Recovery notes

Apparently the turning point I noted was in fact one, because a week has passed without any recurrence of depression. This, despite (or perhaps aided by) the fact that I worked 52 hours last week, more than I've done since working as a newspaper reporter 16 years ago. I can pinpoint the onset of this most recent episode to the day my boss left for Halifax—the day after I came down with a cold—February 25. It lifted exactly one month later, on a Sunday morning.

I've noted a couple of points for future reference (my own):

1. Although I still sometimes get depressed on mirtazapine, it happens less frequently and is markedly self-limiting.
2. For most of the duration it didn't prevent me from working, eating, doing laundry, sleeping, basically looking after myself.
3. Although it sapped my enjoyment of life, the depression only became crippling for a few hours at the end. Self-limiting means I have to hit bottom, the wall. I wonder how I might seek that narrow gateway, without fear, in future.
4. As usual, I am flabbergasted at how much I crave the comfort of friends during these periods, but how I'm foiled by my own sense of alienation and helplessness. I always go through weeks when "I don't know what to say." This, of course, is part of the illness.
5. Talking to a few friends finally facilitated catharsis and resolution. If you're reading this, thanks.

Despite all the clarity of these observations, which are by no means new or unfamiliar to me, I wonder whether they will be helpful to me next time. Here they are, at least.

Guelph Lake one evening last week: