Initiating conversations about depression

For some reason, I know and/or am close to a lot of people who have known psychological issues, especially depression. For example, Vinokur, my first ex-boyfriend has a plethora of neuroses, including Type II Bipolar Disorder. My second ex-boyfriend Joe has depression, but is still in the closet. My present boyfriend J has been diagnosed with depression and is supposed to be on therapy for it, but is not the most compliant patient.

My sister has symptoms similar to me, but is not willing to take treatment. My dad and mom too have a variety of symptoms. Several of my close friends have depression and they are friends with me because they can freely and openly have conversations with me. Conversations both about depression and otherwise. I tend to empathize with them and don’t force them to do things that they are not comfortable with.

So why am I ranting about it? To spread awareness about it, actually, and to share my learning experiences. About my point…

Although being perpetually distracted is a known symptom of depression, it is something that people don’t notice too often. Maybe they do, but they don’t attribute it to depression. I think it goes hand in hand with the fact that you don’t want to seek help to treat it and that you don’t want things to change. Plus, of course, if you are like me, you are likely thinking you deserve to be punished for being such a bad person.

I noticed recently that most of the time that I have known J, when I initiate conversations about some chores/tasks that we need to collaborate on to finish, he seems distracted and preoccupied with something else. He behaves like a little school kid being forced to listen to a lecture that he/she is not interested in. I used to think of this a rude, unkind, inconsiderate behavior.

Two nights back, I was at my apartment, feeling nice and refreshed after a relaxing session of EMDR. I am usually hesitant to initiate conversations. But I felt great about myself and I decided to call J on Skype. The conversation started smoothly. J was happy that I called and was playful and clowning around as usual. However, I had to initiate some serious conversation about his health and the things that we need to get done for his birthday party this weekend.

As soon as I did, however, he seemed to zone out. He started picking up things from his desk and shelves and examining them and rearranging them. He was listening to my monologue all throughout. When his turn to respond came up, he did not have much to say. This slowly built up to a point when I waited for a full minute for a response. Of course, I didn’t get any.

I decided that it was time to let him know what I thought. And I did. He didn’t receive it well. The conversation was awkward and he hung up unceremoniously. This was not uncharacteristic of J and the conversations that we have.

I closed Skype and started working on one of the tracks I was working on, and got lost in it. In about half hour’s time, I got a call from J on Skype. This time he acknowledged that he realizes that he has been distracted and he wants to snap out of it. As usual, I suggested that he get an appointment with his shrink about it.

As a concluding note, I feel that I did something good. At the very least, I think I was successful in reinitiating the process of recuperation.

Telephobia

It’s a forgotten fact about my forgettable past. Yes, I used to be an introvert once. My tenure as a medical student and the responsibilities related to my sister’s marriage, which, in turn, was a result of the sheer ineptitude of my father in tact and intrafamilial affairs, had allowed my de-cocooning and metamorphosis into a social butterfly.

Most of my current friends haven’t a clue about this dark aspect of mine. Let me try to put it in a rather complex way: my past is not present in their past related to me because I was not present in their past at that stage. Anyway, my introversion remanifested around the time I had to deal with the mental trauma related to Vinokur’s illness/visit and the eventual separation; it has now established itself to be the primary trait in my present day life.

One of the characteristic features of this shade of my personality is my fear to have phone conversations. A Google search tells me that this is a prevalent, relatively well-known phobia and is referred to as phone phobia, telephone phobia, or telephobia. My telephobia is currently rooted in my fear to have conversations with people who I have a difficult job convincing my side of things in traumatic topics, which include my career choices, familial duties, and depressive tendencies.

Although my best friends (Chuck, Ray, and May) have the level of understanding with me that should enable a conversation, I still fear the trauma associated with the reestablishment of a torn umbilical cord — nature lets the umbilical cord atrophy, we try to put it back together. What I’m trying to say is that – it’s that hard for me to speak to anyone, even my best friends.

My telephobia, which is an element of the broad umbrella of social phobia, is acute with my family, relatives, and friends from my past. Please note that the modifier ‘from my past’ was not initially meant for the former two items in my three-item list, but can encapsulate them as well, because of the obvious — I have honestly moved on from my family and relatives, haven’t I?

Thus I don’t take calls from my past and definitely don’t make calls to those associated with it. Simple. Avoid trauma — the reincarnations of the past that I have left behind for good, even though a very tiny part of I may still want that past to be a part of my present.

When not at its inglorious best, my telephobia manifests as rudeness or curtness. Sometimes my perplexity as to what necessitated a phone conversation in the first place, when we could have perfectly avoided it, seeps through, you see. I often forget to sugarcoat my words in the social context and I misunderstood as the consequence. People fail to understand that I’ve never had that part in my machinery to start with — so how can have the oil to lubricate it?

Maybe this post is not cogent and is rather disoriented. But the final message is this — for telephobic folks like me, SMSes, e-mails, and even face-to-face conversations work better. There it is for you; that little snippet of me is out.