I woke up and thought for a couple of hours that I didn't feel too bad, I really must be getting better. What an optimist. But now, as I try to do laundry, pack an overnight bag for a stay at my dad's, think about going to the gym, all before going to drive to see my psychiatrist this afternoon- I feel awful again.
Yesterday my therapist asked me how I know how depressed I am, how I judge it, how I know. I told her it was like Schrodinger's Cat. It was like the particle that is a wave that is a particle- and you don't know where it is until you measure it. And for me that measurement is, when I try to do something. If I am doing nothing, I often don't have a sense of how depressed I am, if there are no demands on me. But when I try to function, I am pinning down where that particle is, whether the cat is dead or alive. Poor cat.
When I try to function, to do even the smallest thing- I realize that I am still moving in molasses, not air, and I feel the resistance to any effort I make. And then I feel it in the pit of my stomach, the depression, telling me it never really went away. Perhaps someday they will find a way to de-enevervate those nerves, the ones that grab you in the stomach, and they will be selling that as a cure for depression. Can't be any worse than implanting deep brain stimulators.