Things Epilepsy Taught Me About Depression

I posted the original of this writing here a few days ago. I adapted it for depression. I thought it might be of some use, so I'm posting that adaptation here.

That the Brain is an Unreliable Fact Checker

When people think of epilepsy, they think fall-down seizures, but that’s a tiny percentage of our symptoms. I once saw football-sized bubbles floating all over my garden. I saw a cat jump out of a wall. The brain can create a world that doesn’t exist and make you believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s there. This tiny organ can change your entire reality. Like depression, the brain is a liar. No impression of the world is completely true. If your depression is telling you you’re worthless and there is no hope, don’t trust it because wow, did you see that flying daisy?

That Feelings Aren’t Facts

The temporal lobe plays your feelings like a cello. I once came home feeling miserable enough to rip out my own hair. On the way between one room and another, I turned into Julie Andrews. The Hills were aliiiive with the sound of muuuuusic. Those switches have now been controlled with medication, but they taught me another important lesson about depression: Moods are perceptions. Perceptions aren’t facts.

Epilepsy taught me to expect emotions to pass. Feelings aren’t always based on circumstance so I don’t believe low mood means my reality is different. I ask, “What do I know about my life today?” And what I know is that there’s an adventure around the corner. I’ll hang around until it arrives unless the flying daisy comes first.

That “Fuck it” is the Best Prayer

I spent years trying to force myself to fit into society. I tried to work a full-time job even though I’d always land up bedridden or hospitalised. Anthony Hopkins once asked a Jesuit priest for his simplest and most powerful prayer. The priest said, “Fuck it’.” Fuck it is the prayer that miracles are born from. One day years ago, I said, “Fuck it.” I was defeated, so I never applied for another job again. I started freelancing instead. I made life fit me. I stepped off a cliff to find out if I’d grow wings. A lot of people were furious at me for even trying, but then I flew.

That Doing Small Things Makes a Massive Difference

Epilepsy is rarely fun. One five-minute seizure can lead to a fall or a car accident. Every waking moment you are in danger of dying, and that comes with a lot of fear. I spent many years feeling scared of getting hurt. Nothing could make me 100% safe from my own brain, but I made small changes anyway—Only cross at the traffic light. Shower. Don’t bath. Stay away from ladders. See your doctors. Take your meds. Once I’d done everything in my power to keep myself safe, my fear magically evaporated. Now when my depression leaves me feeling powerless and overwhelmed, I do the next right thing. Even if it’s a small thing, it gives me peace because then I feel permitted to say "fuck it" about the rest.

That Remission Can Take Longer Than You Think

I often hear depression sufferers say they’ve been working all year to find the right antidepressant. It took me 20 years to find the right anticonvulsant for my epilepsy. We tried every combination available and every off-label drug we could think of. One day eight years ago, my neurologist tried me on a drug nobody thought would work. And it did. My epilepsy has been controlled ever since, so please don’t stop looking for the right therapist and medication. I know that feels well-nigh impossible, but it’s worth it.