Midlife Blues

I can't identify for certain when it started. I think the earliest indication was that I had difficulty in conversations. Sometimes I had plenty to say, but found it impossible to compose the thoughts into coherent discourse; othertimes I found it nigh impossible to string two words together. I'm quite sure people would have found me rather odd. At work and at home, I found it very difficult to choose my battles – every disagreement was a watershed issue, and "letting it go" was a luxury for people with fewer and lesser concerns than me. I was given a much heavier cross to bear. More recently, I found I was overly emotional about relationships and work: after coming across anything to do with parent/child emotional connections in my children's bedtime stories, I would have to stop and wait for composure to return before continuing; I'd break down on criticism from my wife that I worked too much; and officious emails from my boss that failed to show any understanding of my situation would upset me.

While I knew that I didn't used to be this way, and would have preferred more stability, I somehow made sense of it all: being a scientist, I was so mentally exhausted from work or too deep in thought to think straight and maintain a cogent conversation; I was just that frustrated with always getting a raw deal at work; some confluence of my own messed-up childhood and now having young children of my own is reviving some quirk, etc. As time went on, however, it became increasingly inescapable that I was losing my grip.

I don't know what it was about the public advertising campaign on depression that finally made me consider it. The suggestion never really registered before, as I wasn't melancholy per se, and while I was generally pessimistic and found it hard to control chaotic thoughts, I was never suicidal. These seemed to be prerequisite for depression, or so I thought. Two things in particular made me pursue the possibility: seeing my innocent, beautiful daughters reflecting me by responding with disproportionate disdain in simple interpersonal situations, and my wanting to make sure that my views on my career weren't a symptom of depression before forsaking my 25 years education (including a PhD) and experience.

So I eventually took some self-test or other on the web. Through the first few questions, I could feel that I was on pace to answer "yes" to perhaps half of the 20 questions, and therefore figured I would be borderline at best, and therefore inconclusive -- in the back of my mind, as I answered yes, I thought, "well, 'yes', but who wouldn't answer 'yes' to that?" Most of the questions that addressed stereotypical depression got a "no". I scored 12/20 in the end, and a self-diagnosis of depression wasn't looking likely until I looked up my score: anything over 3/20 qualified as rather likely for depression. Wow.

I took a few more similar tests, and they all pointed to the same thing. I booked myself in to see a shrink, and I was a little concerned as I walked to the office; I felt relatively stable and composed, and worried that the consultation wouldn't reflect how I really felt. It didn't take many questions before I lost that composure, and ultimately he agreed with my self-diagnosis. He also agreed it had probably been going on for several months, if not years.

After clearing the proposed medication (Escitalopram) with another doctor, I began taking 10 mg per day last December. I was warned that it could take up to three weeks to notice any effect, but I noticed a difference after one week. It is just simply lovely. I feel like myself again, for the first time in many years. It is so much easier to let stuff go, and my wife has also commented that I'm much less angry these days. 

An unexpected surprise is that I can have normal conversations again. It turns out that anxiety goes hand-in-hand with depression; for me, just as the depression itself wasn't stereotypical, I did not get panic attacks or anything of the sort. My anxiety took the form of constantly negatively critiquing myself in the eyes of others, worried about how my every word and action was perceived. It crippled my ability to communicate. The anxiety was probably also behind the chaotic thoughts I tried desperately to suppress, where I constantly imagined the worst that could happen. I have so much more control of my mind and my behaviour now, it's just incredible. I am much more conscious of the flow of a conversation without over-analysing it, and I don't have to actively filter so many random thoughts while I'm trying to speak.

As for work, it turns out that I still want very much to quit. The big difference, though, is that I'm really happy with that. I know it's a real feeling, I'm supremely comfortable and in command of the reasoning behind the feeling, and I'm much more at ease as I go about tying off the loose ends in the time that I have left in my current role. It's great!

I should perhaps mention something about the side effects of the medication, as it usually comes up as an important consideration. I did perhaps get a little bit of a dizziness in the first week, but hardly anything worth mentioning. The only real lasting side effect has been a reduced libido. This has actually been positive, as I've now got more similar interest levels as my wife, her being a similar age to me (I guess that's the reason!), and so those politics are much less of a factor in the house, leaving a much more relaxed atmosphere.

I wish I had figured all this out sooner. I feel like I've missed out on so much, as has everybody around me. I don't know how I could have guessed that I was suffering depression sooner, but I'm offering this on the off-chance that it might help somebody else that way. I would never be able to put myself out there like this if I hadn't sought help.

© 2013 J. Gaümann