Pills effect: several months after the end
I haven’t written anything about my “depressed” state (I still prefer to enclose that word with quotes) in weeks or even months.
Writing things down may help in formalizing your thoughts, this is my opinion at least. But I also found that spending too much time in the process was giving the disease too much weight in your life and to risk letting the disease define you.
This break in writing was a part of “letting things go”.
“Letting things go” are the words my psychologist chose to describe existential questions, interrogations that may become a burden when you try to find answers too quickly, always repeating the same questions over and over again without finding an answer. Sometimes you have to give yourself time. Answers will come eventually. Not complete maybe, but at least fragments.
So I stopped the medication several months ago. The pills effect was to shut me down from my emotions almost completely. It came to a point where it was disturbing, for people around me, but also for myself. I thought that by stopping them my emotions would flow back, rushing.
They did not.
The process was slow and almost unperceivable. Today I am not even sure that all my emotionality has been completely restored. Less than one year in the past I used to run on emotions, now I feel quieter. Maybe that what I really am deep inside ? No, I don’t believe it…
Today I am still lost. I try to define myself by my past (what I remember feeling and how I feel about things I remember) but also by what I want for myself, what I want to experiment.
The question of my past has always been a problem for me. I will not cover the subject here. What I find the most disturbing in the end is the question of my expectations, desires and wishes. I cannot even answer that !
After several months reflecting on the subject, the more I got are some small fragments. Nothing more. And that scares me. Am I empty ?
This leads me to the conclusion of this post. What I think made me fall into “depression” is that at some point in my life I lost contact with that silly, goofy, maybe funny guy lost between childhood and adulthood: me. This state lasted too long. I let him drown, merge into something to become someone who did not suit him. Today I still have trouble reestablishing the contact with Me. We don’t communicate very well. We both work together on this.