Radio Silence

I have long suspected that I suffer from a mild case of depression.  I haven’t been formally diagnosed, though it’s something I’ve considered, just not something I could afford until recently as I was only employed part-time and had no health insurance.  I probably should go see a therapist, but I have my doubts about it being particularly necessary.

I highly value the mental health profession and for a while wanted to be a part of it.  But I also recognize that my struggle isn’t as great as other people’s.  I might benefit from talk therapy, I don’t need drug therapy and I already know a number of coping techniques, though I’m sure I could learn more.  I guess bottom line is I don’t need someone to tell me I have problems and I don’t think an official diagnosis would change much for me, if I was even diagnosed with depression.

Hell, I might not even have depression because I just don’t seem to suffer the same pain I’ve seen in others.  It’s more like off and on I suffer from very bad bouts of ennui, apathy, and malaise. I’m often sad or lose confidence in myself during these times and I tend to neglect myself more than I usually do (I’m not the most healthy or neat person, I’ll admit), but I’m not incapable of laughter or happiness.  I don’t struggle to get out of bed and I’ve never had suicidal thoughts before.  I don’t like the idea of giving others the wrong idea of what it means to suffer from depression, that it’s something easily worked through for one so it should be easy for someone else.

At the end of the day I’m writing this to explain that I’ve gone through one of my episodic bouts of malaise/apathy/ennui and I apologize for not staying on top of my work when I should have and wanted to.  I’ll be back next week with something better!  Promise.



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