January, again

If you’ve creeped my blog long enough (and some of you have ;)), you’ll know that January is my humpday of the year. Someone told me that if you get through January, you’ll get through anything, and in some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy this has turned out to be true. It’s the end of January. That means February is coming up, and with it, Valentine’s Day. Oh goodie.

This January has been a little more serious than years past. Instead of just moping over a boy, I have been moping catastrophically about a boy who no boys in the past have ever compared to, and no boys in the future who probably ever will (hence, catastrophizing). But it being my first year living alone, being able to spend my moping time however I want, I have been spending a lot of time at home doing a whole lot of nothing. Spending nearly ever weekend on the couch watching Gilmore Girls from morning to night. Not cleaning up my place. Not exercising. Not getting to the ever growing residency to-do list. Completely ignoring all my obligations except the urgent pressing ones, and just scraping by. Yeah, I make it to work and do a decent job. Yeah, most weekdays I can even make it to the gym. No, I haven’t had any changes in appetite or concentration. I probably don’t fit diagnostic criteria for depression. But I feel sad, amotivated, functioning at a bare minimum, and telling myself that “this too shall pass” has not been a reassuring strategy when it’s going on for weeks and weeks. I’m not myself, that’s the bottom line. I’m tired of functioning at “just get through the day” level and want to get back to making 5-year-plans, starting new hobbies, reading, self-improvement, and hope. I want to hope again.

This is all maybe a little melodramatic and sounds worse than it is, and given the chaos around the world right now I feel bad even describing my qualms that are relatively trivial. I am, however, extremely grateful at getting this glimpse into what depression might look like. It’s dark and sad, only because you know yourself to be capable of so much more, but you just can’t. You just can’t get off the couch, or out of bed, or manage to do anymore beyond what’s absolutely required. It’s an ugly and self-hating place. I’m grateful to have had this little stint to see what my patients go through, but I’m ready for it to be over anytime now, please.


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