It hasn't all gone to hell... yet.

Have you ever had an illness that dragged on well past the acute symptoms?

Dean took this when I was sick and still trying to work. The cats flung themselves upon me to get me to rest.

“I should be back to normal by now. Why am I still so tired?” you think. You may even try to push yourself to get back to your workouts, berate yourself when you’re still underperforming, look in dismay at the very normal to-do list that just continues to morph out of your control and wonder what’s wrong with you.

Then, days later, when you are fully healed, you realize you have energy again, and that you should have been nicer to yourself. And then the next time you’re sick hopefully you remember.

Of course, sometimes you have to push through regardless of how you feel. Bills need to be paid, dinner has to be made, and some committments must be kept. Sometimes you have to put one foot in front of the other.

I feel as if this also applies to mental stress, especially when sitting in it for a long period of time.

You’re waiting for an answer, you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, or… maybe for reassurance that it won’t drop and all is well, and it’s draining. But because nothing is physically wrong, you feel like you should still be able to perform at your best. I’ve heard neurodivergent people discuss this when talking about their struggles to just function in society before their diagnosis or before they got the correct medication, etc. It’s difficult because they look fine, and physically they may feel fine, but they’re constantly exhausted.

I’ve been depressed twice in my life, and I remember struggling to do basic things. I had to put every tiny task on a calendar and force myself through it, otherwise it might slip my mind or I might just stare into space. The first time I never went to a doctor because—and this was a long time ago—people told me I “didn’t want that on my record” and that it might affect me getting jobs or might affect what my medical insurance would cover in the future. A friend of mine who had been through it armchair diagnosed me with situational depression, and said that they would put me on medication that would take a month or so to kick in, and then take a month or so to wean off, and by the time all was said and done I would probably be “over it” anyway.

Obviously, I did make it through that patch, but I can’t help but wonder what it would have been like if I hadn’t been afraid to get help. Would I have continued to lose weight because I honestly forgot to eat because I was never hungry? Would I have found a helpful therapist to provide me with coping skills that I could have used in the next rough patch? Impossible to know.

During the next rough patch, I did try to find a therapist. Jumping through the hoops my insurance set out for me and finding someone who was taking new patients had me in tears more than once. I went to one therapist who was completely disorganized, not very good, and ultimately told me she couldn’t bill my insurance after I had paid her in cash for the first session. I went to another therapist who was more affordable, but she never really gave me anything to work on or even commented much. I once even asked her out of desperation, “what do you think of all this?” and got a rather blase response of, “I think you’re a motivated person who makes things happen.” When I got the breakdown from my insurance, it looked like I had been seeing her once a week instead of twice a month. When I showed it to her, she explained that she did her paperwork on the other day and it was just the system. I’m honestly not sure I believe that. By this time, I wasn’t depressed anymore and had figured out that I was experiencing severe SAD and solved it with extra vitamin D in the winter and a sun lamp. (And moving away from Chicago.) I let that therapist go.

I tried therapy one more time and it was another bad experience. I’ve had friends who extole the virtues and point out that there are things a therapist could potentially be helping me with. Especially when I’m in spots like I am now, where I’ve been in a state of high anxiety, due to forces outside of my control, that will still have a huge effect on my life, for months on end. But the expense and mental load of even looking into therapy when it has never benefitted me before has kept me from ever pursuing it seriously.

That and just being in this space is exhausting. Getting normal thing done takes more focus than normal. All I want to do is hide in books and go to bed. And I do get mad at myself when my list isn’t crossed off. When I’m not moving forward and taking more action.

But I’m basically fine. And it will be fine. I’ll just keep putting one foot in front of the other and even this shall pass away.