“I feel like a fraud.”
Two friends, on the same day, during separate conversations, making the same statement. Two moms struggling with postpartum depression and questioning whether their struggle is real. Whether doing something to get help is valid.
I get this. Had, in fact, just written about it. That post didn’t even end up articulating what I meant when I started writing it. My question to myself and, by posting it, to others, was: Am I making this up?
We all have good days. On those days, we question why it’s so hard at other times. We wonder if perhaps it’s all in our heads. It is, in a way, at least from a biochemical standpoint, but it’s the nature of the depression demons to make you lose sight of things.
When I am okay, I can’t really remember what it’s like to feel not okay.
When I am not okay, I really can’t imagine ever feeling good again.
It’s not like this is something I could put on a calendar and prepare for, like this:
- Monday will be a good day, and you should prepare to go to work and not worry about whether you are going to be forcing down anxiety attacks in the middle of meetings.
- Tuesday will not be a good day. You will not feel able to go to work, but you will have to so pack your happy mask and pretend you are all right.
- By Wednesday, things will be on the upswing again and you’ll feel better, saner, calmer. But in the back of your mind you will know that you are still on this roller coaster and it’s going to be a while after you get off before you really know you’re not on it anymore.
If you’ve been following along, you’ll know that I’m not working right now. I took four weeks of leave, which has turned into longer than that (more on that in another post). When I went into work to talk to my boss about taking leave during what was initially a vacation week, I threw on jeans and a t-shirt and a ball cap and prayed there wouldn’t be very many people in the office. I had stuffed my pockets with Kleenex just in case and would have given anything to teleport in and out of his office so no one else would see me.
If I had gone in today, I would have been showered and dressed and looking mostly normal. If someone would have asked me how I am, I would have said “okay”. That would have been true and they probably wouldn’t have been able to tell that I’m a bit loopy from medication. But on Friday I was also okay – pretty good, actually – and then late that night I got some bad news. That slope is awfully slippery, and Saturday was one of those days where I spent the day crying and wishing I could die.
In the ratio of bad days to good over the past few weeks while I’ve been off work, the bad days are holding a solid lead. But that’s slowly shifting as each and every day I’m learning more about what I need to do to ensure the good days start to outnumber the bad, and so that eventually the bad will be few and far between. But for now, I still have really bad days and I know the process I have to go through to get past those is not an easy or a fast one, so when the good days come I try to feel grateful and not like a fraud.
Given the choice, I would actually be happy for it all to be in my head. One day it will be, but only as a memory.
Post dedicated to my friends T and T, who are not frauds, and to D, who was listening to “Unwell” by Matchbox Twenty with me. He had the same light bulb moment when we heard the chorus (below) and correctly guessed it would turn into a post.
“Hold on
I’m feeling like I’m headed for a
Breakdown
I don’t know whyI’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell
I know, right now you can’t tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you’ll see
A different side of meI’m not crazy, I’m just a little impaired
I know, right now you don’t care
But soon enough you’re gonna think of me
And how I used to be”
(YouTube won’t let me embed this video, but I’ll give you this image as a link. Because Rob Thomas is cute.)
