Anxiety, depression, dissociative identity disorder,
Why am I talking about this?
After a 2 year reprieve, I am back to being depressed.1
And the question that pisses me off the most is, “why are you depressed?” Because if there’s a cause, there must be a cure! Find the magical traumatic event and my brain will start pumping chemicals correctly!
… Wait.… I don’t think it works that way.
And, perhaps, this misconception arose from the mental illness categorization. Physical illnesses almost always have a cause associated with them: typically a bacteria or virus. Physical illnesses have causes. Mental illnesses? The medical cause is attributed almost exclusively to chemical imbalances.
B-B-But chemical imbalances are physical! Yes, yes they are.
I don’t view my two years without a significant depressive episode as being “cured.” Nor is my current state a “regression” or “new case.” I am a person with depression. There isn’t a cure. I have good days and bad days with my level of depression (and anxiety, for that matter).
Please don’t ask me for a cause. The cause is I’m effectively broken. Although, I prefer the existentialist answer of “because I am.”
For those that recognize that depression is a chemical imbalance, they demand that I take pills. As if I am too depressed to realize I want or “need” to take medication. As if I hadn’t already considered it.
As if I don’t have autonomy.
1To be fair, it came back this summer and I just didn’t want to admit to myself that was the case. It has become increasingly severe, which is part of the reason why I haven’t blogged in a while. I didn’t feel like it. Presently, I’m forcing myself to do things that I used to enjoy.
