I showered this morning. In fact, as I type this, I’m sitting on my bed in a robe with wet, and partially brushed hair.
This may seem like no big deal to most.
However, when you are clinically depressed, it might just be.
I didn’t shower for over a week before this morning. I hate admitting it. I don’t admit those kinds of things to my closest friends. My mind equates poor hygiene with laziness, and I literally cannot admit to anyone anything that might even imply laziness.
It’s not that I didn’t want to shower. I felt vile and disgusting and fee things will make you feel worse about yourself than truly awful personal hygiene. I didn’t want to see or be seen. I hated myself for not showering.
So why didn’t I just shower?
Did you know that depression can cause extreme fatigue? I’m not talking “I went to bed too late so I’m tired”, I’m talking “I haven’t slept in days and my whole body aches with weariness and my brain literally hurts from exhastion and even thinking about moving feels overwhelming and I might cry if I consider it too long” complete and total fatigue.
Did you know this kind of overwhelming fatigue can completely override your life? Your sense of hunger, your will to maintain your hygiene, any interest in anything at all?
Did you know that depression is often accompanied by another illness such as fibromyalgia, low thyroid, or any number of things that can ALSO cause fatigue?
I have hypothyroidism and fibromyalgia. At the moment, I’m not on anything for the fibromyalgia because the last med I took to control it left me wanting to stab myself and literally sew my mouth shut. My doctor thought it best to taper off of it instead of continuing the risk of me doing some permanent, and possibly fatal, harm to myself. So now I have to wait until Thursday to discuss new options.
In the meantime, I’m left with uncontrolled fibromyalgia and uncontrolled depression and when you combine those, it’s hard to function at a level that resembles human.
Sothis morning, I finally have the tiniest spark of energy and I FORCE myself to shower. I throw on a robe and collapse on my bed for a while. Finally, I’ve regained enough energy to brush my hair.
Where is my hairbrush? I couldn’t find it anywhere, which is odd since I only use it in one place.
Suddenly, it occurred to me: it might still be in my duffel bag.
You see, last weekend, I went to my brothers’ place. Naturally, I packed my brush. And since I’ve neither showered, nor brushed my haor, in over a week, I had never unpacked it.