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How chronic illness can cause depression


I do not know which is worse – being depressed, or being on the verge of depression. I decided to write this post, right this moment, because it will capture best, what I am about to talk about; What is depression to me?

It is delicate. So, so delicate, because even now as I am about to say this, I do not want to say it; the exact words: “I live with chronic disease” (yes, I cringed again!) that comes with everyday excruciating and widespread pain in my bones and muscles and joints and skin and flesh and hair(!!!), migraines that make me want to die every time, IBS, RLS, TMJ, sleep disorder, increased sensitivity to temperature, light, sound, touch, etc, and the one I HATE THE MOST – occasional cognitive challenges/dysfunction, among others. I have very good days when pain is down to “bearable”, my brain is not messing with me, and the range of symptoms are all mellowed, and then there are the days when I can manage to function but to the ones I “complain” to, they know I am not having it easy, and then there are days I am in bed, barely able to move, in blinding pain, and wishing I’d either slip into a coma, or die.

Depression, to me, is not wanting to say all that I just said because I do not want my loved ones hurting from worry and helplessness. I do not want it to seem as if I want people to see me as this super girl dealing with loads of shit and so win some kind of admiration. I do not want it to seem like “are you the only one going through things?!” I do not want to seem ungrateful. I do not want to complain about the same thing every single day. And yet I AM dealing with all of this daily. 

Depression is walking that line, keeping that balance – either stomach your troubles because everyone has some hard knocks to deal with or maybe cry in the streets so all know that, the walking is killing you. It is wanting to be comforted but not pitied, understood but not exploited… 

Depression is wondering why that one particular friend won’t ask you how you’re dealing, and then wondering again why you’d even want him/her to, after all they do see you and you wear smiles and respond “I’m good” to their “How are you’s”. 

It is dealing with the thoughts that creep on you, telling you “they don’t really care about you, don’t you see?” yet you know that’s not true…point is, you don’t even want them caring so much. 

Depression is wondering if money spent on your medicals is too much for your caregivers, if they think you are just being lazy sometimes, if you are draining them emotionally. “Are they tired of me?” “Do I wear him out?” But these are the people closest to you…they are family, and the love of your life…they are not going anywhere, and you hate that this has to be dealt with on the regular.

It is being unable to go out much to the places you’d have loved to be at. Like now, as I type this – this is NOT where I’d rather be, but I get exhausted and risk a flare up when I do not pace myself and be careful about how much I work or overwork myself. I remember sometime in March when I was at an event to read from an anthology I’d been published in. All through the program, I was in so much pain, the seat was uncomfortable, I was nauseous and irritable, and I just really wish I was in bed. At the end of it when I looked at the time and thought of having to get myself home, I nearly burst out crying. That was the first time in a whole year and some months that I’d been out at an event at that time. But the talking, the energy that I used, the interaction…they were all too much, and I hated that it was so. I wasn’t happy, but I had to be nice, and courteous, and…oh dear.

Do not get me wrong, I am not depressed every day. Truth is, I am not, most of the time, but I do get on the verge of it, and then catch myself. The times I sink deep into depression are the days that I suffer really bad flare ups that don’t allow me to do anything at all. A lot of studies show that people suffering from chronic conditions are prone to anxiety and depression – it is not surprising. This is not easy. One more thing in my case, is that I am on antidepressants, actually, although I am on it primarily for nerve damage and not because I have been clinically diagnosed with depression. Sometimes, I wonder…what if I stop taking them? Will I topple into deep, deep depression? Is this pill what is holding me back?

I’d like to think not. In fact…I think not.
But… *shrugs*

About The Author:
Amma Konadu is a young poet, writer, blogger and literary enthusiast. She was an English Major in The University of Ghana and is currently doing her postgrad studies at the Regional Institute for Population Studies, University of Ghana. Her research interests are in Gender, Religion and Sexual Reproductive Health and Risk Issues. She blogs personally at ammakonadu.wordpress.com, is the editor-in-chief and runs a book review column at theampedhub.com and co-runs a Christian Women Blog at c2bghana.WordPress.com

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