SquarePeg Books

Oubliette – French; derived from oublier, meaning to forget; Oubliette refers to a medieval dungeon with an opening only as a small trapdoor in the ceiling.

If you’re a regular visitor to this blog, you know I deal with treatment resistant depression.

I’m approaching 30 years on meds. There are no long term studies for people on antidepressants that go beyond 4 years that I can find.

I have tried “drying out” several times. Sometimes it was because I had to– I was displaying symptoms that, when all other causes were crossed off the list, Serotonin Syndrome was the last possibility the medical establishment was ready to consider (oddly enough, it was my optometrist who told me about Serotonin Syndrome in that situation).

Other times I dried out because I didn’t want to be on meds for the rest of my life.  I do believe that when you have depression, staying on the meds indefinitely is a bit like keeping a cast on a broken foot for far longer than you need to– in the beginning, it is ABSOLUTELY necessary in order to give yourself the best chance to heal properly. But when you leave the cast on too long, the muscles supporting your foot and leg atrophy almost to the point of no return.

So after I’ve had the cast, and regularly see the therapist to strengthen those muscles, I should be able to remove the cast and be on my merry, right?

No.

I’ve been able to kick the meds to the curb for a year or two at a time, but it always turns out the same– I snap like a dried twig and have to go back on them in a hurry.

Now, it doesn’t matter if I’m on the meds or not. I’ll feel myself sliding towards my own personal oubliette. Sometimes incredibly fast;  most of the time it’s more like a slow, inevitable tilt threatening my balance in the beginning — I unconsciously adjust my footing, keep going, adjust, keep moving.  Then at some point I’ll realize “wait a minute, this doesn’t feel right” right before I fall to my hands and knees. After that, the tilting floor is really obvious–there’s no standing; I can crawl, slowly, until the steep grade underneathe necessitates that I start free-hand mountain climbing.

Then i.lose.my.grip. I get swallowed up by the oubliette.

That happened recently. About half of me is dangling, feet in the abyss, while the other half is kinda hanging on.

I say “kinda” because at this stage it’s very difficult to not just let go and fall. I want to. I know I shouldn’t. If I can hang for just 2 more weeks, I can lose my shit all over the place and no one will be bothered by it.

I’ll be bothered by it, but that’s okay. I won’t be messing up anyone else’s schedule or expectations.

Just mine.