In high school, we read a novel was about white prep school boys. It was otherwise fairly dull and forgettable to 16 year old me. I only remember two things: one; a boy dies from a broken leg, and two; the more things change, the more they stay the same. The latter was stated in the book, and was based on a quote from French writer Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr who wrote, “plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose”.
The quote has stayed with me far more than the novel ever did. Some days, it is a comfort; no matter how strange the world can be, there is always joy. Dogs are always silly, chocolate is always delicious, and world continues on. But lately, it has been a curse, reminding me that I will never be rid of my depression. No matter where I go or what I do, it will be there, a haunting specter.
I was diagnosed with depression at 18; that means that I have now been knowingly struggling with depression for over half my life. On top of the stresses and concerns of daily life, my depression lurks. Throughout move to difference cities, the death of my father, COVID, all of it, I am very much aware of how depression effects my life, and the knowledge that it is never gone. Yesterday and today, I'm in a hopeless sort of mood. My depression has gotten worse, indicating a need for changes to my medication.
It's disheartening. At some point, my medication will hopefully be balanced, and I'll feel more in control. And then, at some other point, I'll feel worse. It will start as a creeping discontentment, obscured by my ever-present anxiety and restless mind. It will keep getting worse, until I fall into a numb state that I don't even recognize as part of my cycle. I'll feel worse and worse; I'll stop laughing so much, I'll feel hopeless. And then, usually after some kind of a crying breakdown, I'll recognize my symptoms. And I'll see the cycle, repeating again and again, written in the stars of my future. So today, I feel broken and hopeless, staring at the endless dull grey of my future life. And this will pass. I will feel content again, feel happy. And I started therapy with betterhelp not too long ago. I know I'm going in the right direction. But sometimes, it helps to say the things you keep inside.
To give credit where credit is due, the novel is "A Separate Peace" by John Knowles. It took me 15 minutes of searching online to recall enough details so that I could find the name.
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