Tuesday, 03/07/17, 9:38pm, 1:43pm
Well, yesterday's post was all hopeful and feeling like I'd had a turning point in getting better. I guess it's only inevitable that this morning, the depression hit hard and I'm just feeling incredibly stupid for having hoped at all.
I hate days like today. Days where I feel so incredibly small, so worthless. Days where I just want to be done. Done with everything- with life, with depression, with anxiety, with being a mom, with responsibility, with expectations. It's really hard to have those thoughts of despair, yet I know I have no option there other than to persist forward. I have to keep trying- for my kids, for my husband, for everyone who loves me, for future me.
It's always difficult to write a really downer post. One full of my real thoughts of despair, in the moment. Maybe it's not something that's the best for me to share about with anyone and everyone, but then I also feel strongly that it's critical to share this stuff. Because what if there's someone else out there who has these feelings too? But they think they're alone because most writers of depression share after the fact. And we're expected to express hope the strongest. I found out yesterday about some guidelines for writing about mental illness from NAMI, the National Alliance on Mental Illness. Now granted this is for when you're representing NAMI, which I don't profess to do. At the bottom, they mention specific words or phrases to avoid. Including, contrary to my personal belief, the word "suffer".
From the site:
Suffer. Although there are times when a person is suffering, we avoid it when it discussing mental health. We opt for more hopeful language that is forward looking.
I see where they're coming from, but gosh, I've used the word suffer in my blog way more times than I can count. And to me, I think this is incredibly ignorant to try and rub this word out of our vocabulary. In fact, many people DO suffer from mental illness, regularly, just as people suffer from physical illness. Why should we pretend that this isn't a major component of mental illness? By only focusing on the hope, you invalidate what people are suffering. For me, the focus on hope and people constantly telling me to "think positively", "you gotta hope for the future", etc, worsens the self-stigma I put on myself. When I'm not feeling hopeful, I feel guilt and shame over it. Hope doesn't fix mental illness. Sure maybe it can help to change your outlook on life which may improve mood, etc, but hope for me is a double-edged sword. Hope destroys me when I do suffer because 1. How dare I give in to the suffering and not keep hoping? and 2. Here I thought I was doing better/will get better and that hope misled me. It made me think that if I just hope and think positively, this will all go away. But nope, it doesn't.
And the constant proof that things that are supposed to help me, but don't (you know things like medication, and therapy, and TMS), crushes that hope over and over again when I keep not getting better. And it makes me question whether or not I really have a disease. If it can't be fixed by all these things, then what's really going on? Is it just that I'm a screwed up person who fails constantly in life? But then we have concluded that I have "treatment-resistant depression," so my "not a disease" logic shouldn't stand.
My therapist recently noted that I seem to fight my diagnosis. I suppose I do. I question it, I self-stigmatize, and I shame myself over my depression and anxiety. And I can't seem to figure out how to stop doing it. I write about the problems with mental illness stigma, and yet I do it all to myself. What the fuck is wrong with me???
It's the depression. It's the illness. It's the brain disease (another word NAMI doesn't want us to use), but it absolutely is that. And although TMS might not be helping yet, there's still time, and hope, really. And please remember, this treatment will help (or not help) regardless of whether or not I hope. I keep going to treatment, I keep trying; isn't that enough? Sometimes I hope, and other times I despair. That's doesn't make me a failure at life, it simply is a side effect of my illness. I'm telling you all this, also in the hope that saying it over and over again will change my own personal views and stupid stigmas.
I wrote most of the above this morning, and although I still stand by all I said, I am feeling a teeny bit better now. Today's TMS appointment went pretty well; talking with a friend present and the technician makes the appointments go by faster and seemingly, less anxiety-inducing.
I feel less despair now, but I know those thoughts aren't far away. They've been close and intrusive for many months now, and I'm ready for that to improve. Whether it's TMS, or attempting medications again after TMS (because some people do respond better to meds after their brain chemistry changes enough from the treatment), or maybe someday I'll even try ECT, but <shudder>, I don't ever want it to come to that.
But regardless of whether or not TMS works, I've been dealing with all this for like 8 years now. I suppose I have shown that I do persist in the face of these challenges, with every day that I get up in the morning. Even if it feels trivial in comparison to what I view as failures.
I know it probably seems like I've been bashing NAMI for the guidelines they've posted, but really I do understand the reasoning behind it, and I know they want to be careful that they aren't triggering people with what they share, and there's a fine line between helping and triggering when it comes to mental illness. And NAMI does so much to support individuals with mental illness and their families, they serve to educate and advocate, and they mostly do a great job doing so. I do feel that some of the choices they made about the latest guidelines aren't considering some of the greater harm they might be doing towards those of us who do suffer, on a regular basis.
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