Self-Induced Paralysis

I've felt off lately. Not sad. Just off. I've had more off days than normal days in the recent weeks. I experienced my first panic attack in over a year, have had to work through some heavy days that I didn't expect, and haven't gotten outside as much as I would like. The me from two years ago (maybe even more recently) would have feared that my medication wasn't working as it should—that I might have to go through the process of finding a new antidepressant to try. However, it's times like these where I know I have progressed in my mental health journey, because I recognize that fear not to be true.

In reality, my life has turned upside down and sideways in recent months. I moved states, lived away from my family for the first time ever, moved states again, and have had to adapt to some tiring schedules in my household. And even though the changes have been mostly positive and exciting, they are still changes. I still have to learn new habits, live in new environments, and accept that even the life I've anticipated for years isn't going to play out exactly how I wanted it. And that's okay because that's just life. However, the stress of these constant changes has left me facing a certain melancholy. My brain's response to drastic change is to stop trying: since everything is shifting anyway, might as well stop functioning because it's going to keep changing. And for a little bit, in the process of moving states, this was true. I knew I would be moving twice, so I didn't exactly settle during the first move. But now the second move is over, and I'm living in the house that's supposed to be mine, but this unsettled feeling hasn't gone away. If anything, it's sunken deep into my bones. Yes I might have progressed in my mental health journey, but I still face the same troubles that I did three years ago. The only difference is I now have the ability to acknowledge and label them. Which actually helps more than it seems, yet not enough to cure this looming depression that continues to get in the way of my life and my work.

So what happens now? Just like any other onset depressive episode, I have to keep reminding myself that it is okay to have off days. In fact, it's okay to take days off and let my body and mind rest. That being said, I also have to limit the rest I give myself. Since my mind is wasting so much energy overthinking and stressing, I'm left in physical exhaust and will gladly sleep the days away. I'll allow myself to not only take a break from the stress, but also from necessary chores, work, and responsibilities that also effect other people. I face a fine line between giving myself a break and straight up quitting. Knowing this only adds another layer of stress (I sense a theme here...)

As I said, acknowledging the way my anxiety and depression work is the best tool I have in managing it. In times like these, I allow myself to rest by shifting my focuses. Writing is one of the biggest stressors in my life, and the fact that I haven't made any noteworthy leaps in my next novel stirs a feeling of inadequacy inside me, and often causes myself to ask if my efforts are even worth trying. Not exactly productive. Rather than forcing it, and ultimately damaging my overall work, I work on my novel a little less and use that free time to try something new. Whether it be baking a new recipe, trying my hand at watercolor paints, or reading a new book; I fill the time with activities rather than doing nothing or even sleeping. This way I trick my brain into thinking I'm still being productive, even if I haven't progressed as far in my writing that day. If I feel unproductive, I lose more motivation to be productive. Silly, but simple. Sometimes you need to fool your brain into doing what you want.

If you've read this far, you might be wondering why I bother sharing any of this. First of all, this blog is a form of journaling for me. And another "productive" task to trick my brain with. Second, on the slight chance someone does read this and make it to the end, maybe it will offer a new means of coping with their own depression-induced paralysis. I also need to remind myself that facing the same challenges I faced many year ago doesn't mean I'm in the same place I was back then. My mental health isn't a quest to permanently cure my condition. It's a journey to learn what sets it off, and find helpful ways to manage it.