It stops you from contacting you psychiatrist. Pride does. Because, even though you’ve been some shade of depressed since mid-December, and it’s getting worse, you don’t want to be dramatic with your lower case “d” depression, that is scaring the shit out of you. And you want to handle it, of course. You and your big girl nine and a half months out of the hospital. You can handle little d depression.
Reality check: in the last four years, how many times have you handled little d or big D depression well, on your own? 0/100
It has always required a medication adjustment, an increase in therapy, a trip to TeleCare, or a stay at Good Sam. Because little d depression becomes big D Depression which becomes immobilizing and debilitating and horrifically terrifying.
But. But says the little voice inside, this is a long-term dysthymia. Dysthymia isn’t dangerous; agitated major depressive disorder status depression is dangerous. And you’ve managed these feelings for almost four months. Maybe you’re getting stronger? Building up a resistance to depression?
Horseshit, says reality, you’re playing with fire.
But, probes the little voice, don’t you think this depression only feels as bad as it does because of your anxiety? You exacerbate your own symptoms by worrying.
True. I don’t know what to do, says reality.