DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: How do you date if your depression isn’t fixable?
Advertisement
I’m 49 and when I say I have tried everything in forty years I don’t mean “ha ha I’ve tried everything”, I mean I have literally tried everything…dozens of different anti-depressants, five psychiatrists, CBT (a full IRL course held by one of the top shrinks in the province), exercise, magic mushrooms, and on and on…the only things left to try are either super illegal or scary as hell (electro shock therapy).
I go to 6-10 events a month where meeting people is either a focus or a part of the experience (i.e. pickleball, bar trivia etc..etc..) and while I have made some friends, I haven’t even come close to landing a date let alone ending my 7 years of celibacy. I try very hard to have positive energy but I am not, nor capable of being, the happy go lucky people magnet I’d love to be.
I try to be my authentic self and while I know it’s entirely possible to be unlucky for long stretches of time, I worry that I can’t fix one of the core problems that must surely be part of the problem.
I don’t know what else to try. I am getting to the point where I feel worn down and mostly just want to stay home.
Down Down In Brain Goblin Town
DEAR DOWN DOWN IN BRAIN GOBLIN TOWN: Depression is a monster. And worse, it’s a monster that doesn’t even necessarily look the way you expect. For some, it’s being down in the dumps – the classic “feeling sad, lonely and blue, no matter what”. For others it’s simply feeling worthless or that everything is pointless and hell, sometimes it’s not feeling anything at all; just an ever-present gray numbness that saps the energy, life and vitality out of everything. In some ways, that can be the worst – imagine how it would feel if everything, including your formerly favorite foods, had no taste or smell, only texture. How quickly would that start to feel like an inescapable hell?
I’m truly sorry that your depression is so resistant to treatment. I will say that electroconvulsive therapy (the “electro-shock” you mention) only sounds scary. I know it conjures up images of One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest or horror scenes set in haunted asylums, but in practice it’s nothing of the sort. It’s a very gentle procedure that’s done under a muscle relaxant and general anesthesia. You don’t arc or flop around, the lights don’t flicker and you’re not coming out of it drooling and insensate. In fact, the only physical indication is a slight tensing of the fingers and toes. It has a very strong track record of actually helping with symptoms of treatment-resistant depression and working very quickly, so it may be worth talking with your doctors about the option. I’d say find out more, if only so that you don’t have the terrifying images of what the therapy actually looks like.
But I’m not here to tell you how to cure your depression, I’m here to tell you how to try to live with it. I’m stressing live with it, because that’s the critical part. I think you’re trying to live like you don’t experience it and that’s a part of the problem. Sometimes the only thing to do is to learn to work with and adapt around things, rather than trying to force it away, and that only serves to make things harder. And honestly, there are only two things that I would tell you.
The first is that having depression doesn’t mean that you can’t be loved or don’t deserve to be, nor do you need to not have depression in order to find love. Things can be difficult – it’s hard to feel good about a relationship when nothing feels good – but that’s a challenge, not an impossibility. If you have friends and you’re capable of maintaining those friendships, then you’re capable of finding love. It means finding the right people, which will be a challenge, and it means working within your limits, which can be maddening. But a challenge is different than “impossible”.
At the risk of making a cheesy, Tumblr-esque comparison, I’d suggest that maybe you should consider the case of Eeyore. Yes, Eeyore from Winnie The Pooh. And yes, I’ll be the first to say that I’ve mentioned that Eeyore isn’t exactly considered a sex-symbol. But this isn’t about being a sex-symbol. This is about looking at Eeyore and his friends. Because Eeyore, for all that he’s gloomy and always down… he’s still making an effort. He’s there with his friends, taking part as best as he can. He may not be the most enthusiastic, he may not be the most energetic or taking the lead in all the fun and games, he’s still there. He’s still showing up. He’s still participating both to the best of his ability, but also to the best of his capacity.
Those three things are important. Showing up, even when you’re dragging ass and not necessarily feeling it, helps you avoid one of the more pernicious parts of depression: the isolation. It’s very easy to slide into a sort of self-imposed solitary confinement when the depression is especially dire, and once you start, it gets harder and harder to get back out again. Hiding yourself away from the world also hides you away from the goodthings in life, things that boost you and carry you a little further, even if you’re not necessarily feeling it at the time. When you’re isolating yourself, the loneliness and the solitude serve to enhance those feelings (or the lack thereof), let them settle and become the status quo. The longer you stay isolated and lonely, the stronger the depression gets, and the harder it becomes to motivate yourself to push through it.
Trust me: I have been there and done that and I can tell you that the worst times with my depression were always because I had isolated myself from everyone.
But participating is also important because it reminds you that you’re alive. It reminds you that you have choices and options and agency; these are the things that keep you in contact with your friends and loved ones – the people who love you, care about you and have your back. These are some of the people who give you the strength and the desire to push through that fog, to go stay connected with others, even when it feels pointless or like there’s no reason for it. It may not change your mood or lift the numbness that surrounds you, but it does remind you that life is for living, even when it doesn’t feel like it.
And participating to the best of your capacity reminds you that you don’t have to exhaust yourself or break yourself into pieces to be considered part of the group or to maintain your friendships. Your energy levels are low to begin with and depleting them past a certain point can make the depression feel worse. Learning how to manage your energy – when to expend it, when to husband it, how to recover it and what kinds of recovery you’ll need – are an important part of keeping yourself going and not letting everything fall apart.
But the other important thing about Eeyore are his friends. Specifically: they’re not trying to fix him and they’re not demanding that he put on a happy face when he can’t feel happy because it brings them down. They’re just glad he’s there and they want him to know they’re glad. They want him to know that he’s a part of the group and that his showing up means a lot to them.
This is what you want in friends and in potential lovers; you want people who understand that this isn’t something that they need to “cure” or “fix” for you, nor do you want people who think that your depression is something that brings them down. You want folks who are willing to accept you, who will meet you where you are and understand that just because you may not have the full capacity that they do, that doesn’t make you lesser or worth less. It just means that you don’t have the spoons that they do.
The second thing I will tell you is very simple but also very difficult: don’t give up. I don’t just mean on life – but no, seriously, don’t – I mean on not giving up on living. On trying. On continuing to put one foot in front of another, dragging yourself out and finding reasons to go out, to participate in your life beyond the bare minimum and to continue doing your best to build and maintain those relationships.
It’s easy to say and in concept it’s simple to do. But the execution of it is hard, especially when it feels pointless. But it’s that feeling of pointlessness that makes it all the more important. Part of the problem with depression is that depression turns you into a weird sort of shark; there’s nothing you want more than to stop moving, to lay down and be still, but when you stop moving you quit living. The longer you stop, the harder it becomes to start again. And once that sets in… well, that’s when the depression starts to be at its worst and becomes ever harder to break out of.
Now this doesn’t mean going balls to the wall, beating down life’s doors like you’re demanding the money it owes you. Sometimes it means just gritting your teeth and deciding that you’ve got a job to do and you’re going to do it because you’re a goddamn professional. And then you let that sheer determination – or spite, for that matter – power you through until you reach the end of that day and drop back into your bed. And then, the next day, you resolve to yourself that you just need to get through this day. You take it one day at a time, literally, and each day, you learn a little more about what you’ll need to do to get through. You learn a little more about where to apply your limited spoons, how to manage your emotional energy and who to spend it with.
And as you do so, you get those little reminders that depression is a liar and it lies to you in your own voice. You get the physical evidence that your friends love and care for you, that people value you and that you make the world a better place for all of them. You get those little pebbles that you can throw back at the darkness when you feel it closing in, those tiny little specks of light that don’t feel like very much… but in the dark, even a tiny point of light can make a world of difference.
Refusing to give up means doesn’t mean not letting the depression “win” because it’s not about winning. It’s simply about continuing. It’s about remembering and building and loving, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. It’s about pushing the gloom back just a little bit and even that little bit can be enough for that day.
Will it be hard? F—k yes it’ll be hard. You don’t need me to tell you that, you’re living it. There’re going to be more folks who aren’t right for you and who aren’t going to respect that you have depression or what depression means. It’s hard to motivate yourself to pursue relationships when it feels like there’s no point and when you feel like your condition will get in the way.
But the fact that it’s hard doesn’t mean that it’s not worth it. Even at those times when “worth it” is a very small feeling at the bottom of a very deep well. It may be hard to see or feel, but knowing it’s there can make a world of difference, even when things are bad. Having those moments, however small, however sporadic, however little of an impact that it feels like they make means that you got through this day, and the next day will be a little easier. You’ll have the resources and reserves to push through another day – even when you’re doing so through gritted teeth and bloody-minded determination.
And keep going long enough and you might keep going long enough to find a new treatment that helps lift that fog.
Things are hard now, but they won’t be forever. Even when it feels that way. You’ll be ok. I promise.
All will be well.
Bottom of Form
Please send your questions to Dr. NerdLove at his website (www.doctornerdlove.com/contact); or to his email, doc@doctornerdlove.com