I am clinically depressed and have been for quite some time now. I don't see a light at the end of the tunnel and every thought of the future brings me dread. I don't know how to fix this. I'm seeing a therapist, a psychiatrist, am taking antidepressants, and am in a dialectical behavioral therapy group, but nothing seems to be helping.
Every memory that I have seems to contribute to my depression. Even good memories. When I think of a memory that was good, I feel like I'll never have good experiences like that again and therefore it brings me down. I'm fighting an intense battle in my mind, and most times I feel like I'm on the losing end of it. I get very small glimpses of relief from time to time, but they are so fleeting I can't hang onto them.
I have experienced periods of severe depression many times throughout my life, but nothing as sustained and seemingly deep as this. My predominate feeling is that of wanting to die. I'm not suicidal, I just don't want to be alive. I'm just going through the motions of being here.
My therapist continues to remind me that I must have some hope for the future, otherwise I wouldn't be doing anything to better my life. I don't feel as though I am doing anything to better my life, but he reminds me that I am going to my therapy appointments, probation appointments, doctor appointments, GED classes, and drug test appointments. He says that if I truly had no hope, I wouldn't bother meeting these obligations. I'm not entirey sure I agree, but I can sort of see his point.
My preference would be to never get out of bed. Bed is the only place that I find any comfort, though I often wake up with intense disappointment from my dreams. In my dreams I seem to be living life. In my dreams I didn't have a severe manic episode and destroy my life. In my dreams, I have my home, my friends, and a feeling of being okay. When I wake up and realize it was all a dream, I feel even worse than before.
I used to be a fairly optimistic person, though I've always had negative undertones. I used to believe that I would be able to handle anything that life could throw at me. I don't believe this any longer. I broke, and when I broke, I lost the ability to piece myself back together. My resilience has been shaken to its core.
I'm not writing for sympathies. I'm just writing to get these feelings out of me. Perhaps one day I'll be able to see the glass half full again. Perhaps one day I'll be able to cope without therapy and drugs. For now I'm just trying to survive each day.