Twilight

"Why did you wait so long to get help?"

The question, from a family member, came after I was released from hospital and doing better.

It wasn't asked in anger, frustration or exasperation. 

He simply wanted to know why, if things were so serious, I had to admit myself to the hospital once the crisis hit instead of seeking treatment earlier when the symptoms started to appear.

I spoke to another friend who is currently being treated for cancer.

He found himself in an analogous situation. Seemingly random infections. Pain that came and went. Fatigue. A general feeling of being unwell. Since they didn't necessarily happen all at once, he initially shrugged them off as the trials of getting older. Maybe too many beers and wings while watching hockey at the pub.

When the symptoms became more frequent and concurrent, he made the appointment that eventually lead to the cancer diagnoses.

Those of you who know me well will probably say, but wait, you've experienced the symptoms of depression and anxiety since you were a young boy. How could you not see this coming?

For one reason, I never have a symptom-free day. Many of the symptoms are so ingrained in my brain they are always there like the tinnitus I have 24/7 in my left ear.

Some days they're almost silent, other days they scream.

These include feelings of self-hatred, guilt, imposter syndrome and mental exhaustion.

When things get more serious other symptoms appear. Loss of interest in things I normally enjoy doing. Overeating. Brain fog. Hopelessness.

And, when things are blackest, not wanting to live anymore. (Just a side note here—I am not and was not suicidal during this latest breakdown. I will talk about suicidal ideation, passive and active planning and the difference between them in the next post).  

Over the past several months, I had kept up my indoor cycling but I no longer looked forward to climbing on the bike. 

I had completely stopped reading and would watch Seinfeld to try lighten my mood but it didn't help.

I suspected something was going seriously wrong when I started struggling at work. I used to be able to knock off a news release in 20 minutes. Now when faced with writing one I would stare blankly at the blank screen. I would choke out a sentence or two and then run out of steam. 

Words I knew the definitions to looked strange. I would have to look them up to make sure I was using them correctly. 

What used to take 20 minutes now took more than an hour.   

I would attend virtual hour-long meetings and not be able to follow the conversation. I became confused, disoriented and retained little, if anything, from the meetings. 

Normally I would take notes and then use them to finish a task later. I was reduced to doing the task in real time during the meeting because my notes made little sense when I consulted them later. 

The darkness that had been gnawing in at the edges grew darker, stronger. 

The last embers of the dying twilight faded.

Night fell.