Feeling like I'm falling back after 15 years
Let me start by stating I'm 52 years old and have suffered from depression for way too long before looking for assistance. I abused opiates and alcohol. I was high functioning on the outside, but a wreck internally.
I began meds & therapy after September11th. (I worked in Manhattan at the time.) I'm still on meds and in therapy.
I'm pretty much a loner for various reasons, one being I was born as a reader & writer. Recently I broke my wrist on my dominant hand. This is the first time in over 35 years where I haven't written every day. I feel like I'm in solitary confinement.
@JeffWM Hi Jeff - we have a few similarities (age, took too long to seek help for depression...)
It sounds really rough having something part of your daily life become too hard to do easily. Waiting for your wrist to heal is going to take some patience! I hope you can remember this is a temporary setback (which I know doesn't make it any less frustrating!) and that maybe you can discover something else to at least partly take its place. (You're already a reader as well as a writer, the balance might just need to shift for a while!).
I sense worry that this could trigger a downward spiral. I hope your self-awareness of this risk helps keep you safe from it, rather than becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy! Breaking your wrist stinks - it was physically painful and has effects that go beyond that, and it's OK to hate that. Know that you are not alone in your suffering, which is real. I say this not to minimize it in any way, but to remind you that this sort of thing happens to the best of us. It's easy for me, at least, to take these setbacks as harbingers of doom and indications that I am defective or undeserving of good things happening to me. But really, they're just a difficult part of life. Finally, I hope you are a good friend to yourself as you live with this injury. I hope you show yourself some patience and kindness.
@JBlue
There are a few things in my favor now-- alcohol, or anything else, is just not an option. I'm older, more skillful, and unwilling to give up religious vows that free me from substances that just further cloud delusions. I have children now that deserve me being there for them.
Yet, I still suffer alone. Being barely able to write, for me, is akin to living in solitary confinement.
