Experience and Discovery

 To recap, I recently came to the revelation I may be autistic. What complicates it is that I am over 50 and all these years I have compensated.... to a point. 

You can only tread water for so long before you tire and start drowning. (And I can't swim, either.) Another way of looking at it is that a glass of water might be easy enough to hold but constantly hold it at arms length and that glass eventually becomes impossibly heavy for a tired limb. 

I was able to work through the depression most of the time, but maintaining that constant level of alert stretched my psyche to breaking.  

I had been maintaining a moderate level of functional and plowed through the times I couldn't. There were a few times the depression got bad enough where I couldn't talk to anybody. Working with the public was a special kind of torture.

Once it got bad enough that I started planning how to end it all with as little fuss as possible. I had a plan but no timeline. Fortunately/unfortunately, it was hard to find the motivation to do anything. 

The thing that pulled me out of it long enough to see a little light was my wife. She came to me one day and asked if I still wanted us to be together. The question was surprising and shocking and it snapped me out enough to realize I needed help. 

In my head, I fought hard to keep the world out but in the process I was hurting those closest to me. I had no choice but to try and find a way to make it better. 

Depression is a selfish condition. It shrinks your world and distills it down to the emotional and physical pain. It alters your perception of reality until you can't see anything else. 

Compared to others, I always felt my depression was less severe. I could still function and do the bare basics to live. A few others I have known, who had depression, didn't survive it.

Depression can also alter your behavior in surprising ways. To some, outwardly I might have seemed aloof or arrogant.  Not wanting to talk to anyone and avoiding social events sometimes makes others think you are angry or antisocial. Internally, I was struggling with fear and self doubt. I was still able to function but most days it was just enough to get the necessities done. 

Finding help can be a problem. The few places that existed were already full or was not covered by my insurance. There was no such thing as mental health apps then, so I needed to find a physician. Help came from a mental health clinic in the form of SSRIs (Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors) plural. The psychiatrist prescribed two antidepressants and an anti-anxiety pill.

I had taken antidepressants before in college and the fact I had two at the same time was disconcerting. 

Gradually I felt better. My interactions with people remained uncomfortable but I could function much better. There were still issues that, I would later learn, were beyond my control.

Though I was feeling better, I still struggled. Things I wanted to do still felt impossible to me. I couldn't understand why small things were such a struggle but I could give so much effort to a job I was less and less happy with.

For a short time I saw a therapist to probe what I couldn't understand. I still felt like I was getting in my own way and while the sessions were productive, I still wasn't rooting out the core issue. I knew something wasn't right and I had doubts it was completely PTSD like I had been told.

Like with so many things, the answer came to me completely by surprise....