An article on Bright Side that popped up on my Facebook feed alerted me to the existence of a condition known as Reactive Depression. Prior to this I had only known of Clinical Depression and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
I got curious.
Because for a while now I had been experiencing emotions and symptoms similar to that of both conditions- and yet I knew that it was neither one nor the other.
It was not Clinical Depression.
Having witnessed first hand the behaviour of a person suffering from Clinical Depression, I knew the condition wasn't mine. I hadn't reached a stage where I completely didn't want to get out of bed, have a good meal, read, take a walk, or take a shower. Neither had I reached a stage where I didn't care about my appearance.
And I knew it wasn't PTSD either.
There hadn't been any incident that traumatic to warrant the onset of PTSD. There had been no war, no abuse, no trauma, no shock- nothing so severe that I would have PTSD.
But there was something.
Many a morning I struggled to get out of bed because I was afraid to face the day ahead- afraid- of what the day might bring. Maybe because I knew of what the day would bring- and I was tired of facing it. Even if there were good tasks to be done and I was fine with handling those tasks. I was still afraid.
I had no appetite. Not to say that I get hungry- I did- but I didn't feel like eating too much, and some of my favorite foods didn't seem as tasty as they should have been.
There were panic attacks. Before this I didn't know what a panic attack was. I always thought that it was visible to everyone like an epileptic fit was. Apparently they were not. You couldn't see it from the outside but internally my stomach was in knots, my chest muscles were tight and I was shivering at unexpected moments.
Not just that.
I cried at unexpected moments too. In public, and in private, little tears would suddenly pool at the corner of my eyes and trickle down my cheeks even as I pulled my hood up and used the sleeves of my hoodie to wipe them away.
All in all, there was this air of despondency and gloominess about me. I smiled, yes, to loved ones, to business associates, colleagues, friends, the street cat even, but from moment to moment I would be very conscious of the fact that it was fake. Sometimes it was, sometimes it wasn't.
I tried to smile.
I tried very hard.
But I guess I'm not that good at concealing my feelings.
Loved ones detected the gloominess in me and tried cheering me up. It worked, for a while, but when alone, the despondency and heaviness settled back again. And still I was afraid to face the day. I dragged myself through the necessary tasks of the day and chugged through the routine.
And then there was this consistent tiredness. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Where once I was able to stay past midnight till 3am in the morning, now I fell into bed as early as 10pm. Where once I found joy in reading, now, even though I tried, it was harder to find the enjoyment. Other than work and meals and errands and facing a consistent barrage of pressure, I had no interest or mood to do anything. I didn't give a s*** about the present moment or the present day.
Eventually it reached a stage where I wanted it ALL TO END. Like, seriously END. I didn't want to carry on another day, another hour, another week, another month. I didn't give a s*** to the months ahead and neither did I give a s*** to what was upcoming. I just wanted it all to be done and over. I found myself telling myself that there was nothing to look forward to and how nice if would be if I slept and slept and slept and didn't wake up again.
Acknowledging that you have suicidal thoughts means that, no matter what anyone tells you, or no matter how you don't think it is PTSD or Clinical, there has to be some sort of depression somewhere. And even if it were not, there would have to be something.
That's how the awareness of Reactive Depression came in.
It is a condition that demonstrates symptoms no different from the clinical diagnosis we call Depression, except that the causal circumstances are different.
To put it clearly, Reactive Depression is a category of clinical depression and refers to an inappropriate state of depression that is precipitated by events in the person's life arising as a consequence of severe life events.
But It isn't the same as Grief.
And the main distinguishing factor is that whilst clinical depression may be brought on by biological reasons or various other reasons, this state of mind termed Clinical Depression has to be brought on from a specific situation that has occurred in your life.
A good number of scenarios place the element of Loss as the key determinant. Whether it be a change of environment, a loss of a family member and loved one, moving house, a change of job, illness, or a traumatic incident whichsoever it might be, as long as there was the element of loss, yes, it might be Reactive Depression.
And yes, as I've written a few articles earlier, there HAD been the element of Loss in my life not too long ago.
The description totally fit.
Surprisingly, the definition of what it was that I was experiencing actually brought me a sense of quietness, as in, I knew what was going on, I knew what was happening, I knew why I felt this way and that everything I was feeling wasn't as scary as it initially seemed to be. It also meant that "It too would pass", that "it was not permanent" and that I had something to look forward to, and even though the experts said that it usually lasted a few months with therapy, maybe I could try make it finish off in two... or just a little bit more than two- without therapy, thank you.
PS: If this article sounds disjointed, well, I say let it be and to heck with structure and concise content etc etc etc