limb by limb and tooth by tooth, tearing up inside of me, every day every hour, I wish that I was bullet proof

Saturday, 09/02/17, 11:58am, 2:06pm

Ugh. Blech. Today is not turning out to be the best day so far. Or even a good day, rather. I'm feeling rather down, after churning out a more positive blog post yesterday, and it's making me feel more stupid because of the positive post. Like what was I thinking, feeling all positive then? And it makes me feel like I shouldn't have canceled the treatment appointment I originally had scheduled for yesterday as a "just in case". I guess maybe I kinda did need it? Now I'm waiting until next Wednesday.

I dunno. I mean, it's not like I'm totally relapsed or something like that. I just feel down, and it's hard to use all the coping mechanisms I need to in order to pull myself out of this. I just... I dunno. All I really feel like doing today is distracting myself from feeling down by just doing other things and trying not to think about it.

It's hard.

I was trying to come up with things to do to feel better...

• take deep breaths
• blog
• read

I had trouble coming up with more, and I'm having trouble again.

Sigh, took a break from this, and am now attempting to come back to it. I've since eaten lunch, locked myself in the bedroom to get away from the people of my family because I can't handle anything right now, got some crying out; I messaged a small friends group we have for some "comfort" and have since received some amazing photos and meme-type labels of our friends' adorable little baby. It helped make me realize we have good friends. I guess it made me feel slightly more open to the idea of attempting the blog again, so that's good, right?

Sigh, this day, man.

I suppose I'm more open to blogging but don't know what to blog about. Although, one thing worth mentioning, having a mental illness in this world totally, utterly sucks, like big time. Most of the time, I don't feel comfortable talking about my mental illness, and you know, even when I do, it's limited, like what I feel comfortable talking about, who to, how much of the details to give. And I'm, well, a bit more open about it than most people with a mental illness. Do you know why it's so difficult to talk openly about it? It's because of the very, severely widespread stigma that exists. Like SEVERELY widespread. I don't think most people who display stigma about mental illness even realize that they do it. But a lot of people out there have little thoughts about mental illness, like "oh, if you'd just think more positively" or "oh, if you just ignored those thoughts". There's a ton more that qualify, but, honestly, part of the reason I'm not going to list out more examples, is thinking about stigma examples isn't going to help how I'm currently feeling.

It's difficult not to think the typical stigmatized thoughts about people with mental illness. And it probably doesn't help that we tend not to be all that open about what we're going through. So it's difficult to break down that stigma. Somebody like my husband, who hears most of the stuff I go through and most of the thoughts I have and struggles that exist for me day to day, usually bears a lot less of that stigma than the typical person, because really he gets it a lot more than others. But educating yourself about the struggles of mental illness, etc is something that's doable for anybody. There actually exist lots of reading materials, blogs like mine which give a more personal viewpoint, and maybe one of these days I'll try to find a fair amount of that and list them out here on the blog. Right now I'm not capable, too... down still. Sigh.

Alright, I think that's about all I can handle blogging today, mostly just to let you all know that despite my positivity yesterday, it isn't that every day. I'm still working at it, really really hard, and not giving up. Hopefully it's not just this up until I have my treatment again, hopefully this is a one day downer.

I wish I was special... but I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo, what the hell am I doing here?

Sunday, 08/28/16, 10:57am

Sometimes depression and anxiety can really make me feel "crazy". I feel like I truly am that stigmatized view of a crazy person. I'm crying for no apparent reason, I shout over stupid random things, and I can't seem to handle myself when it appears from the outside that I have a great life. But then depression and anxiety know no reason. Why do we think that the only people who have the right to be depressed are when they are truly dealt with the crap of life? We think you've got to be dealing with poverty, abuse, trauma, physical illness, grief, or whatever else to have the right to depression. Someone like me, someone who's got the luxury to be at home with her two wonderful, always well behaved children, someone who's got a suburban house with a basement, a mortgage, a supportive husband and loving family shouldn't deserve that right. It's just so stupidly nonsensical for someone like me to have depression, you just want to say "shut up and stop feeling sorry for yourself", right?

Of course when I go down that path of thinking myself, I start thinking that's true, I don't have that right. And yet inexplicably I still have this depression. It hits me like a ton of bricks sometimes, and if I question all those feelings and say to myself "what is wrong with you? what do you have to be depressed about?", I feel that much more shame over it and I spiral downwards that much further.

Not only do I feel (in this state) extreme sadness over my life, worthlessness about myself and my existence, but on top of that I feel extreme shame. Crippling, desperate shame. I'm supposed to know how to get better. I'm supposed to be able to pull myself out of this. I'm supposed to be able to will myself to be happy, or exercise, or eat the right things, or practice mindfulness more, or read the right books, and it will work. I'm just failing and that's why it's not working.

Instead I find myself crying on my bed silently, hoping the kids won't leave their show downstairs to try to find me and discover me in this state. I don't want to actually tell anyone how I'm feeling, I don't want to reach out to someone who can help me, because then I have to admit the shame that I've let the depression cripple me again.

But I am switching medications right now and that is hard stuff. I haven't "let the depression cripple me again"; I am fighting these feelings with every ounce of my being, I'm fighting to keep them out, to keep out those thoughts that I am a bad person and everyone would be better off without me. Sometimes, it just takes every bit of me to fight those thoughts.

I think some people think I'm crazier for sharing about my depression. Maybe some people think that we shouldn't be discussing this stuff openly, maybe some people think that I should just snap out of it, and maybe some people learn more about me and think I'm just this stupid, scary, crazy person. Whatever. Maybe I am crazy, but I'm dealing with it as best as I can, and I am still trying to be as good a mother as I possibly can. Maybe I'm not doing it the way you would be, but I'm still trying my damnedest.

Nasser is out of town this weekend for a bachelor party. I've been trying so hard not to share my struggles with him because I wanted him to have a happy, carefree time, but this morning on the phone, I broke down. After Nasser listened for awhile, he gave me some ideas, told me he loved me, and assured me as he always does that I can do this. I did some mood tracking, texted someone for potential help (very casually of course because I apparently can only be this honest on my blog), and now here I am pouring my thoughts into my Chromebook.

It's going to be ok. Some day this new medication is gonna kick in and we'll see if it's good enough long term for me. I keep trying, sometimes it's a big struggle, but it always gets better eventually, right?

does it feel left behind, all alone, all alone

Tuesday, 06/21/16, 3:25pm

I think I now know the vulnerability hangover. There's the glaring thought in my brain today of "what were you thinking, sharing your blog on facebook? most of those people barely know you!" I've just invited a whole bunch of people in to know me much much better.

Gulp.

Ok, but I chose to do that. Fully knowing these feelings may come. But many of these feelings seem petty and weak and... I feel awful and low over the thoughts going through my head. I feel like I should be stronger or something, but maybe my feelings are perfectly natural.

I need to remember my goal. (Really the number one goal is to help me; my blog provides my writing therapy). But I also hope that through my words I may help those who struggle with mental illness, help those who support people with mental illness, and break down the stigma a little bit at a time.

I refer to the stigma a lot around mental illness, but does everyone understand what it is and what it means? When I search "stigma", Google's first definition that pops up is:

stig·ma

ˈstiɡmə/

noun

1. 1.

   a mark of disgrace associated with a particular circumstance, quality, or person.

   "the stigma of mental disorder"

   synonyms:

   shame, disgrace, dishonor, ignominy, opprobrium, humiliation, (bad) reputation "the stigma of bankruptcy"

Notice how the first example is "the stigma of mental disorder". Now really, if someone has a disease of the brain, why the FUCK should they feel ashamed, disgraced, or dishonored in any possible way????

We need to all understand, mental illness is NOT in the control of the person who has it. It is within that person's control to seek treatment, however it is made harder to do so because of the debilitating fear of stigma.

The fear of being rejected, of being told it's your fault. The fear that others will think differently of you, that others will define you by your illness.

Those fears are not unfounded. Mental illness is so stigmatized, people are afraid to discuss it. Only in relevance to mass shootings, as one of the causes. That just makes the stigma worse.

Take a little break, and watch this episode of John Oliver's on Mental Health. He's got his facts straight. It's worth your time, even if you can only dedicate a minute to start it.

It's hard to watch it, and not be reminded of how our mental healthcare system failed Adam.

For me, stigma is a friend who has closed off to me ever since I became open about my illness. I notice those and they hurt. Stigma was not being able to get the right care from my ob-gyn because I mentioned the word depression. The fear of stigma is not wanting to go out in public when I'm depressed and I worry people will judge me. The fear of stigma was refusing to call the doctor when I first realized I was depressed. I had to get over that hump too. And that hump can vary in size between people. It's often worse for men, because society creates these strong man expectations and because depression is viewed as weakness.

Ugh, stigma. It makes us refuse to talk about mental illness and so makes these diseases incredibly lonely. I refuse to stop talking about it. Even if I stand alone.

don't stop believin', hold on to that feelin'

Tuesday, 06/14/16, 10:11am

I can feel I'm on the mend. I think I'm almost over the big depression rut that I've been in for the last two weeks. There's still complicated grief, but the depression part is improving.

There have been a few times in the last two weeks where Nasser and I have considered talking me to the hospital. Each time we've come to the conclusion that we don't need to go there, but I know I also have this stigma and fear of the hospital. My only experience with it was so tainted by the traumatic intake that I have absolutely no interest in going through that again. 

I've talked with a couple friends recently about hospital experiences, and although they vary, the trapped, jailed feeling is there with any form of involuntary stay. The scared, take away all my rights awfulness. I wish there was a better way to handle that because having those feelings doesn't help someone in a mental health crisis (at least not for me and the people I've talked to). I've thought more about Adam's hospital stays in thinking more about the hospital. I wonder if that trapped feeling was there for him in the same way, and I wonder if it was ever comforting. I could see how it can be for certain situations, especially voluntary stays. You still relinquish control in a voluntary stay in many ways, but maybe in those situations it feels more right and relieving.

I suppose thinking about hospital stays differently helps me to be willing to use that option if needed. I don't think it's needed anymore, but it was certainly close for a bit.

The control thing in the hospital/mental healthcare setting is tough. It really depends on the patient as to what they need to get better. I don't do well if a lot of my control over my life is taken away. But you have to do that in certain situations, like many times for Adam for instance. If someone is in a mental health crisis, with overwhelming feelings of suicide, etc, I guess you sometimes have to save them from themselves. And taking away their control is the only way we know how to do it.

I do appreciate the amount of control I have over my mental healthcare, and I know that it's vastly improved in more recent years. Patient privacy and control are very important, but then that wasn't really right for Adam's case. Perhaps things would have been different if there had been a nurse or doctor who could really take control over his treatment and get him into the programs and housing he really needed but maybe resisted.

Mental healthcare is a very difficult problem in our world, but as all healthcare becomes more personalized, mental healthcare needs to become that way too. A friend recently passed along an article about a blood test that can help doctors determine if someone will respond well to anti-depressants. That is HUGE! And although it's all preliminary research, I have hope that mental healthcare will become less guesswork as we learn more. But we have to be willing to do that. We have to be willing to improve our mental healthcare system based on what we learn, especially if we're going to keep blaming the mass shootings on mental illness. But I won't get on that soapbox today.

I look forward to a day when mental illness is less stigmatized, where mental illness is treated like a real disease, where the healthcare system provides all the resources needed for mental healthcare, and people seek and receive the care that they need.

why do you weep? what are these tears upon your face?

Thursday, 05/26/16, 9:59am

Grief is hard.

Yesterday I did a lot of normal things. I switched off runs in the morning with my sister, got in a shower, attended RG's presentation on the Smithsonian Museums, ran some errands with TK, talked with another mom after the bus pick up, tried to get our passports taken care of with the whole fam, went to MNO (Mom's Night Out). And yet. The grief was there every step of the way. I grieved while talking about Adam with my sister since I hadn't seen her since before we went to Chicago. I grieved as I thought of Adam on the run, alone with my music and my thoughts. I grieved when I saw RG's teacher and she gave me a few hugs, asked about us, and offered her condolences. I grieved when the cashier at the grocery store asked how I was doing, and after my long pause, and "ok... ay", I felt the need to answer that we had a death in the family. I grieved when I didn't feel like I could go to MNO because I was feeling depressed. I grieved when a friend encouraged me to come, in whatever state. Then I grieved when I had to share a bit of Adam's story with my Uber driver (because driving was out of the question given my state of being and emotion). And I grieved with my fellow mom friends. With each of their hugs and their kind words of support and their listening to me talk about it. I keep needing to talk about it and share my grief with others.

I think grieving so openly yesterday made me seek the safety of home today. And being out there, doing normal stuff, I feel like I can't hide my grief so I share it. It took a lot out of me.

I skipped an exercise class with my sister this morning. Maybe it would have helped in some ways. But being around a lot of people all day again sounded exhausting. The idea of it made me feel anxious. I'll still get my exercise in since Audra is being kind enough to come over and watch TK while I go for a bike ride. But I've got to be around people later today and that's the goal. To make it to and through that. There might be some crying again with the people, hugs and condolences do that to me, and that's ok. I'm not expecting to not have that. But the goal is to get there with just the grief, and none of the anxiety and depression.

Having grief on top of a mental illness, specifically depression, is... I don't know what to call it. Let's just say I don't know how to navigate it yet.

The closest I came to a full-blown episode was Sunday morning in Virginia. It was the morning after the wedding and I didn't get enough sleep which I'm sure didn't set me up well. But I think I'd been keeping myself so busy that the depression hadn't had a chance to catch up with me.

I said something to Nasser, in my lowest point, that I wished it was me who'd been hit by the train. That terrified him because I meant it then. I do feel guilty sometimes for being here when Adam isn't. I feel guilty that I couldn't do more to help him. I should have been able to do more, coming from a place of sharing a stigmatized mental illness. And I know rationally that I couldn't. Oftentimes the worry was of making it worse.

I never shared my blog with him. I will always feel guilty about that because I wonder if it could have helped in any way. Of course it could very well have made things worse.

It doesn't help to think of the "what ifs" but they do come and go.

This morning I feel like it's unfair for me to be functioning so badly. What right do I have to take the grief so hard when I'm not the sister or brother or father or mother and I only knew him for less than 9 years? And I didn't support him as much in his illness while others did so much more?

But then I always felt this closeness in sharing a mental illness, even though everyone was always reminding me that "yeah but they're different". They are and they aren't. I suppose I'm much more high functioning than he was. But my illness does fall into the "chronic" mental illness category of never really being "in recovery". And I know what it's like to feel stigmatized, even if my mental illness is better accepted than his is. I know what it's like to have expectations of yourself that "you should be able to handle this better" without needing help. And I know what it's like to have foreign, extreme thoughts that frighten you to uncontrolled sobs.

Although we will never know exactly what happened on the tracks the night Adam was hit by that train, most of us agree that the mental illness contributed to his death. He wouldn't have been in that place at that time, perhaps if he had his judgement would have been different and he wouldn't have been crossing the tracks. I do blame the illness. I blame the mental healthcare system in our country for failing him.

I hope that someday we have a better scientific understanding of mental illness. I had hoped that day would come in Adam's lifetime but I suppose it wasn't to be. I hope that better treatments come and I hope that the people in our world become more compassionate and more empathetic and more accepting of people with mental illness.

the storm is passing over

Wednesday, 04/20/16, 7:21pm

I should be at book club. I should be enjoying a night out with friends, talking about the book we all didn't actually read this time, drinking wine and eating pizza.

But I am not.

Tonight I was hit with a big wave of anxiety and depression. Just 2 hours before I was telling my sister that I seem to not be experiencing the big mood swing this month with my period (which I officially got today). I was happy, confident, and I was saying that all our runs this week had maybe prevented it.

But it was already stirring. Before we had RG's running club, and just before we really needed to leave to pick him up from the bus, TK had a big meltdown because, well, he didn't want to go potty. I told him he had to go since we weren't going to be near a bathroom for awhile. Then all hell broke loose. I was louder than I should have been, and he was more stubborn than he needed to be, and at one point he was running after me as I was trying to get to the bus stop in time, carrying his shoes and sobbing/screaming at me. Oh it was an epic meltdown.

But here's the thing. Sure, looking at the situation, if I had had more patience, I probably could have diffused the situation sooner. But I held it together much better than I expected.

It wasn't until later that I really fell apart.

TK had some consequences of the yelling/screaming/not listening to Mommy episode. He has video games taken away until Friday. Really, that's not that bad. But to this 4 and 3/4 year old, it is the end of the world. So everytime it comes back up, some of that yelling/screaming comes back. And RG started nagging about screens the second running club finished. And then we come home to TK being too affectionate with the cat again, as in squeezing until Buddy starts acting like he wants to bite him.

I couldn't parent this evening. I started getting angry. I yelled. I yelled things I shouldn't have. I'm pretty sure I yelled to RG at one point that he is never ever allowed to yell at Mommy or Daddy.

I locked myself in my room and broke down. I pleaded with RG to let me have a break as he lectured me on how he is allowed to yell in certain situations, like when Mommy hurts him "on the inside" (his version of emotionally). Oh ho, I sure had some harder sobbing when he told me that.

I hate getting angry with my kids. I hate that I yell at them when I do. I want to help them navigate their emotions better by leading by example. And I fail at that. A lot.

I guess tonight was mostly about feeling like a failure as a parent. Looking back, I'm glad I did put myself into a timeout by locking myself in my room for awhile, even though I desperately needed it to break down. And I did apologize to both kids for getting angry and yelling.

I guess I wasn't safe from the anger of the Period. Hah. Ugh. Nasser and I talked some about periods tonight. How they're so stigmatized. How the brand Thinx (period panties- they are AWESOME) has trouble advertising because they can't get on news stations' shows to discuss their new product because they don't want to say "periods" on air. (WTF?) How women in third world countries are so stigmatized they can't go to school during their period or they get banished to a shed. (Reference: Nasser) He mentioned an NPR article all about periods, which you can read here. And you should. Because I just did. And it is worth learning more about menstrual hygiene products, and FDA regulation of them, and hey, remember that woman who ran a marathon without wearing any? Did you think that was gross? Or interesting? Yeah, all of you need to read this article. Here's the link again, in case you don't want to scroll back up to find it.

I'm not going to let this post get taken over by talk about periods. But hey, guess what, that topic is FAAAIR game. And just as I don't let the stigma over depression and anxiety prevent me from talking about them, I won't let the stigma of periods prevent me from talking about them either.

Nasser made me a list based on some things we were discussing for topics to talk with providers. We're going to continuously update it together. Because a lot of times he and I talk about something that I want to also discuss with my therapist or my psychiatrist, but then when it comes time for the appointment, I forget. And if I have my appointment on a good day, I don't remember to talk about the lows as much. Tomorrow, with my psychiatrist, I plan to talk about the really low lows and frequency and how much should my meds really be doing etc etc etc. I'm doing much better now, after blogging, but man I am sick of those low lows. Maybe a different medicine combination would prevent those. Of course, they might make the lows worse, or they might get rid of the highs, or they might cause suicidal thoughts, or weight gain, or acne.

I'm back to much much better. And I was laughing when Nasser came in the room earlier. Maybe the running has helped me recover faster and better, even if it didn't prevent the episode in the first place.

and so I cry sometimes when I'm lying in bed

Thursday, 03/31/16, 8:36am

I think I'm feeling really overwhelmed. I spent awhile going through some important emails, adding stuff to my calendar. And I still feel overwhelmed. I feel like I can't keep up with my life, even though I quit my job last August partially in order to more successfully do so. I've gotten some good exercise in this week so far, but I decided to take a break from that this morning in order to take care of myself at home. I plan to climb with a friend this evening, and I desperately don't want to have to back out because I'm depressed. I'm blogging to help with that right now and that's good. Because I've been stupid and have avoided it for several days.

There I am beating myself up. Like I always do. And then I beat myself up for beating myself up.  It's a viscous cycle. Very related to the guilt/shame thing.

Nasser told me that "You're a wonderful person. I'm sorry you have trouble seeing that sometimes." I have a lot of trouble seeing that. Most of the time.

It sucks that I seem to need to be on my game all the time or something in order to avoid these depressive episodes. And everytime I have one (an episode), it feels like this big failure. Why can't it just feel more normal to be depressed? Maybe I wouldn't have such a hard time if it wasn't so stigmatized. If it wasn't unacceptable to miss something because of depression. I'm beating myself up for skipping an exercise class with my sister due to the depression this morning. Because if it was a headache or something physical, I wouldn't feel shameful about it. But even though she totally understands, I feel total and utter shame for having to sit on my bed and sob while I blog.

Why is it such a fight to de-stigmatize depression/anxiety/mental illness? Why can't we all understand that this happens, it's not because the person isn't strong enough, it's not because the person isn't thinking positively enough? You know what? Seriously? Shit happens sometimes. Everyone deals with it the way they can. And if it requires antidepressants, therapy, psychiatrists, and support from friends and family, that is OK. I can list at least 3 to 4 people off the top of my head I know who struggle with things but refuse to seek help. All because of the fucking stigma. That is messed up people. (I am totally NOT blaming those individuals by the way. It is the stigma that they feel, that all of our damn society feels. That I continuously feel in my struggle to live with my mental illness.)

I hate the fucking stigma.

Don't pity me today. Instead try to change that thought. Think of it more like a debilitating headache. Something totally normal, most likely not caused by my own actions. Think, oh she's not feeling well today, but she'll get better again. She needs to do some things to make it better: take a nap, take some ibuprofen, (aka take an anti-anxiety pill, blog), lower some of the expectations for the day and feel better tomorrow. Or maybe even later tonight when she wants to go climbing. It isn't the end of the world. She'll get better. You give me strength to get through this when you have that thinking too.

For those of you suffering from your own struggles, I'm thinking of you today and rooting for you. You'll get better as well.

I'm going to finish with the music video to the song I used for the blog post title. It's worth a listen. What an improvement to my mood. I feel like it's a strong feminine song, it throws in a little de-stigmatizing of crying/depression, it's perfect for me right now. I'm even going to take a second listen. I'm getting there. To that better state.