Parkinsons … is this what people talk about? Or is it what they don’t …

As my followers know, I have been living with Parkinson’s disease for nearly eight years. I retired from full-time work six years ago. In reality, it wasn’t Parkinson’s that prompted my early retirement; I was burnt out. My superannuation savings became a life raft, guiding me out of my hectic lifestyle toward what was promised to be a new phase of self-managed time and energy. Initially, this change was great, but lately, it has become less so…. as though I’m pulling against an anchor. What has changed?

I would describe this shift in my experience as an overwhelming change in mood. I used to feel excitement from meeting people, starting and finishing complex projects, and contributing to various endeavors. Now, I feel empty—more than empty, I feel there’s a black hole in my world. Like a black hole, it is all-consuming.

Close relatives are pleased with my newfound ability to say no and turn down requests for my time. What they don’t realize is that I am actually retreating into myself. Is this an unspoken aspect of Parkinson’s? Is there a cloud of depression that falls on your shoulders when you realize that merely participating in a conversation requires concentration, dedication, planning, and cognitive speed that feels insurmountable?

I always thought that people with depression were overwhelmed by sadness. I don’t feel sad; I feel lost. Is this what they mean by Parkinsonian depression?

Or, is this the beginning of cognitive decline? I haven’t lost the capacity to tackle complexity, solve problems, or lead. I don’t struggle to find words or connect ideas. However, I feel like a sloth, dragging myself through thick mud. My memory remains intact, and I can still effectively guide my students through complex sequences of Socratic questioning, exposing flawed concepts and misconceptions. I still feel one step ahead. I still hold onto several part-time jobs. Thankfully, I no longer experience tremors, as my medication seems to control that issue. But things are not the same—I am not the same. I feel more like Eeyore than Rabbit. Perhaps I feel like I am ensnared with an anchor holding me down, keeping me still.