What do you do when little carries a weight of importance? I have spent my forty-four years swinging between depression and mania, being gnawed upon by anxiety, and little clue what these things are. I have been focused on my mental health for the last decade, but it was only five years ago when I truly began to understand what was happening. I now regularly see a psychiatrist and take several medications that are mostly effective at containing the worst of it all. But, it isn’t perfect. I shudder to think what my latest bout of depression would have been like otherwise. It did underscore that I am disconnected from emotional attachments.
There are things that should be concerning in life, but for some time now concern and care for such have become elusive. My diabetes has been out of control, but knowing this and feeling any manner of concern are rather isolated. I simply do not care. I know that it is serious, but remain detached from something such as this. Each day is another series of going through the motions. There are few emotions left to me now and I am simply stumbling through life.
Sometimes I am curious about going off the meds so that I can feel things again, but I also know that going a few days without even one of them can be disastrous. So, I continue to take them and be miserable, but mostly functional. Even writing this essay is troublesome. I love to write and have recently done more consistent writing than ever before, but every few weeks I come to a halt. There is no focus; concentration is frustratingly elusive. Even conveying what is happening right now is murky.
This is just another phase of my mental journey to adjust to and get past. The most important actions I can take is to observe myself and ask the right questions to reach solutions. Learning what those questions are is difficult, as is having to constantly adapt to changes in my mental health. It’s another part of the journey, but there are serious repercussions to not learning from the experience.