One of the worst aspects of remaining outwardly high-functioning while living with chronic depression is that you keep hoping that it will just go away even though you know it never will. You’ve done the research; you know that maintenance is the best you can hope for, but there’s always this lingering “what if” in the back of your mind. What if this next accomplishment makes me happy? What if this next thing makes everything right? You know in the active part of your brain that this will never be true, but you hope. Then, slowly but surely, you put all your effort and focus on that goal, subconsciously placing any and all future success on it... only to be disappointed yet again when reality comes crashing back down. Getting a Bachelor’s degree didn’t cure my depression. Getting a Master’s degree didn’t cure my depression. Getting my Ph.D. in a few weeks will not cure my depression. It is never going away, and I know I’m setting myself up for horrific malaise yet I’m already on the next thing -- get a job, get married, have a child. My brain lies to me so much; it wants me to believe that one of those things has to make a difference, has to make me happy. I know what it’s like to receive an honor or an accolade and have everyone around me say, “Aren’t you happy? You must be so thrilled!” I force a smile and always say that I am when I am in agony, battling the parts of myself that tells me to give up and end it all. I know that if I am ever able to become pregnant that I will look into the eyes of my firstborn and feel nothing but the crushing weight of depression, knowing that I will never be good enough, can never give enough to make a difference to anyone. Every day makes me feel more and more worthless, and I don’t know what to do.
I haven’t been to a counselor or therapist in months since the last counseling services place forged my signature on a document and cancelled my state mental healthcare. I reported them to a regulatory board due to some improprieties going on with how my medications were being handled, and their revenge was to make sure I lost access to mental health services, likely hoping that I’d off myself. A social worker was fired over the forgery, but, because my state is terrible, I still haven’t gotten my mental healthcare back and probably won’t. I need a better job with insurance, just like so many others I know.
