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Road-2-Recovery

The road to recovery has no short cuts; that’s the moral of the story.  My arrival at this invaluable lesson, however, came only after multiple attempts at short cutting the process.  In retrospect, I’m fairly sure that I experienced my first clinical depressive episode in my mid twenties.  At the time, however, I attributed my depressed mood and emotional overflow to a specific situation, not a condition.  It wouldn’t be for another 3-4 years that I would be diagnosed with clinical depression.  When that occured, the presenting symptoms were similar to the ones before, only with greater intensity and no situation to which I could attribute the feelings.

The recommended treatment was simply a strong B-vitamin complex, increased exercise, and some classes on relaxation techniques.  The treatment was so basic that, for the most part, I dismissed it and didn’t bother to follow through.  Besides, I was feeling better just understanding why I was so emotional at times for no apparent reason.

Fast forward a few years later and I’m in a similar situation, but the symptoms and circumstances were more dire.  At that time, I was newly married, working full-time, trying to run a new business, experiencing undiagnosed health issues, and parenting my (then) 15 year old daughter who had come to me via the foster care system. All of which was collectively exhausting and incredibly stressful.  While I attributed my distressed mood to the unanswered questions about my health, my doctors insisted that the depression had to be treated before they could  effectively determine what was causing the physical symptoms.  I begrudgingly submitted to treatment, which consisted of a mild anti-depressant and classes on Anxiety & Depression.

In the Anxiety & Depression classes, I learned about the connection between depression and anxiety, and how one often precipitates the other. Anxiety had been my lifelong companion so I had actually assumed it was normal, at least for me.  The classes helped me to understand that my longtime relationship with anxiety had likely set me up for the depression. Unfortunately, my perception at the time was that I was far too busy to go into full recovery mode.  I, therefore, engaged only sporadically in the recommended self-care.  The recommended lifestyle changes (i.e. slowing down) were altogether dismissed as unnecessary.  I opted to take the medication, do some brief self-care, and within six months, I was back to my normal way of life.

I’m not sure when my normal began to change, but at some point my level of functioning began a steady decline.  For example, although “scattered” is a fair characterization of my normal cleaning routine, during that time, my level of distraction was magnified by at least 10.   In addition, my short term memory was shot, my energy level was extremely low, time seemed to pass at warped speeds, I never felt well rested, I had little to no interest in socializing, and instead I spent every possible moment I could alone in my room.  It seemed to take an extraordinary amount of effort to make any progress on my daily to-do list.  Perhaps the most nerve wrecking symptom was that it had become such a struggle to keep up with my daily prayers.  I was noticeably falling short in all areas of my life and it was having a major effect on my self-concept and self-worth.  Although I had previously been diagnosed and treated for depression, my inability to function efficiently did not seem  at all related.  The presenting symptoms in previous years had been almost entirely related to sadness and my inability to manage my emotions.

My first inclination that I actually had a serious problem came from an article I read one day in a magazine. The writer was telling her story about her life – prior to her diagnoses and treatment of depression.    She described the fog in her head that she had to navigate daily, the ongoing feeling of being drained and distracted, how she never seemed to make progress on her to-do list, and that just getting her kids off to school in the morning required all the energy she could muster.  She wrote about how her days seemed to go by in a flash, only allowing her to complete minimal tasks. In the writer’s very vivid description, I could clearly see the parallels in my own life.  The realization that I was in a full blown depressive episode was both relieving and disheartening.  While I was glad to learn that I had not just turned into a world class slacker, I was also disappointed because I had hoped that, with the last episode, I was done with depression for good.

So about 10 year after my first depressive episode, I was once again seeking treatment.  The treating psychiatrist was very insightful and provided me with some really helpful information about the “different faces of depression”.  He was also incredibly validating and even praised me for my personal insights, commended me for “surviving” without treatment for as long as I had, and congratulated me for seeking treatment without prompting.  He shared with me that, after reviewing my assessment, he was very surprised that I’d even had the motivation to seek treatment.  He told me that he had never treated someone who was in my “condition” that was not an “inpatient”.  Until then, I had not realized just how critical my condition had gotten. The psychiatrist stressed that I needed to be continuously vigilant about monitoring and managing my mental health.    He warned that each subsequent episode of depression would likely be worse than the last, and if I weren’t careful,  he would likely be seeing me again- only as an inpatient.

I left the psychiatrist’s office with a better understanding of 3 things:

1. Recovery is a process, and there are no quick fixes.  Depression generally develops over time, and that it could take at least an equal amount of time to treat.
2. The presenting symptoms of depression may not always be the same, thus could very well catch me off guard if I weren’t careful.
3. Self-care and lifestyle changes were not optional or temporary, rather they needed to be ongoing and permanent, respectively.

I’ve since learned that the journey to recovery is not a linear route, rather it also has its hills and valleys.  I’ve learned that I generally end up in the valleys when I get off track and forget to take care of myself.  More recently I learned that getting off track is a natural occurrence, especially in the absence of regular reminders. The word in Arabic for mankind (insan) comes from a root which means to forget; thus we are forgetful by nature. It, therefore, stands to reason that we might need continuous reminders (as we do for many things) to prioritize our self-care;  .

“And Remind for verily a reminder benefits the believer” (Quran 51:55)

Oh, and before you consider doing what I once did and dismiss the importance of self-care, consider that self-care is essentially being a good steward to that which Allah first entrusted to you (yourself).