A new model

I've been thinking a lot about why I've been so resistant to the idea of taking medication for an illness I know is real and debilitating. Something you hear a lot in mental health conversations when this topic comes up is the comparison between antidepressants and insulin. "If you were diabetic, would you feel guilty for taking your insulin? No, because you would recognize that you need it to live and be healthy. Depression is like that too – it's a physical disease that can be treated with medication and lifestyle choices. Blah blah blah."

Now that I'm also diabetic, I can tell you this is true. I don't use insulin but I do take other medication, and I've never felt guilty about it. There is at least one glaring difference between diabetes and depression, though, and that is the fact that with diabetes, I have a glucometer and other tests that can tell me exactly what my blood sugar is, and has been, and therefore there's no guessing whether the illness is "real" or a figment of my imagination. With depression there's no test, no meter, nothing but my own feelings and experience. It might be an illness, or it might be the result of my evil ways, lack of character, disconnection from god ... Even though I don't really believe that, my religious indoctrination was heavy and deep, and still rears its head pretty regularly in vulnerable moments.

Anyway, I've had kind of an awakening this week in my thinking about depression. I've decided to stop feeling guilty about it and start treating it the same as any other illness. When my blood sugar numbers start going wacky, I know what to do and I do it. And if it doesn't work, I know other things to try, and other people to ask. I don't feel the need to apologize to anyone if I have a week or so of bad numbers; I accept it as something my body is doing that needs to be attended to, and I do the best I can to take care of myself while I ride it out.

Maybe taking care of myself in depression really can be just as simple as that. I know what I need to do, mostly, and even though those things are a lot harder to do than the things I do for my diabetes, they're not impossible. The most disabling part of depression isn't really the physical stuff anyway, though that's pretty hard too; the hardest part is the emotional element of it – feeling guilty for being sick, so guilty I sometimes can't even allow myself to believe that's what's really happening. Which means no treatment, which means needless suffering. No thank you.

I have a friend who has MS, who is sometimes more functional from day to day, and sometimes less. Another friend has Lyme disease – same thing. When there's a flare-up, they deal with it. When things settle back down, they give thanks.

I'm going to try doing the same with depression.