Self care, Mental illness, and Word choice

Recently I noticed that since starting my new SNRI, my nails have grown. The two are not directly related, but the change is significant because one of my first coping mechanisms when I'm stressed or anxious is to rip off the ends of my nails causing them to be constantly short. I was excited, because this was a physical sign -- an unexpected physical sign -- that I've been feeling better. "It's not all in my head," I thought, "I really am doing better this time."

But then today when I was looking at my nails I experienced something else. I had the desire to file them. I wanted to take care of my cuticles and file my nails and add polish to them to make them pretty. So I did. And I felt happy and proud of myself for doing so. I felt like this, too, was a sign that I have been feeling better, a sign that I am feeling better. But I couldn't put it into psychological wording why this was a sign until I realized that the wording is off. Being able to grow my nails and enjoying painting them are little things. They are tiny, little almost insignificant things. And that's why I wasn't looking for them.

One of the questions I often get asked as a person with an anxiety disorder/depression (by medical professionals and others in the psychological/psychiatric community) is something along the lines of "do you get as much enjoyment out of things as you used to?" Yes, this is a helpful diagnostic question, but it doesn't help if I've stopped doing these things altogether. I also tend to be asked "Have you lost interest in the things you enjoy doing?" Which does somewhat address this, but when I think about things that I enjoy doing, I don't think about the little things. I think about my hobbies like playing video games, reading, cooking, etc. but I don't think about painting my nails. And that's the problem. I miss out on the little things because I'm focusing on the big picture and looking for an overall to encompass everything. Maybe my thinking is too narrow; perhaps it isn't narrow enough; but the point is that I stopped. I stopped painting my nails and taking good care of them because I stopped caring. It was more important to get the little bit of solace and reassurance from ripping my nails to shreds than it was to enjoy taking care of them in the long run. So yes, I lost interest in painting my nails. I lost interest to the point that I full out stopped painting them and caring for them. And since I stopped doing it, I wasn't getting as much enjoyment out of it. I wasn't getting any at all.

The problem here is that taking care of my nails is one of my many self-care mechanisms. It relaxes me, it calms me, it makes me feel accomplished and proud of myself and happy. It is also one of the first things I lose when I get stressed, anxious, or depressed, and one of the (likely many) that I fail to notice. I make excuses for it such as "I'm too busy to spend an hour doing nails." And while that may sometimes be true, it isn't when I still spend that hour watching TV. Losing a self-care mechanism to depression is the beginning of a cycle, and that's where we need to stop. Now that I know one of my initial signs, I know to watch for it, and when to seek help. Hopefully next time it's before I get too deep because crawling myself out of this last hole took almost everything I have and some.