I’m just now starting to realize what I’m up against in terms of the perimenopausal hormone fluctuations I’ve been dealing with for the past couple years- I’m 46. It took the things that I have struggled with most of my life (insomnia, depression and hair loss) and made those issues multiply in severity. It also brought the added bonus of killing my libido and hot flashes.
The melancholy is next level, and unbeknownst to me, one tricky bastard! Allow me to explain.
Typically, I’m the kind of person who can see the silver lining in any situation, no matter how fucked up or tragic. It’s my (oftentimes annoying) nature, and having a never ending supply of perspective has gotten me through a lot of tough times.
Twenty four hours ago I was in the thick of it. My world went black: no silver lining, no light at the end of the tunnel, no hope. I wasn’t just sad- I didn’t see the point in living. There was no point in anything other than admitting defeat. Of course my life has no purpose; how could I have bought into the notion that everything happens for a reason and I just need to surrender to what the hard times are trying to teach me? No, the only thing that’s true is that hope and happiness and possibilities are a lie…
Here’s the thing, in these moments I don’t think to myself that something must be wrong to feel so out of character. I don’t have the ability to rationalize the situation. Furthermore, I don’t reach out for help- I don’t even realize it’s happening! I simply accept that everything sucks and this is how it is now; this is my new normal, so I’d better get used to it. It’s like being brainwashed by my own body chemistry!
Again, I convince myself that the old, positive version of myself was not only delusional, but she no longer exists. I can work out, journal, meditate, etc. (things that would normally help tremendously) but it’s no match for someone in this hopeless state. The increased bouts of insomnia have proven to be a powerful and trusty sidekick to the depression, as it further diminishes any defenses I might have against what I can only describe as evil.
I then struggle with the shame of being too weak to overcome the hopelessness. “Maybe I’m just not meant for this world,” I’ll say to myself. I wish I could say these words are merely for dramatic effect, but in reality, they are my truth, and I’m scared.
What I’m writing now is taking place almost two weeks later. I wrote the above article to try and explain the complexities of my particular struggle with depression. The only way to come close to describing it was to write it while I felt it, or at least while I was reeling from the aftermath. My next article will be me delving into what happened next, because you see, hope is never a lie- no matter what B.S. our minds might feed us at times.