bright morning stars are rising, day is a breaking in my soul

Friday, 03/11/16, 1:03pm

I'm getting there. It's been a tough week and it's not really over, but I'm getting there. This is probably one of my longest stretches of episode + lots of mini episodes through the recovery. There's that word recovery again. Remember my rant about "being in recovery" and how it doesn't really apply to me? I guess it does to some extent. But with chronic depression, it keeps coming back over and over and over again. Such is my life though. It's all about appreciating those in between times of recovery. And working on techniques, etc to reduce the severity and frequency of the episodes.

Yesterday one thing that helped was I did some baking. I had volunteered to make something to sell at our choir concerts this weekend so I kinda had to do it. It was really a good thing to do yesterday. Baking, for me, can be therapeutic. I enjoy it, I usually take part in the raw tastings (YUMMY but yeah, I do risks the whole salmonella thing), and it's something I did, with family or friends, growing up that makes it a kind of comfort activity. It helped that I wasn't pressed for time yesterday. TK even helped me add ingredients to the mixer. Yesterday, I kinda needed that messy beater all to myself though, once he was off playing and I could enjoy it without him asking me why I was eating it all.

I have to point out in the above picture, dark spot in bottom left corner is Buddy the cat. See below for better view. :)

And of course I had to get a picture of just him. Crazy hypnotizing eyes, no? That wound above his right eye is looking so much better from when we got him, I think you can hardly tell now.

Things have been going much better with Buddy now. My boys love to play with him, feed him, give him treats, pet him, talk to him, say goodbye to him when we leave the house, and say goodnight to him when they're going to bed. He feels part of the family now. We've been keeping him in the laundry room at night for the past week-ish due to some relapsing of the ummm... litter box situation. Improving and will probably stop the nighttime solitary soon, whenever I feel ready to risk it again. Not this weekend. This weekend is way to busy and hectic.

I'm slightly terrified of this weekend. It's going to be fine, it's going to be good, but it's risky for my ability to not have a relapse on my episode and ruin the weekend. My mother-in-law is likely coming into town today, I say likely because she's flying stand-by (her husband is a pilot, pretty cool, no?) and flights were looking questionable. Having her in town will be good, and the kids adore her, but I still don't like getting depressed in front of anyone besides Nasser. And there is the issue of me blogging right now instead of getting the futon bed ready and finding clean towels. It'll get done, maybe a bit later, but I'm trying not to worry about that. But then this weekend is my choir concerts. I have one tonight and one Sunday afternoon. So that's a huge chunk out of the weekend right there. And, again, here I am blogging instead of reviewing the spots in my music where I feel shaky. Sigh, and yet I can't tear myself away from the blog because it feels so therapeutic today. And I need that too, perhaps more importantly.

After a read-through of the above, I will finally take a shower so we can get RG from the bus stop and get going on all the stuff I need to get done. Let's do this weekend.

so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain

Wednesday, 03/09/16, 1:27pm

Things are improving, although I still don't feel quite back to normal/recovery/better/whatever. Run with friends this morning helped, hanging out with my sister a bunch this morning helped, choir last night actually helped too. Sleep helped. Figuring out some needed childcare this week for parent/teacher conference and therapy appointment helped.

I hate having depressive episodes. They suck. I think it's probably hard for anyone to understand who hasn't gone through it (or similar) or watched someone else go through it. I certainly didn't understand much about depression prior to its manifestation in me. During an episode, everything feels like the end of the world, you feel totally incapable at handling the troubles in your life, every trouble seems bigger and worse, and even when you think you're on the mend, little things trigger it back again.

I still feel weak, emotionally, and I still feel on edge. Like anything could push me down the hole again.

But I'm trying to take care of myself. Trying to do things that will prevent that relapse, and trying to use the support I have available.

I don't feel up to blogging more right now, but maybe more later. Thank you to those out there who've been worried since I shared about my episode yesterday.

and fade out again and fade out

Tuesday, 03/08/16, 3:43pm

I'm listening to Radiohead right now. Perfect depressed music for me.

We're going on about 30 hours of an episode. I thought I'd be out of it by now. This isn't normal for me.

A few times I've considered going in to the hospital, but I don't want to get to that point. I don't want to go and talk in group therapy, I don't want a psychiatrist I don't know to tell me that I should try new meds, I don't want to give up my personal belongings and share a room with someone I don't know. And be expected to talk. Because they would surely not release me until I open up and share and I don't want to do that.

And yet here I am blogging.

Nasser is coming home early for the second day in a row. Because I suck at life. Because I can't get through this alone and when I'm this bad, I can only really open up to him. Because I need help. Because I am not strong enough? That's how it feels, but I can't say that because that destroys me.

I got an appointment with my therapist for this Thursday. I'm hoping that will help.

I can need to get through this.

don't let yourself go 'cause everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes

Tuesday, 03/08/16, 10:09am

I feel so disappointed by the world, my life. Things don't turn out the way you expect, do they? People don't always act out of love and concern for others. Usually people act out of selfishness really, right? I do it to. We all do. We have to do what's best for us.

And yet, I still hope for things. I hope that people I share with will read my blog. I hope for people in my life to care about how I'm doing, and don't get me wrong, many of them do. Some don't show it beyond places like facebook, and many don't even show it there.

Why can't everyone be caring and empathetic towards each other?

Lately I've been wondering about my blog. Wondering if it's worth sharing with others. Wondering if it's worth sharing when I feel rejection from many. I guess I'm really needy. I want others to validate what I feel and what I share, but I also recognize that I discuss touchy, uncomfortable subjects and likely most people who do read it don't want to also talk about it.

I sound so unappreciative of the good people in my life. Partially it's the perfectionism. When I don't achieve what I want and expect to achieve, it's hard to find any good. Usually achieving, even when falling a little short of the goal, can and usually is still an accomplishment. It's hard for me to find and appreciate the accomplishments and the good in my life, when I still feel like I'm falling short in so many places.

I probably sound like I'm rambling. I haven't been doing great since yesterday. A big episode hit and it hasn't let up much. I've been having mini anxiety/panic attacks, crying, trying to breathe, and totally not succeeding at being the mom I want to be.

Today I don't have the luxury of giving in to the depression, although I have some time before I need to totally pull it together. I have to hide it at the bus stop this afternoon. I have to hide it when I take the kids to their dentist appointments. I have to manage to take the kids to their dentist appointments. I have choir tonight, and really I should be practicing my music before going.

This week is incredibly stressful for choir since we have concerts this coming Friday and Sunday. I think the music is really amazing and I really want to participate. I can't let the depression take over and make me miss rehearsals this week, because they are truly mandatory for the concerts. I backed away on some of the stress by skipping book club this week and a 5k race this weekend. But I still feel terrified by needing to be normal this week. Unfortunately for me, it's when I need to not have an episode, that I usually get an episode.

I've got to get through this. I need to.

whisper words of wisdom

Sunday, 03/06/16, 12:51pm

I recently blogged about the seriousness of my depression and how I hadn't really thought about whether or not I'm a "severe" case, etc. Well I think I am starting to figure it out.

I'm pretty sure I've been diagnosed in the past, not sure what I am now, with therapists (for billing purposes to insurance) as having "major depressive disorder". I once questioned whether or not it'd be considered "major" or "minor", more wondered out of curiosity, but didn't get much understanding from the therapist at the time (this was my very first therapist who I never really clicked with. To be fair, this was also before I started seeing a psychiatrist to truly manage my medication).

I think I understand it better now. I would agree with the diagnosis. Major. Depressive. Disorder. Doesn't that sound daunting? (Some of that is the stigma talking, please notice it, dear readers).

I found some statistics on the NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) website which helped all this make a lot more sense. I've heard difference statistics in different places, but these I would believe are close to accurate. They say: "If you have a mental health condition, you're not alone. 1 in 5 American adults experience some form of mental illness in any given year. And across the population, 1 in every 20 adults is living with a serious mental health condition such as schizophrenia, bipolar disorder or long-term recurring major depression." (source)

I've always put myself in this category of 1 in 4 or 1 in 5 people are like me, but that's only in a given year. Many of those people have what I would call "acute mental illness". That's not what I have. I think I have long-term recurring major depression which manifested less than 10 years ago, and maybe I just had an acute episode of depression in my pre-teen/teenage years. (Yeah, I'm self-diagnosing here).

As I sort through social and news media portrayals of mental illness, I've been frustrated with various terms, words like "fight" and "overcome". We talk about "being in recovery", and I've mentioned before that I don't understand what this means. This makes sense if we're talking about someone with postpartum depression. This would be in a case where perhaps someone could take medication for a "short" (I would call that less than 2-3 years), most importantly, temporary, length of time. Now I'm not saying that postpartum depression is less severe, but I'm focusing on the point of it being temporary (for many cases at least). This is why we can talk about "being in recovery" with these cases. 

I can't talk about my illness as "overcoming" unless it's overcoming an episode. I can't talk about "being in recovery" because it's continually proven to me that episodes do occur on a somewhat regular basis. To those that don't understand about chronic mental illness, in which the symptoms do continually recur, it may sound like I am "giving up". Or I have a negative attitude about my mental illness and therefore it keeps happening. What I do know is that when I've gone a longer stretch without an episode, I fall harder when it does hit. I say things to myself like "I've been doing so well lately. How did I screw it up so bad?" It feels like a much bigger letdown because when I go a long stretch, I think I continually allow myself to hope and tell myself that I'm doing "better". But maybe if I accept that I have this disease, it's almost easier to get through a tough episode/evening/day/week. Recently, when I was "getting my period", I never actually fell into a full episode, even though I had a rough patch for a few days. I made it through without getting too too horribly into the hole. (Although perhaps to my readers, it sounded worse than that).

While I appreciate seeing stories in the media about mental illness, I think we could do a better job about reporting on chronic mental illness. Many people live with mental illness most or all of their lives. And I think our discussions do a disservice to those chronic mental conditions which cannot be "cured" (at least with the current treatment methods) and these people never are "in recovery" to the extent that widespread belief is about "recovery". At least when I hear the word "recovery", I think it's considered to be long-term.

I don't get that kind of recovery.

I don't blog about this today to be a downer. But honestly, to me I'm being realistic. And I think this post is a form of acceptance for me. I accept that I suffer from long-term recurring major depression. I accept that my disease is chronic and that I will forever require treatment.

It isn't weak to accept mental illness in one's self. I find it empowering, actually. I can name the condition that I have and somehow that allows me to be less afraid of it. Understanding the treatment options and seeing the benefits in myself, I also understand that having a mental illness is not the end of the world. Sometimes it feels that way, but accepting the condition helps me to remember that with this condition comes periods of "recovery" we could call them. Plenty of times in my life where I'm not fallen down the hole.

And that's something to be grateful for.

Just to be clear, today is a good day.

On a happy note, I am going to attempt an easy workout next. Maybe just some spinning on the stationary bike while I watch a show, or some walking around the neighborhood, or maybe some yoga, or maybe some combination of the above. I hope the ski injuries aren't bothered by it. But again, I totally accept that the ski fall was my fault, and my risky skiing. I learned some important lessons about speed on the ski slope- I'm lucky I didn't hit anyone on the slopes when I fell because then I would have caused injury to someone else, and I'm lucky I didn't get more seriously injured. Pretty sure there's nothing long-term in my injuries, but I'm being careful, I've found that ice helps the pains, and I'm taking it easy in the recovery.

Buddy the cat enjoyed hanging out with me while I iced this morning.

slow down, you move too fast

Saturday, 03/05/16, 8:44am

I am grumpy today. I wish I wasn't.

We actually just had a wonderful couple of days. Thursday afternoon, I dropped the boys off with my parents, and Nasser and I headed up to Breckenridge with some of his co-workers. Yesterday was the annual work ski day for Nasser which I was finally joining for the first time. It was really great.

But.

Late morning yesterday, after several fast, adrenaline pumping runs, I wanted to get a little faster. And I did. But at 45mph, I got outta control and took a fall. I'm really lucky, all things considered, that I didn't get seriously injured. And of course, this was in a wide open area with no trees. My skis popped off pretty quickly but then I slid on the left side of my body until coming to a stop.

My leg has a nasty bruise on the underside, above my knee, but the painful area is a bit larger even than the bruise. Sitting with that leg resting on a chair hurts. My left arm is also not feeling good. It hurts to fully straighten the elbow, and my upper arm feels like it took a strong beating on the fall.

I don't think there's anything really serious wrong, but I'm going to be paying a lot of attention to the elbow and maybe going in to get it x-rayed this week, if needed. This morning I was all excited to have planned a run with some fellow runner friends in the area, but I had to back out because of the pain.

I'm grumpy because I didn't run. I'm grumpy because of the pain. I'm grumpy that I was so stupid to have pushed the speed yesterday. I'm grumpy that I can't sleep on either side. I'm grumpy that I'm grumpy.

I may be paranoid, but not an android

Wednesday, 03/02/16, 7:41am

Sometimes it can be hard to blog again after sharing with additional people. After Monday's post I decided to send an email to people I've already shared with as well as some new ones, and I was quite surprised after adding names to the bcc list to see how many there were. And then, of course, I got overwhelmed with the stats of my blog. Watching the pageviews go up can be super exciting yet also quite daunting. I've received a number of support emails since although I haven't felt comfortable responding to all of them yet. Yeah that's right, despite how brutally honest I get in my blog, I don't feel comfortable responding to emails always. But that's me.

I think I've had a little of what Brené Brown calls a "vulnerability hangover". It really hasn't been too bad, but I definitely felt too scared to blog yesterday.

Vulnerability hangovers can happen after a long talk with a friend about depression, after opening up to someone new, after an emotionally heavy therapy or psychiatrist appointment. At least that's how it happens with me. I question whether I should have talked about certain things, I wonder if people are judging me, and I also feel excited that I dared greatly. It tends to be a bit of a rollercoaster. The vulnerability hangover is probably the main reason therapy can be so hard and not always feel like it's helping. The first appointment (or more) with a new therapist comes with heavy vulnerability hangovers. It is such an emotional toll to spill out your story to someone new, especially someone you don't really know yet and you're not even sure you want to know. Therapy is one of those things where it often gets worse before it gets better. I think a big reason people who "don't like" therapy (beyond the stigma people have) don't benefit because they never get past that first appointment or first few appointments. I once went just one time to a new therapist. I was in the process of "trying out" new therapists, and saw someone who was on my insurance list but I really didn't know more about her. The experience was not super pleasant. I had the emotional rollercoaster of going through my story with someone new, but then I additionally felt a lot of judgement from her on certain things. I think the good therapists try to limit any judgement or at least, don't let it show.

Let's talk about stigma again though. I never back away from talking about it. Because we need to. The stigma around mental illness makes it difficult for people to get support because it becomes this thing that we are just completely unable to talk about. Even though I get brutally honest in my blog, it doesn't mean that I talk about depression openly and honestly with people in my life. I talk about it with some people sometimes. And it's usually an uncomfortable conversation, we get shifty eyed, and we wait and hope for the conversation to end. That's not always true, but that tends to be how it's talked about in person. And seriously, what. the. hell. Mental illness is disease of the brain, which as researchers are increasingly learning, can strongly be related to biological processes in the brain or the weakness/strength of certain neurological pathways. The most recent evidence in schizophrenia research suggest that a specific gene is contributing to excessive "synaptic pruning," which is the elimination of connections between neurons.

Despite all this, the stigma equates mental illness to psychological weakness. Doesn't that suck? So many people suffer from mental illness, about 1 in 5 in any given year according to the Mayo Clinic. And yet, all these people are "weak"???? Why can't we treat mental illness like we do with any illness? Why do we have to be embarrassed to be on anti-depressants, anxiety medication, or anti-psychotics? Why, when someone could really benefit from one of these medications, do they refuse treatment? It would be considered abnormal to refuse treatment for a thyroid condition, for diabetes, for stage 1 cancer. And yet, we do for mental illness.

Now granted, I've come a long way in fighting my own stigmas. I am on medications and no longer feel the need to wean myself from them, although I used to feel that way. I go to therapy, although I still look for ways to spread my appointments out more because I think I shouldn't need to go as often or I feel guilty about the cost. I still have to overcome the stigma a little to share these things about myself. But I know others who have never had professional treatment. Maybe they can manage it well enough on their own, and some people can depending on the severity, but I hope these people aren't refusing treatment because of the stigma. And if so, I hope I can help dispel the fears a little. Because treatment is worth it. Taking the edge off the illness with medication, taking yourself out of the cloud is worth it. Talking through coping mechanisms with a therapist and practicing ways to strengthen the positive neurological pathways is worth it.

I hope to someday live in a world where mental illness is simply treated as it comes up. I hope to someday live in a world where we have accessibility to better treatments with fewer side effects. I hope to someday live in a world where we can talk about mental illness as a society, focusing on making things better for those with mental illness as well as for those caring for loved ones with mental illness. This isn't something we can hide under the carpet anymore.