Why I left and why it's so hard to come back

It's been close to six weeks since I took a break from the fediverse. I've been writing this post for about three of those. Well, not all the time, of course, but every now and then. And as is my way, I've also agonized over whether or not to post it at all. But, here it is.

Like I mentioned, I have (among other things) major depressive disorder. I was diagnosed officially in my early twenties but I can pretty safely say I've suffered from it in one form or another since I was around 13 or 14 years old. So way, way over half my life. For a long time I thought it was just your typical teenage angst. It wasn't until I was older and talked about it to other people that I realized that no, it's not really typical for a teenager to spend their nights writing suicide letters to their family and planning how to kill themselves. Or, at least it shouldn't be.

So, what would a teenager be depressed about? Well, disregarding the fact that depression is an illness that doesn't always have a clear cause, I think my core reason was difficulties in interpersonal relationships and subsequent self-esteem issues. In other words I was desperate for a connection but never seemed to quite get it, and in time came to think it was my fault for being somehow wrong or weird. Not in small part because that's what I was told by others, over and over again.

The reason I'm telling this is because I feel like none of those difficulties have ever gone away. Getting along with people, making friends, communicating — all of it has been, and still is, a constant source of anxiety for me. There is only one person in my life with whom I can be myself. ...Somewhat. Almost. Like 92%. But I've only been working at it for a meagre 11 years so I'm not too bothered yet. Maybe I'll get to a hundred in the next decade or three.

Anyway, when it comes to everyone else? Anxiety. So much anxiety.

I feel like I'm always saying the wrong thing. I don't have a sense of humour. I can't think of anything to say. I will offend when I'm trying to be funny, will be laughed at when I'm trying to be serious. I will be misunderstood. I can't engage in friendly banter, I take everything too seriously. I'm too sensitive. I'm uncool. I don't fit in.

Also, ever since I got sick a few years ago I started to feel like I was a drain on any relationships I had. I felt like I was always complaining (because there wasn't much else going on in my life except new illnesses and diagnoses) but at the same time I had no energy to listen to other people's troubles. I felt like I was getting more than I was able to give back. I understand that most relationships have ebbs and flows in regard to who gives and needs support but I felt like that particular dynamic would never change in my case. I kept getting sicker and just couldn't keep up with even the little I had in the way of friendships. Over time all of them except one or two faded away.

To this day, those thoughts still roll around in my mind with every relationship I have. And they're always there, all the time. Sometimes I can manage to quiet them down but when I'm in my depressive episodes, they become unbearable and overwhelming and I collapse under them. No amount of reassurance from myself, my loved ones or anyone else can make them go away. I know most of them aren't true, but my feelings overrule everything.

So how has it felt to be away from the fediverse? I hate to say it, but I've felt a profound sense of relief. I don't have to feel anxiety about posting. I don't have to obsess over what other people think of me. But more than that, I don't have to feel guilty for not having the mental energy to keep up with other people's posts. I've been feeling like a bad friend when I can't comment on or even read them. Of course, I'm well aware I don't have to feel these things at all. I'm demanding things from myself that no one else is probably even thinking about. But I just can't shake those thoughts. And they consume so much of my mind that too often I feel like there's nothing else there.

Of course at first it was difficult to stay away. I'd grown accustomed to scrolling the feed. In time, that need fell away. And now that I've tried to come back? I still feel drained. All of it, even silly cat pictures, give me almost the same kind of feeling as doomscrolling the news does. I feel exhausted and sad when I'd like to feel curious or happy about the things I read. This is in no way the fault of those posts or the people behind them. It's just my own thoughts and reactions that are all wonky.

At the same time I also know that it can't be good in the long run for me to disappear back into the void I came from. The original reason I made my account was that I'd try to be more social, even on the internet, and that in time it'd ease my anxiety. And it did, for a time. But now I don't know any more. Well, I do know. I know that spending the rest of my days hiding in my blanket fort can't be the goal, no matter how relieved I might feel at not having to socialize. The goal should be to get this fuckwad brain of mine to behave. I just don't really know how to do that.

Maybe I just need more time. I still haven't managed to make myself contact any healthcare providers. (Well, I did once a few weeks ago but that's a whole other story. Suffice it to say it was worse than useless.) Anyway, if I do manage to find a way to dig myself out of this hole, maybe I'll then once again be able to find the joy I've felt in connecting with people on the 'verse. But for now? I guess I'll just have to wait for better times. Hoping that I can find the energy to try and make those better times happen at some point.

Or I could just start posting again and deal with the inevitable brain gremlin attacks as they come.

Eh, I don't know. And this rambling has once again gone on for way too long anyway. I guess I'll see what happens. Maybe tomorrow I'll magically be cured. Be just about as likely as anything else at this point.