I’m sorry to have not answered for so long, I had some busy weeks.
Depression: I’d suffered many months from a depression bad enough that I was not able to work the hours of a part-time job, let alone achieve any acceptable performance. I was using alcohol as replacement for other diluted variants of H2O. This was also not the first time of being depressed, and needless to say, such things can fuck up your life, and are generally not very desirable.
I recovered as well as I think possible: I feel well. I can work. I enjoy, and can concentrate on stuff that piques my interest. I feel secure enough to make plans spanning more than two days, and expect to be somewhere between OK and very good for the forseeable future. For most measures, I am now better functioning, healthier (physically and emotionally) than the average person.
The sword of Damokles being that the next episode might break through my defenses so fast that I break down. Again. If I remember correctly, there is a four in five chance there will be one. I do not worry about that, though.
Therapy: The most useful part of my therapy was the judicious choice of some small things to work on, and the frequent feedback from an outsider. Also, never underestimate by how much a therapist approaches problems differently than a damaged brain.
On my own I would either not do anything, and hate myself for it, or try something, and hate myself for failing (again), or do something, and hate myself for spending energy on such a worthless, embarassingly tiny task. It was primarily option one.
It took some months, but through repeated experience I came to accept slight progress as progress nevertheless, and many of the tasks I was given to do integrate very nicely into everday activities now. I learned about saying “Well done!” to myself. I also learned about building habits, not as in ‘scientist’, but but applied to my own life. I also made it through some setbacks, faster and better than in the past years, so there is the chance that I actually learned something useful.
Last but not least, after a severe and sudden setback about two months or so, my therapist set me up with a psychiatrist to get some nice pills. A few days later I slept better than for the last ten years. Sleep is great. Everybody should get some.
I’m sorry to have not answered for so long, I had some busy weeks.
Depression: I’d suffered many months from a depression bad enough that I was not able to work the hours of a part-time job, let alone achieve any acceptable performance. I was using alcohol as replacement for other diluted variants of H2O. This was also not the first time of being depressed, and needless to say, such things can fuck up your life, and are generally not very desirable.
I recovered as well as I think possible: I feel well. I can work. I enjoy, and can concentrate on stuff that piques my interest. I feel secure enough to make plans spanning more than two days, and expect to be somewhere between OK and very good for the forseeable future. For most measures, I am now better functioning, healthier (physically and emotionally) than the average person.
The sword of Damokles being that the next episode might break through my defenses so fast that I break down. Again. If I remember correctly, there is a four in five chance there will be one. I do not worry about that, though.
Therapy: The most useful part of my therapy was the judicious choice of some small things to work on, and the frequent feedback from an outsider. Also, never underestimate by how much a therapist approaches problems differently than a damaged brain.
On my own I would either not do anything, and hate myself for it, or try something, and hate myself for failing (again), or do something, and hate myself for spending energy on such a worthless, embarassingly tiny task. It was primarily option one.
It took some months, but through repeated experience I came to accept slight progress as progress nevertheless, and many of the tasks I was given to do integrate very nicely into everday activities now. I learned about saying “Well done!” to myself. I also learned about building habits, not as in ‘scientist’, but but applied to my own life. I also made it through some setbacks, faster and better than in the past years, so there is the chance that I actually learned something useful.
Last but not least, after a severe and sudden setback about two months or so, my therapist set me up with a psychiatrist to get some nice pills. A few days later I slept better than for the last ten years. Sleep is great. Everybody should get some.