You know one of the funny things about combining depression with PTSD is that you can manage to appear to have a lot of energy even when you don’t. My body holds down the accelerator while my mind puts on the handbrake. Oh, the car still runs, sure but it’s not good. You can’t keep going forever like that. It’s called ’stress’ but it’s not ordinary, run of the mill stress. It’s not the low-cost generic kind, and everyday things go on running this way the price goes up a little.
If it were just money we’re talking about here maybe I could tell myself it’s not such a big deal. But it isn’t just money. I pay for it in time and emotion and physical health. The list of ailments stress is thought to be a culprit in is virtually endless, and the more stress you have the more likely it is you’ll be able to spot a few things you recognise on that list.
So take your foot off the damn pedal, you say just as my neat little analogy packs it in and goes home too. Yes, the problem is I’m not actually a car. You can’t calculate stress like that, “wear and tear” cannot be accounted for in miles run or liters of engine lubricant consumed.
The issue is running through my veins right now – it’s in every tiny bit of extra adrenaline I’m exposed to and every hormone level that remains just that little bit off. Somewhere I’m exposed but nobody can tell me precisely where. Somewhere in my mind, too, there are the wrong kinds of chemicals – not enough here, too many there. And the tools we have to fix it are, to quote someone smarter than me, “like doing neurosurgery with an axe.”
A pill is not enough, sometimes a handful of them isn’t enough. A lot of things could be wrong. My body meets my mind walking down a busy street and they hold hands well enough but as with any couple they fight. My body and mind fight more than most, and that’s what makes these illnesses dynamic issues. It’s not just in your head, it’s not just changing one or the other. It’s about compromise, and writing the rules for a system that’s more than the sum of either part. It’s balancing you with me, and coming up with something that satisfies us both but doesn’t threaten that which we know of ourselves.
I still want to be myself once you fix the problem, see. So go ahead, tune my gears, shrink my head but don’t be surprised if I still don’t purr like a happy engine at the end of it all. It just doesn’t work that way. You still won’t be able to pull my foot off the pedal or loosen the brake but maybe you can curb the damage done. And that’s not such a bad start.
A former roommate of mine suffered from PTSD and depression… (I say “suffered from” because she unfortunately let these two conditions define her as a person, at least in the time I knew her.) It can really fuck you up, really let you lose touch with your identity, with your reality, with your potential. I don’t envy anyone who has to fight that fight. But I will always, always, always empathize.
As someone who suffers bipolar and PTSD I can relate to this post. If only it were as easy as booking yourself in for an overhaul and tune-up then driving off feeling like you’ve just rolled off the production line. The two disorders, depression and PTSD, feed off each other.
I wish you all the best and hope things look up for you really soon.
Best Wishes,
*fellow Aussie*
Zathyn
Yep, it surely can, El Sid. Bad. Any illness can, of course but the one-two combo punch of this stuff can really get in-ter-est-ing. In that go bang your head against a wall special way
Cool that you empathize, though. It is a good quality to have, regardless but even better when it’s backed up by real life experience.
Glad you could relate, Zathyn though I wish nobody ever had to. It’s not exactly the sort of fun you want to share but I’m still glad people do. It’d suck way more to be alone.
Thanks for the good wishes – right back at ya! =)
The key is to keep honing your awareness, for your sake and for those who interact with you.
It drives me crazy…wait I’m already there. With the depression I’m down, but the PTSD makes me so alert and on edge that sometimes you can’t tell I’m down. And, both prevent me from sleeping when it is normal. It feels like you describe, but I say it feels like going race car speed at a dead stop. It is like nothing ever stops and parts of me don’t move. But, yet I feel jerked around. It is overwhelming.
Sounds like you need your 200000 mile service and an oil change hun
by that of course I mean a holiday, a real holiday where you’re as good as banned from doing anything at all!
Come visit meee
@tobeme – OK. Yeah, that sounds good.
@CC – Sorry you relate so well, CC. It is overwhelming, and it sucks!
LOL Shiv.