I've had a few things on my mind, so please excuse me if I ramble. To start off, I wanted to reiterate my reason for this blog - or at least one of the reasons. I want to help erase the negative stigma associated with mental illness. Any kind of mental illness, but because my experience is with depression and anxiety, that is where most of my subject matter lies. The biggest way I know to do this is to make the very personal, public.
If this is your first time reading my blog, I have dealt with depression for over 23 years. I almost typed "suffered from depression", but I am not a victim. I won't allow this to define me. It's part of me, but it's not me. I have days where I am sad, I have days where I am happy, I have days in which I can't get out of bed for lack of energy due to my depression and yes, I have days that I want to die. Most of the time, I say that I don't want to exist. I use these terms because the fact is, I don't want to die, I just don't want to be a part of the world outside my bedroom. But, yes, I also have days where I feel that I want to end my life. The days are not often and I never act on them, but they are there. Is this normal? NO!! But it is there and it is real and I will not be ashamed of it. Are you uncomfortable? Well get over it, because it's real. It's part of many people's lives and it's not going to get better if you ignore it because it makes you uncomfortable. (read my previous post for a little more in this realm)
Ok, so continuing in the vein of making the personal public, a friend recently asked me a question. Well let me rephrase that. She started to ask a question, stopped herself, and then would only ask it when I dragged it out of her. She prefaced the question with, "Remember, I opened my mouth before I thought about what I was asking." Her question? Do you think about what it might be like if Jon dies? Yes, yes I do. This is another area in which people are afraid to ask questions, or talk or spend any amount of time. My husband has cancer. The first two days after he was diagnosed I spent feeling as if he were already dead. Our lives changed forever. They will never be the same, regardless of how long Jon lives, or how long I live for that matter.
Because I try not to think about it, or don't have time, or really just can't for my own mental health, I don't think about it a lot. But I have thought about where we would live, how I would be a single mom, what his funeral would be like, among many other things. I hate every minute of thinking about losing the person I love most in this world, but there is part of me that has to. I have to be prepared for that if it happens. So chalk that up to one more thing that I am not unwilling to talk about.
At the same time that there are horrible things that come with a cancer diagnosis (chemo, medical bills, the aforementioned sad thoughts), cancer has actually done a lot for our family in a good way. Jon and I are closer and talk more than we ever have. We have both gotten reacquainted with God and we have started going to church again. We are so much more aware of every moment we get to spend together and how precious they all are. Despite the cliche sound of it, we are living fuller lives now. We're not perfect, and yes there's always more we can do, but as of now, cancer has gotten us out of the complacent lives we were living.
This past Saturday, we went to the funeral of a good friend's brother. One of the things Adam (our friend) said after his brother died was for everyone to grab those they love because life can change in a heartbeat. This is the same lesson we learned in April, and one that broke our hearts to see others we care about learn. The funeral was one of the most touching I have been to and I haven't been that affected by someone's death since Henry and Natalie died. I didn't know Nick, I had only met him once, but my heart broke for his family This is also a family that has gone out of their way to make us feel supported and loved since Jon's diagnosis. So I think a big part of my emotional reaction was not wanting people I care about to have the "our lives will never be the same" experience.
That night, after the funeral, Jon and I were lying in bed and he said "That could have been my funeral today." (Nick and Jon were the same age) I told him I thought the same thing. We then, very calmly, proceeded to talk about his wishes for his funeral. There weren't any tears, nothing sad, just a practical conversation. For those of you that saw the video I made, this is the strength I talked about that could only come from God.
I can only credit God with any strength I have had in dealing with Jon's diagnosis, as well as my depression. There is something he has planned for me, I just have yet to figure out what it is. Yet again, I am finding myself without direction in terms of my career. My teaching credentials have been rendered useless by forces beyond my control, and I am left to wonder, again, what I want to be when I grow up. I feel like I have a million puzzle pieces in front of me, but have no idea what the picture is supposed to look like. It's not even really what I want to be, but what I'm supposed to be. It's on the tip of my brain and hopefully I'll figure it out soon. But I know it has to be there, because I'm still here.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Monday, August 11, 2014
Why are you surprised?
A little over a month ago I learned of the death of someone I once considered one of my best friends. We dated in high school, but even after we broke up we remained friends. I used to talk to him often. Then, like so many friendships, we drifted apart and spoke less and less. I hadn't spoken to him in probably 5 years when I learned that he took his life. We had talked about depression and I knew he, too, suffered from it. It was actually Matt that made me realize so long ago that the way I was feeling was not normal. He told me I was sad all the time, and he gave me his copy of "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day." I think I had a normal reaction in wishing that I had kept in touch with him. Not because I think I could have saved him, but maybe to have a little more to hold to. Rest in peace, Matty. I love you and I'll see you again someday.
Today, the U.S. was rocked by the news of Robin Williams' passing. So many people on Facebook expressed shock. I don't think people that knew or heard he dealt with depression were necessarily surprised, but I think, mostly, they were surprised that he is dead. He had everything, right? He was loved by so many, he was married, he was wealthy, he was hilarious. See, when we hear someone suffers from depression, we don't think death. When we hear cancer, that's where our minds go. If you heard someone had cancer but weren't going to do anything about it, you'd think, "Well, you're going to die!" But if you heard someone was dealing with depression and wasn't getting help, you wouldn't think the same.
This is where the stigma of depression comes in. No one thinks it's that serious. No one thinks there's a time limit. Now, I realize that comparing depression to cancer is comparing apples to oranges. Believe me, no one knows that better than me right now. But I think about the things I have heard in my 23 years with this disease and it makes me angry. To some, I was trying to get attention. (In fact, there are those who think I still am) To others, I was no longer fun to be around...so they stopped being around me. To yet others, I was/am crazy. In all of these reactions, I am someone to be avoided. I'm annoying, I'm selfish, I'm boring, I'm nuts..I'm...I'm...
So give those answers to someone who is not just sad, but deeply sad. Someone who is terrified, someone who feels alone. Someone whose brain is telling them they are worthless, and all the people around them are proving them right. Someone whose mind is consumed with dark thoughts, self-inflicting thoughts and those thoughts provoke them just as much as their audience does. Now - why are you surprised?
You're surprised because you didn't know it was that bad. You're surprised because they were always smiling. You're surprised because you thought they had others to help them. You're surprised because you didn't think they were serious. You're surprised because they didn't tell anyone. You're surprised...You're surprised...You're surprised.
It's time for people to stop being surprised. It's time to stop being passive. It's time to stop ignoring your gut instinct. Time to stop assuming there are others. And for God's sake - stop playing the "they're trying to get attention, they're just being dramatic, I had no idea..." card! This is a real thing!! This happens!! And the fact that it keeps happening means that there are still people out there that don't understand that. Are we going to be able to save everyone? No, of course not. But it shouldn't be because we didn't do everything we could.
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
You won't understand unless you've been there...
Since my last post, my world has been turned upside down. That sounds like hyperbole, but it's really not. In my head I am constantly thinking of reasons for why certain things happen and, in this case, I can think of many. I can already tell you the positive things that have changed in my life because of two life-changing events.
The first event happened on April 21st. After about a month of blood tests, X-RAYs and a bone marrow biopsy, my husband was diagnosed with multiple myeloma. This is a type of cancer in which the bone marrow produces "bad" cells that affect the growth of "good" cells. Yes, it's more complicated than that, but that's the gist. On that day, I literally (and yes, I mean literally) kept waiting to wake up. Most people with this illness are over 60. The most serious thing Jon had ever had before this was an ingrown toenail. He was immediately started on a regimen of drugs. Doctor's appointments were made, lab appointments were made and suddenly our world revolved around cancer.
Remember the "shit hitting the fan" post? Well that was April 22nd. I had a breakdown that left me unable to breathe, and unable to see anything but pain in my future. I kept thinking "What a tragedy." We are a couple who knows what they have is special. We are not perfect, but at the end of the day I am truly in love with him, and he with me. I spent 5 years waiting for him to see what I already knew was there. And now after 5 years of marriage that's being taken away? It's not fair. Why us? <enter further questions and complaints here>
The next day was the first day of a new life. We accepted a "new normal". We were originally going to keep it somewhat quiet, but then we realized how many people it affected in one way or another. After telling everyone, it was clear that the benefit of telling them was not for them, but for us. The outpouring of support was overwhelming. We knew we were loved, but now we feel surrounded by it. There is a lot more to this story, but I have a site on Caring Bridge and chances are if you know us, you've seen it.
The reason I titled the blog the way I did is because this is a phrase I often hear people say when going through something. I also used to use this phrase, as though it excused any crazy I was feeling because, well, people just didn't understand. But I stopped using it a long time ago for two reasons. The first is that, well, duh. Of course I don't completely understand because I'm not you and you're not me. Everyone is different. Even my husband and I are different and our ways of dealing with this are different. So of course I don't completely understand. Then comes the second reason: every time someone has said this to me, I have felt that there was nothing more I could do for them. They don't feel I understand, therefore I couldn't possibly help. But this is so untrue, and I have never felt that more than in the last 2 months.
The second thing that happened was that I lost my job. As much as I could sit and contemplate why this happened or feel inadequate about my skills at a teacher, the truth is I will probably never know the reason. Maybe I really wasn't that good. Or maybe it was something else, but it really doesn't matter. I can't change it whether I understand it or not. The one thing the principal did do for us was ensure a guaranteed sub position for me so that I am guaranteed pay as well as benefits until the end of January. He didn't have to do that and I am so grateful he did.
Many people have mentioned a benefit and we had, at first, not thought we would have one. Now that I have lost my job and will be losing insurance at the end of January, that will probably change. We will probably try to plan one this year yet to hopefully raise money so we can afford to go on COBRA and not have to change insurance.
Anyway, as far as I am concerned, I have kept the depression mostly at bay. I think this has been good for me in that I now have to take care of Jonathan. He always took care of me and I think I allowed that to make me complacent and not stay on top of how I was feeling. I will admit that when things get the best of me, it comes out in anger. I have had a lot of crabby days where everything irritates me or I have a very short temper. I am hoping to find an outlet for that now that I am no longer working.
I mentioned in the beginning of this post that, despite the devastation that came with Jonathan's diagnosis, good things had happened. Here's a list:
-I have reconciled with God. I am praying again and talking to Him. After everything that happened last summer at the church, I included God in my anger and bitterness toward the church without realizing it. I have never needed Him more. On April 22nd when I was in the midst of hyperventilating and sobbing, I begged God to show me that He was there. I begged for the "sign" that people beg for in the movies...and I got it. The next morning and external peace surrounded me. I can't really explain it but I knew, no matter the outcome, that I would be okay, and that things would be okay.
- A forgiveness that I didn't think I was capable of occurred. I attribute this to God as well. He knew that I needed that in order for my family to get what they need.
- What we needed was God and church and community. We have felt that and experienced that in a way that is inexplicable. I am a visual person, and the only way I can try to explain it is picturing all the people we love, plus people they love and then people that those people love standing around us in a circle with their arms clasped and exuding light toward us as we stand in the middle. What an energy it is. That energy doesn't live here on Earth.
- I have realized that I need to stop being complacent. As much as I like teaching, I never enjoyed it as much as I enjoy performing. Jon and I have started writing again. I plan to start gigging again. We are also going to travel as much as possible. We are no longer going to wait for that better day. Life was already good, it's up to us to make it even better.
Lastly, I now firmly believe there is no coincidence. I may have gotten let go from my job, but it was because of that job that we found Jon's cancer. It was because I didn't take the job and move to Arizona last year that I got this job. A few weeks ago Jon went into kidney failure. He woke up in the middle of the night with unbearable pain and we took him to the ER. He spent the next 6 days in the hospital while they tried to get his kidney working again. The one thing they could never explain was his pain. Despite being in kidney failure, nothing that was happening should have caused pain. Yet it was the pain that took us to the ER.
God is with us, every day, every minute, every second; and we are so grateful for it.
The first event happened on April 21st. After about a month of blood tests, X-RAYs and a bone marrow biopsy, my husband was diagnosed with multiple myeloma. This is a type of cancer in which the bone marrow produces "bad" cells that affect the growth of "good" cells. Yes, it's more complicated than that, but that's the gist. On that day, I literally (and yes, I mean literally) kept waiting to wake up. Most people with this illness are over 60. The most serious thing Jon had ever had before this was an ingrown toenail. He was immediately started on a regimen of drugs. Doctor's appointments were made, lab appointments were made and suddenly our world revolved around cancer.
Remember the "shit hitting the fan" post? Well that was April 22nd. I had a breakdown that left me unable to breathe, and unable to see anything but pain in my future. I kept thinking "What a tragedy." We are a couple who knows what they have is special. We are not perfect, but at the end of the day I am truly in love with him, and he with me. I spent 5 years waiting for him to see what I already knew was there. And now after 5 years of marriage that's being taken away? It's not fair. Why us? <enter further questions and complaints here>
The next day was the first day of a new life. We accepted a "new normal". We were originally going to keep it somewhat quiet, but then we realized how many people it affected in one way or another. After telling everyone, it was clear that the benefit of telling them was not for them, but for us. The outpouring of support was overwhelming. We knew we were loved, but now we feel surrounded by it. There is a lot more to this story, but I have a site on Caring Bridge and chances are if you know us, you've seen it.
The reason I titled the blog the way I did is because this is a phrase I often hear people say when going through something. I also used to use this phrase, as though it excused any crazy I was feeling because, well, people just didn't understand. But I stopped using it a long time ago for two reasons. The first is that, well, duh. Of course I don't completely understand because I'm not you and you're not me. Everyone is different. Even my husband and I are different and our ways of dealing with this are different. So of course I don't completely understand. Then comes the second reason: every time someone has said this to me, I have felt that there was nothing more I could do for them. They don't feel I understand, therefore I couldn't possibly help. But this is so untrue, and I have never felt that more than in the last 2 months.
The second thing that happened was that I lost my job. As much as I could sit and contemplate why this happened or feel inadequate about my skills at a teacher, the truth is I will probably never know the reason. Maybe I really wasn't that good. Or maybe it was something else, but it really doesn't matter. I can't change it whether I understand it or not. The one thing the principal did do for us was ensure a guaranteed sub position for me so that I am guaranteed pay as well as benefits until the end of January. He didn't have to do that and I am so grateful he did.
Many people have mentioned a benefit and we had, at first, not thought we would have one. Now that I have lost my job and will be losing insurance at the end of January, that will probably change. We will probably try to plan one this year yet to hopefully raise money so we can afford to go on COBRA and not have to change insurance.
Anyway, as far as I am concerned, I have kept the depression mostly at bay. I think this has been good for me in that I now have to take care of Jonathan. He always took care of me and I think I allowed that to make me complacent and not stay on top of how I was feeling. I will admit that when things get the best of me, it comes out in anger. I have had a lot of crabby days where everything irritates me or I have a very short temper. I am hoping to find an outlet for that now that I am no longer working.
I mentioned in the beginning of this post that, despite the devastation that came with Jonathan's diagnosis, good things had happened. Here's a list:
-I have reconciled with God. I am praying again and talking to Him. After everything that happened last summer at the church, I included God in my anger and bitterness toward the church without realizing it. I have never needed Him more. On April 22nd when I was in the midst of hyperventilating and sobbing, I begged God to show me that He was there. I begged for the "sign" that people beg for in the movies...and I got it. The next morning and external peace surrounded me. I can't really explain it but I knew, no matter the outcome, that I would be okay, and that things would be okay.
- A forgiveness that I didn't think I was capable of occurred. I attribute this to God as well. He knew that I needed that in order for my family to get what they need.
- What we needed was God and church and community. We have felt that and experienced that in a way that is inexplicable. I am a visual person, and the only way I can try to explain it is picturing all the people we love, plus people they love and then people that those people love standing around us in a circle with their arms clasped and exuding light toward us as we stand in the middle. What an energy it is. That energy doesn't live here on Earth.
- I have realized that I need to stop being complacent. As much as I like teaching, I never enjoyed it as much as I enjoy performing. Jon and I have started writing again. I plan to start gigging again. We are also going to travel as much as possible. We are no longer going to wait for that better day. Life was already good, it's up to us to make it even better.
Lastly, I now firmly believe there is no coincidence. I may have gotten let go from my job, but it was because of that job that we found Jon's cancer. It was because I didn't take the job and move to Arizona last year that I got this job. A few weeks ago Jon went into kidney failure. He woke up in the middle of the night with unbearable pain and we took him to the ER. He spent the next 6 days in the hospital while they tried to get his kidney working again. The one thing they could never explain was his pain. Despite being in kidney failure, nothing that was happening should have caused pain. Yet it was the pain that took us to the ER.
God is with us, every day, every minute, every second; and we are so grateful for it.
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Who are you today?
Let me start this blog by saying that I am so grateful for having some sun the last two days!!! Looking forward to more tomorrow.
I went to my doctor the other day for the first time since I said goodbye to him last summer thinking I was moving to Arizona. I kept meaning to make an appointment and kept forgetting and had plenty of refills so I kept putting it off. Let me tell you a little about this man. He is fantastic!! He has known me, and been my doctor, for about 22 years. I met him when I was in the hospital at the age of 16 and felt he was a better fit than the doctor I had been seeing. I trust him more than I trust most people because he knows everything I've been through. Anyway, he has this way of just looking at me and saying "How ya doin'?" that makes me suddenly be able to verbalize how I'm doing.
I wouldn't say that I've been exactly depressed lately, but I've been blah. I've been unmotivated. I've been that color of eggshell that they paint every room of an apartment. It's not ugly. It doesn't clash with anything. It's just there. That's me. So he decided to up one of my meds and see if that gives me the push I need. I also recounted the story of how we ended up not moving to Arizona, which, of course, made me a little sad. I have been daydreaming and craving and yearning for a warm place in the sun. I even will sit and search for airline tickets for various warm places...I can't afford them of course, but a girl can dream.
Now that the sun is out, I have realized yet another thing about myself that is affected by days of gray and cold: my patience. The last two days with my son have been wonderful. I have had fun with him and even when he was naughty, I didn't flip out or get really angry. We have had good talks about why something was wrong and what should be done about it, rather than just sending him into a time-out and yelling at him. The fact that I have realized this makes me glad for the last 2 days, but makes me sad for him. He loves me so much. He wants to be around me all the time. Yet, I know I'm not as good to him as I should be. I know that my moods affect him too and that makes me feel terrible. I would walk in front of a bus for this kid, and yet I can't get it together enough to pause before acting or speaking.
I also am terribly moody with the constant change in weather. I don't just mean in days, I mean in one day. For example, my husband and I went to a funeral in Milwaukee. Despite the somber reason for the drive, it was a nice drive there and back with just the two of us. In fact, my husband enjoyed it so much that his mood changed a little when we picked up our son. That sent me on a downward spiral for the rest of the night. As the night got darker, so did my mood. And now I feel sad and anxious, which is a horrible combination. I also tend to not want to talk or be talked to...sorry, honey. Hopefully sleep will help.
My anxiety has been on the rise because I know there are things that I need to be doing to lead a better life overall, but my life is so unorganized that I just don't know where to start. I've been planning to get back to our budget for months, and I even re-started it last week, but it continues to lie on the kitchen table unfinished. I need to get back on the eating-well wagon. I need to write my music history unit. I need to work out. And yet, all I seem to have energy for is my couch.
I feel like this entry has been more of a rant than anything tonight, so I will try to leave this on a lighter note. The other night I had a long talk with a friend I hadn't spoken to in a while. His wife is mentally ill (not the funny part) and is much worse off than I. I was talking to him about my troubles this time of year with not wanting/being able to go to work. Having so little energy or feeling so poorly that I just can't fathom going to work, but, of course, can't call in and tell them exactly what's wrong. (Thank God for online sub requests)
So I was discussing with him different ways which I could call work and tell them I'm not coming in in a humorous way. Please note that this is my way of dealing with what is sometime debilitating, so please don't take me seriously.
"Hi, I can't come into work today because I'm sad."
"Hi, I can't come to work today because I"m not allowed around sharp objects."
"Hi, the little voices told me I can't come in today."
"Hi, I can't come to work today because I'm insane, but will you let me be alone with children tomorrow?"
“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.”
–Eleanor Roosevelt
I went to my doctor the other day for the first time since I said goodbye to him last summer thinking I was moving to Arizona. I kept meaning to make an appointment and kept forgetting and had plenty of refills so I kept putting it off. Let me tell you a little about this man. He is fantastic!! He has known me, and been my doctor, for about 22 years. I met him when I was in the hospital at the age of 16 and felt he was a better fit than the doctor I had been seeing. I trust him more than I trust most people because he knows everything I've been through. Anyway, he has this way of just looking at me and saying "How ya doin'?" that makes me suddenly be able to verbalize how I'm doing.
I wouldn't say that I've been exactly depressed lately, but I've been blah. I've been unmotivated. I've been that color of eggshell that they paint every room of an apartment. It's not ugly. It doesn't clash with anything. It's just there. That's me. So he decided to up one of my meds and see if that gives me the push I need. I also recounted the story of how we ended up not moving to Arizona, which, of course, made me a little sad. I have been daydreaming and craving and yearning for a warm place in the sun. I even will sit and search for airline tickets for various warm places...I can't afford them of course, but a girl can dream.
Now that the sun is out, I have realized yet another thing about myself that is affected by days of gray and cold: my patience. The last two days with my son have been wonderful. I have had fun with him and even when he was naughty, I didn't flip out or get really angry. We have had good talks about why something was wrong and what should be done about it, rather than just sending him into a time-out and yelling at him. The fact that I have realized this makes me glad for the last 2 days, but makes me sad for him. He loves me so much. He wants to be around me all the time. Yet, I know I'm not as good to him as I should be. I know that my moods affect him too and that makes me feel terrible. I would walk in front of a bus for this kid, and yet I can't get it together enough to pause before acting or speaking.
I also am terribly moody with the constant change in weather. I don't just mean in days, I mean in one day. For example, my husband and I went to a funeral in Milwaukee. Despite the somber reason for the drive, it was a nice drive there and back with just the two of us. In fact, my husband enjoyed it so much that his mood changed a little when we picked up our son. That sent me on a downward spiral for the rest of the night. As the night got darker, so did my mood. And now I feel sad and anxious, which is a horrible combination. I also tend to not want to talk or be talked to...sorry, honey. Hopefully sleep will help.
My anxiety has been on the rise because I know there are things that I need to be doing to lead a better life overall, but my life is so unorganized that I just don't know where to start. I've been planning to get back to our budget for months, and I even re-started it last week, but it continues to lie on the kitchen table unfinished. I need to get back on the eating-well wagon. I need to write my music history unit. I need to work out. And yet, all I seem to have energy for is my couch.
I feel like this entry has been more of a rant than anything tonight, so I will try to leave this on a lighter note. The other night I had a long talk with a friend I hadn't spoken to in a while. His wife is mentally ill (not the funny part) and is much worse off than I. I was talking to him about my troubles this time of year with not wanting/being able to go to work. Having so little energy or feeling so poorly that I just can't fathom going to work, but, of course, can't call in and tell them exactly what's wrong. (Thank God for online sub requests)
So I was discussing with him different ways which I could call work and tell them I'm not coming in in a humorous way. Please note that this is my way of dealing with what is sometime debilitating, so please don't take me seriously.
"Hi, I can't come into work today because I'm sad."
"Hi, I can't come to work today because I"m not allowed around sharp objects."
"Hi, the little voices told me I can't come in today."
"Hi, I can't come to work today because I'm insane, but will you let me be alone with children tomorrow?"
“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.”
–Eleanor Roosevelt
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Food
It is amazing to me how much control food can have over a person. There is a direct correlation between how I'm feeling emotionally and what goes into my mouth. Last week was a pretty good week mood-wise. I started on a new eating plan and was very motivated and doing well. It just so happens that the weather was quite nice last week and even got into the upper '40s. Then the weekend came, and socializing turned into over-eating. Saturday night it was dinner and the theater with friends, Sunday was lunch for Mom's birthday and Sunday night was our weekly dinner after choir rehearsal. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that my choices are anyone's fault but my own. I'm just saying I realize my own weaknesses. Now it's the next week, but the motivation is gone. And the winter weather is back. UGH! I was so proud of myself last week, as was my husband. I was picturing myself fitting into smaller clothes and having more energy. It's not that I don't want that, but that the less motivation I have, the more disappointed I am in myself and the more the cycle continues. I haven't found that one thing that always motivates me yet. Motivation breeds motivation, but you have to have the initial motivation first.
On another slightly-related note, this winter is KILLING me. EVERY year, I say I can't take another Wisconsin winter. Last year we made the brave decision to move to Arizona and I was SO excited to not have to deal with another winter. But things didn't work out financially, so here we are. While I am glad to be close to family, and everyone has said they're glad we stayed, I long for that warm weather and sunshine. But now I feel stuck. I feel like we proved that we can never leave because a) if one of us gets a job the other might not get one in time, b) We had to borrow money to be able to move in the first place and we can't do that again, and c) I have a great job that is getting us where we need to be. So what's the answer? This may be a stupid question, but how do other people afford to move across the country? I also feel like I'd be letting so many people down at this school if I left. This position has been vacated so many times; I don't want to add to that. But something has to change. Many have told me to get one of those lights, but I don't know that that would solve the problem. I can sit in front of the light, but as soon as I move, the cold and snow will still be there. I get very sick of the feeling of not wanting to go anywhere or do anything. I'm sure my son is sick of me feeling that way as well. But right now I'm just stuck.
On another slightly-related note, this winter is KILLING me. EVERY year, I say I can't take another Wisconsin winter. Last year we made the brave decision to move to Arizona and I was SO excited to not have to deal with another winter. But things didn't work out financially, so here we are. While I am glad to be close to family, and everyone has said they're glad we stayed, I long for that warm weather and sunshine. But now I feel stuck. I feel like we proved that we can never leave because a) if one of us gets a job the other might not get one in time, b) We had to borrow money to be able to move in the first place and we can't do that again, and c) I have a great job that is getting us where we need to be. So what's the answer? This may be a stupid question, but how do other people afford to move across the country? I also feel like I'd be letting so many people down at this school if I left. This position has been vacated so many times; I don't want to add to that. But something has to change. Many have told me to get one of those lights, but I don't know that that would solve the problem. I can sit in front of the light, but as soon as I move, the cold and snow will still be there. I get very sick of the feeling of not wanting to go anywhere or do anything. I'm sure my son is sick of me feeling that way as well. But right now I'm just stuck.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Fearless
This is a re-vamped version of a necklace I made a while ago. As some of you know, I sell Origami Owl. Most of the time I wear their lockets, which are awesome, and I fill them with things about my life such as my husband's and son's birthstones, or things about music or teaching. But Origami Owl also does these tags. There are many that say things like Blessed, Happiness, Namaste, etc. I chose to wear this one tomorrow to remind myself that I have nothing to fear. My illness does not define me and even though it's something I battle over and over again, I always win that battle. The colors of the stones you see next to the tag represent a few things. When it comes to "ribbon" colors, it seems as though one color can mean a million things. Green is the most common color for mental illness. There are others for depression, anxiety, ADHD, but since we all know I am hardly only one of those, I chose the broad label. Purple is for domestic abuse, among other things. I talked a little about that in an earlier post. Purple and turquoise together are the colors for suicide prevention. This is less about thoughts of suicide being a symptom of my illness, and more about me wanting the taboo label of mental illness removed and awareness for suicide prevention heightened.
Short and sweet post for today. As I type this my cat is snoring...it must be time for bed. Hope all are well.
–Eleanor Roosevelt
Monday, February 10, 2014
A glimpse into the crazy: when the fit hits the shan
Hello world!
It's been a while. I'm just going to go ahead and warn you right now that this post is going to really divulge some personal stuff, and it may make some people uncomfortable. No one except my mom and husband have seen me in the state I'm about to describe. Perhaps your view will change of me if you have never known this side of me. But I've decided it's too important not to tell. I know I'm not the only one that has been in this situation or something similar, so here goes:
This past week was my worst yet this winter, emotionally and physically. My son got a cold, which I then caught and it knocked me on my butt. I stayed home from work Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Now here comes that little part of calling in sick that I talked about in a previous post. Yes, I had a cold, and yes I felt like crap, but not just because of the cold. Could I have gone to work? Probably. But I couldn't even fathom going to work. All I wanted was to lay on a couch (or in bed), alone, and watch TV. I often pick TV shows to watch that have people that I live through vicariously in some way. This week it was Sex in the City. To be brave enough to leave everything behind, move to New York and then write??? That's my dream job! And that wardrobe!!! It doesn't make me feel bad about my life or anything, but it allows me to live another one for a while.
So anyway, I went back to work Friday. I could handle the thought of one day at work followed by two days off. The funny thing about my mental illness is that I am very aware of those foggy, tired days where I just don't want to do anything. I often say "I don't want to exist." It doesn't mean I want to die, it means I just don't exist in the lives of others and there's no responsibility, no accountability to anyone else. But the breakdowns..."the crazy"....that I rarely see coming.
It was Saturday night and I hadn't been in a good mood...at all. I was snarky with Jon and Elijah and really just wanted to be left alone. But I know it's my responsibility to take care of Elijah with Jon and not just abandon him, so I stayed downstairs. We had trouble getting him to bed that night, he really just didn't want to go. In the time between Jon getting home from work and Elijah going to bed, my mood continued to get worse. I was also allowing myself to be upset by a couple of things on Facebook. One was seeing a friend go visit another friend. Normally not a big deal, but that night I was wondering why this friend often cancelled plans with me when she didn't with anyone else. (I'm not saying this was rational thought). I had also gotten into an argument with someone regarding a post being sent around with pictures of crying children. It's not worth re-telling the argument, but in the mood I was in, it made me feel like the worst mother in the world.
I was almost in tears by the time I got upstairs to snuggle Elijah. I kept rethinking everything and after only a couple of minutes I told Elijah I needed to go back downstairs. I went downstairs, read the latest entry in the argument and immediately burst into tears. I'm not talking quiet tears streaming down my cheeks, I'm talking about body-shaking sobs. Jon, having no idea ANYTHING was going on (other than my snark) picked up my phone and read the thread on Facebook. He understood why I was upset, although still didn't really realize HOW upset I was. He told me to let it go, but I couldn't. I had to try to resolve this argument. (By the way, the argument was with someone I didn't know. Turns out it's actually someone I've met a couple of times, but not someone I had regularly talked to) I no longer remember in what order everything else happened. Jon was trying to comfort me, but he was afraid I'd upset Elijah and told me to get ahold of myself. Up until now he has never said anything like that when I'm in these states. So it really struck me when he did.
I started to calm down, but then something else got to me, I'm not even sure what. But then Jon got angry with me and I completely lost it. I started hitting myself in the head and Jon got even angrier with me. I literally tried to crawl INTO the couch and was wailing like a child. At that point Elijah started crying upstairs because he heard Jon get angry and then me crying and he wanted to protect me. I covered my ears and just screamed into the couch pillows for about 5 minutes. When I turned around Jon was gone, upstairs with Elijah. At that point my brain starting running like a hamster in a wheel. Why wasn't I good enough? Why did everyone always have someone better than me? Other than Jon, in all my friendships, why was I never the one people called first? Why wasn't I enough for anyone?
I slowly got up from the couch and walked out to the kitchen. I considered grabbing a knife and cutting (I began cutting when I was 16, but haven't done that in a very long time), and then considered doing even worse. I stood in the kitchen and stared at the block of knives on top of the fridge. All that kept going through my head was that I am not enough.
This, friends, is what a person with depression is like at the bottom. Our brains convince us that we are less than we are, worse than we are, or sometimes nothing at all. Regardless of what it is, the world either wouldn't miss us, or wouldn't even notice we're gone. So for all those out there that talk about how selfish suicide is, please try to understand this way of thinking. Is it rational? Of course not! But at the time, it seems so.
What pulled me back from that place, and what often pulls me back, was the visual of what my husband and son would see. Even in my most irrational mind, I know that if I did something to myself, they would always have that with them. They would always be able to see that. And while I may not be enough, they are, and they don't deserve that. You see, my boys are my heroes. They save me over and over again.
So there it is. The dirty, ugly truth of a breakdown. I hate that Jon sees it, but the thought of anyone else ever seeing that terrifies me to the bone. The shame and embarrassment would be too much to bear. Even now, I am considering not publishing this one. But then, if one person feels less alone because of it, than the vulnerability is worth it.
“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.
–Eleanor Roosevelt
It's been a while. I'm just going to go ahead and warn you right now that this post is going to really divulge some personal stuff, and it may make some people uncomfortable. No one except my mom and husband have seen me in the state I'm about to describe. Perhaps your view will change of me if you have never known this side of me. But I've decided it's too important not to tell. I know I'm not the only one that has been in this situation or something similar, so here goes:
This past week was my worst yet this winter, emotionally and physically. My son got a cold, which I then caught and it knocked me on my butt. I stayed home from work Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Now here comes that little part of calling in sick that I talked about in a previous post. Yes, I had a cold, and yes I felt like crap, but not just because of the cold. Could I have gone to work? Probably. But I couldn't even fathom going to work. All I wanted was to lay on a couch (or in bed), alone, and watch TV. I often pick TV shows to watch that have people that I live through vicariously in some way. This week it was Sex in the City. To be brave enough to leave everything behind, move to New York and then write??? That's my dream job! And that wardrobe!!! It doesn't make me feel bad about my life or anything, but it allows me to live another one for a while.
So anyway, I went back to work Friday. I could handle the thought of one day at work followed by two days off. The funny thing about my mental illness is that I am very aware of those foggy, tired days where I just don't want to do anything. I often say "I don't want to exist." It doesn't mean I want to die, it means I just don't exist in the lives of others and there's no responsibility, no accountability to anyone else. But the breakdowns..."the crazy"....that I rarely see coming.
It was Saturday night and I hadn't been in a good mood...at all. I was snarky with Jon and Elijah and really just wanted to be left alone. But I know it's my responsibility to take care of Elijah with Jon and not just abandon him, so I stayed downstairs. We had trouble getting him to bed that night, he really just didn't want to go. In the time between Jon getting home from work and Elijah going to bed, my mood continued to get worse. I was also allowing myself to be upset by a couple of things on Facebook. One was seeing a friend go visit another friend. Normally not a big deal, but that night I was wondering why this friend often cancelled plans with me when she didn't with anyone else. (I'm not saying this was rational thought). I had also gotten into an argument with someone regarding a post being sent around with pictures of crying children. It's not worth re-telling the argument, but in the mood I was in, it made me feel like the worst mother in the world.
I was almost in tears by the time I got upstairs to snuggle Elijah. I kept rethinking everything and after only a couple of minutes I told Elijah I needed to go back downstairs. I went downstairs, read the latest entry in the argument and immediately burst into tears. I'm not talking quiet tears streaming down my cheeks, I'm talking about body-shaking sobs. Jon, having no idea ANYTHING was going on (other than my snark) picked up my phone and read the thread on Facebook. He understood why I was upset, although still didn't really realize HOW upset I was. He told me to let it go, but I couldn't. I had to try to resolve this argument. (By the way, the argument was with someone I didn't know. Turns out it's actually someone I've met a couple of times, but not someone I had regularly talked to) I no longer remember in what order everything else happened. Jon was trying to comfort me, but he was afraid I'd upset Elijah and told me to get ahold of myself. Up until now he has never said anything like that when I'm in these states. So it really struck me when he did.
I started to calm down, but then something else got to me, I'm not even sure what. But then Jon got angry with me and I completely lost it. I started hitting myself in the head and Jon got even angrier with me. I literally tried to crawl INTO the couch and was wailing like a child. At that point Elijah started crying upstairs because he heard Jon get angry and then me crying and he wanted to protect me. I covered my ears and just screamed into the couch pillows for about 5 minutes. When I turned around Jon was gone, upstairs with Elijah. At that point my brain starting running like a hamster in a wheel. Why wasn't I good enough? Why did everyone always have someone better than me? Other than Jon, in all my friendships, why was I never the one people called first? Why wasn't I enough for anyone?
I slowly got up from the couch and walked out to the kitchen. I considered grabbing a knife and cutting (I began cutting when I was 16, but haven't done that in a very long time), and then considered doing even worse. I stood in the kitchen and stared at the block of knives on top of the fridge. All that kept going through my head was that I am not enough.
This, friends, is what a person with depression is like at the bottom. Our brains convince us that we are less than we are, worse than we are, or sometimes nothing at all. Regardless of what it is, the world either wouldn't miss us, or wouldn't even notice we're gone. So for all those out there that talk about how selfish suicide is, please try to understand this way of thinking. Is it rational? Of course not! But at the time, it seems so.
What pulled me back from that place, and what often pulls me back, was the visual of what my husband and son would see. Even in my most irrational mind, I know that if I did something to myself, they would always have that with them. They would always be able to see that. And while I may not be enough, they are, and they don't deserve that. You see, my boys are my heroes. They save me over and over again.
So there it is. The dirty, ugly truth of a breakdown. I hate that Jon sees it, but the thought of anyone else ever seeing that terrifies me to the bone. The shame and embarrassment would be too much to bear. Even now, I am considering not publishing this one. But then, if one person feels less alone because of it, than the vulnerability is worth it.
“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.
–Eleanor Roosevelt
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Learning to laugh at myself
My last two posts were a bit dreary, and many people have asked me how I deal with what I do. Well, first, I have such an amazing support system of friends and family and I am forever grateful for them. One of the other things that has helped the most has been learning to laugh at myself.
Do you have a friend whose name you could finish this sentence with? "That would only happen to _____."
I think I'm that person for every group of friends I have. I have more embarrassing stories than anyone else I know. I don't mean embarrassing to the point of being traumatic (although some are close) but embarrassing in that the stories usually get told over and over. So, in the spirit of continuing to share the inner workings of my brain, I will tell you some of those stories.
This story I will never live down, and a certain someone I know and love with never let me live it down. She tells it every chance she gets. ;-)
I think this was in the 7th grade, a girl I went to school with, but wasn't really friends with, had a party. She lived near me and we shared a lot of the same friends. So a lot of my friends were at this party, and I wanted to go. But I wasn't invited because, like I said, I wasn't really friends with the hostess. But it bothered me so much that I wasn't there, that I decided to take my dog for a walk thinking they just might be outside or looking out the window when I walked past. They would see me and and say "Hey, do you want to join us?" So off I went, walking the two or three blocks to her house. I went past and no one saw me. So I went home. Then I thought, well maybe I'll walk by again and they'll see me this time. This went on for more time than I care to admit. Finally, they saw me and invited me in, just like I had hoped. In my world, they just happened to finally look out the window and invited me in. Little did I know, they had seen me pretty much EVERY time I had walked past and finally felt sorry enough to let me in. Yep, only me. And yet I'm laughing as I sit here typing it. But not only did I get invited in, but remember that hostess I wasn't really friends with? She is now one of my closest and oldest friends. We share much of our lives and also our son's lives together. So embarrassing or not, I'm glad I decided to walk my dog. (and no, that's not a euphemism)
The next story I will tell you is a favorite among the people that know it. But I warn you, it has a bit of a gross factor to it, so if you're easily offended, don't read this.
So back in 2006, another one of my closest and oldest friends took a trip to Florida with her daughter. We had everything planned out day by day, and it was one of the best trips I've taken. Anyway, we decided that we didn't need to spend a whole day at either Animal Kingdom or Epcot. So we bought a hopper pass and did Animal Kingdom in the morning and Epcot in the afternoon. After Animal Kingdom, we ate lunch right outside the gates at Rainforest Cafe. That is where our story begins.
I don't remember what I had to eat, I only remember that when we got in the car to drive to Epcot, my stomach was NOT happy. I'm not talking about not happy in a nauseous way, or a gassy way, but in that rumbly, "uh oh" kind of way. Now, if you know anything about Epcot, you know that once you park, that's not the end of the trip to the entrance. You then have to get on a tram and take the ride to the gate, often stopping to pick up people along the way. I was clenching like I have never clenched before. Trying to avoid pooing my pants a la Charlotte in Sex and the City was all that was keeping me going. We finally got to the gate, scanned our tickets and I ran, yep ran, to the nearest person that worked there asking where the closest bathroom was. I don't even know that I paid attention to where my friends were and I don't think I cared. I sprinted to the bathroom, ran into a stall and yet...I still wasn't willing to sit on that Epcot toilet seat without a seat cover. So I hurriedly pulled out a seat cover, punched out the middle and sat down.
Here's where things get a little offensive.
Now, obviously, when you have a major explosion of that sort, it doesn't smell good. But when I was finally done and stood up to pull up my shorts, I smelled poo. Not just all-around-me poo but it's-a-lot-closer-than-it-should-be poo. I looked down to see a lovely stripe of poo on the back of my right hand. I apparently had not punched out the seat cover as adequately as I should have, and it created a small pocket for the poo to sit in. When it came time to "clean up", I ever so gently swiped the back of my hand across that pocket, thus creating the stripe of shame. Other than disgust, my immediate thought was, "Well if it's there, it HAS to be somewhere else too." And I was right. I unbuttoned and sat back down to see another lovely stripe of poo....on the front band of my underwear. I have no idea how it got there, but I knew I could not spend the rest of the day this most magical place with poop on my underwear. I did the only thing I could. That's right; I took my favorite mint green underwear and donated them to the happiest place on Earth, and proceeded to spend my day at Epcot in my baggy vacation shorts, commando. I'm sure Mickey would be proud.
Hopefully you have enjoyed my little anecdotes. And believe me, there are plenty more. But in my life I have been shown through experience and through that support system I hold so dear, that laughter really is the best medicine.
“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.”
–Eleanor Roosevelt
Do you have a friend whose name you could finish this sentence with? "That would only happen to _____."
I think I'm that person for every group of friends I have. I have more embarrassing stories than anyone else I know. I don't mean embarrassing to the point of being traumatic (although some are close) but embarrassing in that the stories usually get told over and over. So, in the spirit of continuing to share the inner workings of my brain, I will tell you some of those stories.
This story I will never live down, and a certain someone I know and love with never let me live it down. She tells it every chance she gets. ;-)
I think this was in the 7th grade, a girl I went to school with, but wasn't really friends with, had a party. She lived near me and we shared a lot of the same friends. So a lot of my friends were at this party, and I wanted to go. But I wasn't invited because, like I said, I wasn't really friends with the hostess. But it bothered me so much that I wasn't there, that I decided to take my dog for a walk thinking they just might be outside or looking out the window when I walked past. They would see me and and say "Hey, do you want to join us?" So off I went, walking the two or three blocks to her house. I went past and no one saw me. So I went home. Then I thought, well maybe I'll walk by again and they'll see me this time. This went on for more time than I care to admit. Finally, they saw me and invited me in, just like I had hoped. In my world, they just happened to finally look out the window and invited me in. Little did I know, they had seen me pretty much EVERY time I had walked past and finally felt sorry enough to let me in. Yep, only me. And yet I'm laughing as I sit here typing it. But not only did I get invited in, but remember that hostess I wasn't really friends with? She is now one of my closest and oldest friends. We share much of our lives and also our son's lives together. So embarrassing or not, I'm glad I decided to walk my dog. (and no, that's not a euphemism)
The next story I will tell you is a favorite among the people that know it. But I warn you, it has a bit of a gross factor to it, so if you're easily offended, don't read this.
So back in 2006, another one of my closest and oldest friends took a trip to Florida with her daughter. We had everything planned out day by day, and it was one of the best trips I've taken. Anyway, we decided that we didn't need to spend a whole day at either Animal Kingdom or Epcot. So we bought a hopper pass and did Animal Kingdom in the morning and Epcot in the afternoon. After Animal Kingdom, we ate lunch right outside the gates at Rainforest Cafe. That is where our story begins.
I don't remember what I had to eat, I only remember that when we got in the car to drive to Epcot, my stomach was NOT happy. I'm not talking about not happy in a nauseous way, or a gassy way, but in that rumbly, "uh oh" kind of way. Now, if you know anything about Epcot, you know that once you park, that's not the end of the trip to the entrance. You then have to get on a tram and take the ride to the gate, often stopping to pick up people along the way. I was clenching like I have never clenched before. Trying to avoid pooing my pants a la Charlotte in Sex and the City was all that was keeping me going. We finally got to the gate, scanned our tickets and I ran, yep ran, to the nearest person that worked there asking where the closest bathroom was. I don't even know that I paid attention to where my friends were and I don't think I cared. I sprinted to the bathroom, ran into a stall and yet...I still wasn't willing to sit on that Epcot toilet seat without a seat cover. So I hurriedly pulled out a seat cover, punched out the middle and sat down.
Here's where things get a little offensive.
Now, obviously, when you have a major explosion of that sort, it doesn't smell good. But when I was finally done and stood up to pull up my shorts, I smelled poo. Not just all-around-me poo but it's-a-lot-closer-than-it-should-be poo. I looked down to see a lovely stripe of poo on the back of my right hand. I apparently had not punched out the seat cover as adequately as I should have, and it created a small pocket for the poo to sit in. When it came time to "clean up", I ever so gently swiped the back of my hand across that pocket, thus creating the stripe of shame. Other than disgust, my immediate thought was, "Well if it's there, it HAS to be somewhere else too." And I was right. I unbuttoned and sat back down to see another lovely stripe of poo....on the front band of my underwear. I have no idea how it got there, but I knew I could not spend the rest of the day this most magical place with poop on my underwear. I did the only thing I could. That's right; I took my favorite mint green underwear and donated them to the happiest place on Earth, and proceeded to spend my day at Epcot in my baggy vacation shorts, commando. I'm sure Mickey would be proud.
Hopefully you have enjoyed my little anecdotes. And believe me, there are plenty more. But in my life I have been shown through experience and through that support system I hold so dear, that laughter really is the best medicine.
“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.”
–Eleanor Roosevelt
Friday, January 10, 2014
Seeing is Believing...
First of all, thank you for all of the wonderful support after my first post. I'm glad to see some people are relating and/or getting something out of it.
I was originally going to write my posts in chronological order to explain my story, but I don't know that that makes sense. And I'm not sure all of it really matters. I'll just get the nitty gritty out of the way. I mentioned a little in the last post, but I have been diagnosed with chronic unipolar depression, anxiety disorder, SAD and most recently ADD. (It was actually the picturing tasks in my head but not doing them that tipped off my doc to the ADD) When I was 16 I was a cutter and ended up spending two weeks in the hospital. The good thing that came out of that was finding the most wonderful doctor in the world. I am still with him 21 years later. I have a lot of scars from cutting, but I don't hide them. I actually wear them with pride. It's my proof to myself that I have conquered this once and can do it again.
That's one of the problems with mental illness is that there is no cure. You have to conquer it over and over again, and many times I have understood the desire to just get tired of it and end things. It's exhausting. But I know I was put on this earth for something, and I don't know what it is for sure, but I know I'm not done yet. This is a hard thing to remember in the darkest times though.
The other thing I wanted to talk about, and the reason for the post title, is that mental illness has no physical manifestation that can be witnessed by others. At least not unless they know what they're looking for. I can't call in to work and say that I can't get out of bed. The response would be "What's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?" No, I literally can not bring myself to get out of bed. But you can't SEE why, and really when I'm that low I don't want to talk about it, so therefore I'm left to make something up. I have a cold, the flu, my son is sick, my car won't start, and it goes on and on. I have lied to co-workers about why I was gone, and I kept the lie going when I went back to work. "How's your son?" "Oh he's good, feeling much better." Because what would you say if I told you that I was so depressed I couldn't get out of bed, and I laid there and cried the entire day and had myself convinced that no one loves me and the world wouldn't miss me. Sometimes I just want to disappear. Not necessarily end my life (although that sometimes comes into play), but cease to exist. Let me just lie there. *crickets* How awkward would that be?
In a recent job I went in to talk to my bosses about my issues. I was at a really, really low point and they seemed genuinely concerned...until I told them I needed to go home for the day. Then there was skepticism and, dare I say, judgement. You're just sad, why do you need to go home? I imagine a lot of people with depression that have trouble controlling it get fired. Because they can't talk about it with their boss(es) and can't explain why they keep missing work. And if you have to change medication you might just be screwed. Usually it takes up to 4 weeks for a new medication to kick in.
I don't have a solution for this other than to talk about it. My husband and I have a code. I tell him I'm having a "bad day" and he knows exactly what I mean. And he will MAKE me talk to him. Have I mentioned I married a saint? He puts up with this and never complains. He knows exactly how to deal with me, even if he doesn't always think he's doing a good job.
I promise that not every post will be this dark and dreary. I actually have quite a good sense of humor, especially when it comes to being crazy. Happy Friday, everyone. Tomorrow is another day.
“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.”
–Eleanor Roosevelt
First of all, thank you for all of the wonderful support after my first post. I'm glad to see some people are relating and/or getting something out of it.
I was originally going to write my posts in chronological order to explain my story, but I don't know that that makes sense. And I'm not sure all of it really matters. I'll just get the nitty gritty out of the way. I mentioned a little in the last post, but I have been diagnosed with chronic unipolar depression, anxiety disorder, SAD and most recently ADD. (It was actually the picturing tasks in my head but not doing them that tipped off my doc to the ADD) When I was 16 I was a cutter and ended up spending two weeks in the hospital. The good thing that came out of that was finding the most wonderful doctor in the world. I am still with him 21 years later. I have a lot of scars from cutting, but I don't hide them. I actually wear them with pride. It's my proof to myself that I have conquered this once and can do it again.
That's one of the problems with mental illness is that there is no cure. You have to conquer it over and over again, and many times I have understood the desire to just get tired of it and end things. It's exhausting. But I know I was put on this earth for something, and I don't know what it is for sure, but I know I'm not done yet. This is a hard thing to remember in the darkest times though.
The other thing I wanted to talk about, and the reason for the post title, is that mental illness has no physical manifestation that can be witnessed by others. At least not unless they know what they're looking for. I can't call in to work and say that I can't get out of bed. The response would be "What's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?" No, I literally can not bring myself to get out of bed. But you can't SEE why, and really when I'm that low I don't want to talk about it, so therefore I'm left to make something up. I have a cold, the flu, my son is sick, my car won't start, and it goes on and on. I have lied to co-workers about why I was gone, and I kept the lie going when I went back to work. "How's your son?" "Oh he's good, feeling much better." Because what would you say if I told you that I was so depressed I couldn't get out of bed, and I laid there and cried the entire day and had myself convinced that no one loves me and the world wouldn't miss me. Sometimes I just want to disappear. Not necessarily end my life (although that sometimes comes into play), but cease to exist. Let me just lie there. *crickets* How awkward would that be?
In a recent job I went in to talk to my bosses about my issues. I was at a really, really low point and they seemed genuinely concerned...until I told them I needed to go home for the day. Then there was skepticism and, dare I say, judgement. You're just sad, why do you need to go home? I imagine a lot of people with depression that have trouble controlling it get fired. Because they can't talk about it with their boss(es) and can't explain why they keep missing work. And if you have to change medication you might just be screwed. Usually it takes up to 4 weeks for a new medication to kick in.
I don't have a solution for this other than to talk about it. My husband and I have a code. I tell him I'm having a "bad day" and he knows exactly what I mean. And he will MAKE me talk to him. Have I mentioned I married a saint? He puts up with this and never complains. He knows exactly how to deal with me, even if he doesn't always think he's doing a good job.
I promise that not every post will be this dark and dreary. I actually have quite a good sense of humor, especially when it comes to being crazy. Happy Friday, everyone. Tomorrow is another day.
“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.”
–Eleanor Roosevelt
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Finishing and what it means to be SAD
I started this blog over a year ago. Started and never finished. Never posted anything.
I am not a finisher. I never have been. I have watched people surpass me in so many areas of my life and do things that I want to do. I got a degree in journalism, but I didn't want to compete for the jobs in that competitive field. I took all the classes for my Master's degree but never finished my thesis. I wanted to teach college, but chickened out and am now trying to find a way to finish my masters at a different school because my last advisor is not a fan (and who can blame him?). I am constantly planning ways to organize my house and my life and I actually picture myself doing it (that's right, I PICTURE it!), but sitting on the couch always wins. I have work to do for school, small tasks I need to finish for health insurance and even just the small task of calling to make an appointment, and yet I am constantly lured to that glowing box across the room where people are living the life that I want. Or drawn to the pages of the latest murder mystery. Or, yes, I spend hours on Facebook continuously refreshing my news feed. Whatever it is, someone else's life, no matter how fictional, will always win over the small day-to-day tasks of my life.
But even to type that sounds ridiculous. All of it. Not getting things done for TV. Thinking anyone can have a life easier than mine. I have a wonderful husband, a job I love, a beautiful son and have been blessed with amazing friends and family. So what is my problem you ask?
Through this blog I will try to explain to you where this all comes from and the journey that I started over 20 years ago. I am doing this for a few reasons. The first is just to get the story out of my constantly-jumbled brain. The second is to hold myself accountable and be able to see trends and habits that I want to change in myself. And the third is because I've been told that my story could help people, particularly adolescents starting a similar journey.
So why have I not published yet? Because depression, anxiety, ADD and mental illness in general is a taboo subject, even in 2014. People tend to either want to fix you, think you have the ability to will yourself to be well, or they don't know what to say or do and end up feeling sorry for you. Then there are those who also think you are just vying for attention. I'm not looking for any of that. I am more well-versed in my illnesses than anyone and even I don't always understand them. But perhaps this can help you understand, empathize, or just know that there is someone else out there dealing with similar issues.
Now let's be honest...I am a psychiatrists nightmare...or wet dream. I have so many letters after my name I SHOULD be a professor. Unfortunately those letters include ADD, SAD and don't actually make me qualified to teach anything. I was blessed with the mental illnesses past on by generations on my mom's side. It's actually so prevalent that it is a family joke.
You would think I would start at the beginning, but not today. Today I'm going to talk about today. Today is a SAD day. You would think I would see it coming, since I deal with it annually. But I never do. I literally wake up and feel completely different than the day before. It is no longer obvious that I have a blessed life. Suddenly all the little quirks of my husbands that I love have become annoying. The job that I couldn't wait to get back to after break is too overwhelming to face. And my son, who makes me smile almost all day every day, becomes the recipient of my lack of patience.
SEASONAL AFFECTIVE DISORDER = SAD
I remember minute details of a lot of this journey, but I don't remember when this started or when I was diagnosed with it. All I know is that it comes every year, I never know when it will arrive, and it seems to last longer every year. In case you are not familiar, SAD is a form of depression that comes in the fall and winter months when there is a lack of consistent sun. It comes on top of my already diagnosed clinical depression and often cuts through any effect that my medications provide. I lose interest in leaving the house, socializing, and even daily tasks like showering. If left to my own devices, I will either sleep all day, or watch TV. I have discovered that often what helps is forcing myself to do things. As I said, I often picture myself getting things done, but never leave the couch. Forcing myself usually gets some momentum behind me. So today, I'm forcing myself to write this blog.
Last summer I was offered a job in Arizona. I hated the thought of leaving my family and friends behind, but the thought of constant sunshine was the ultimate decision-maker for me. Every time I told someone, they said "Well yeah, it's sunny, but it's hot! And what about your family?" No, see, you don't get it. I don't just like sun, I NEED it. Every spring, as I begin to emerge from my SAD fog, I say I can't spend another winter in Wisconsin. So when things didn't work out, I was very happy to be staying close to family, but dreaded what I knew would come.
People like me get very good at disguising our emotions for the general passersby. But out in public, we can often get short with people, or just not very sociable. So think first before you judge that person that got crabby with you, you never know what they might be going through.
As I continue to babble I will add one last thing. A large part of depression is gaining/being overweight, and a large part of being overweight is depression. For me they go hand-in-hand and create a very large catch-22. I know that exercise would make me feel better, but honestly can't muster the energy. So another part of this journey is my fight, and hopefully my eventual conquering of my weight issues.
As I said before, if you're reading this, of course feel free to comment, but remember I'm not looking to be fixed. And please, for God's sake, don't feel sorry for me. I just know that I'm not the only person out there like me, and I think it's about time mental illness ceases to be a taboo topic. I don't want to live my whole life thinking I may be able to help someone feel less alone, but deciding against for fear of judgment.
I will leave you with a quote that I think has become my motto, by a woman that I have long admired:
“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.”
–Eleanor Roosevelt
I am not a finisher. I never have been. I have watched people surpass me in so many areas of my life and do things that I want to do. I got a degree in journalism, but I didn't want to compete for the jobs in that competitive field. I took all the classes for my Master's degree but never finished my thesis. I wanted to teach college, but chickened out and am now trying to find a way to finish my masters at a different school because my last advisor is not a fan (and who can blame him?). I am constantly planning ways to organize my house and my life and I actually picture myself doing it (that's right, I PICTURE it!), but sitting on the couch always wins. I have work to do for school, small tasks I need to finish for health insurance and even just the small task of calling to make an appointment, and yet I am constantly lured to that glowing box across the room where people are living the life that I want. Or drawn to the pages of the latest murder mystery. Or, yes, I spend hours on Facebook continuously refreshing my news feed. Whatever it is, someone else's life, no matter how fictional, will always win over the small day-to-day tasks of my life.
But even to type that sounds ridiculous. All of it. Not getting things done for TV. Thinking anyone can have a life easier than mine. I have a wonderful husband, a job I love, a beautiful son and have been blessed with amazing friends and family. So what is my problem you ask?
Through this blog I will try to explain to you where this all comes from and the journey that I started over 20 years ago. I am doing this for a few reasons. The first is just to get the story out of my constantly-jumbled brain. The second is to hold myself accountable and be able to see trends and habits that I want to change in myself. And the third is because I've been told that my story could help people, particularly adolescents starting a similar journey.
So why have I not published yet? Because depression, anxiety, ADD and mental illness in general is a taboo subject, even in 2014. People tend to either want to fix you, think you have the ability to will yourself to be well, or they don't know what to say or do and end up feeling sorry for you. Then there are those who also think you are just vying for attention. I'm not looking for any of that. I am more well-versed in my illnesses than anyone and even I don't always understand them. But perhaps this can help you understand, empathize, or just know that there is someone else out there dealing with similar issues.
Now let's be honest...I am a psychiatrists nightmare...or wet dream. I have so many letters after my name I SHOULD be a professor. Unfortunately those letters include ADD, SAD and don't actually make me qualified to teach anything. I was blessed with the mental illnesses past on by generations on my mom's side. It's actually so prevalent that it is a family joke.
You would think I would start at the beginning, but not today. Today I'm going to talk about today. Today is a SAD day. You would think I would see it coming, since I deal with it annually. But I never do. I literally wake up and feel completely different than the day before. It is no longer obvious that I have a blessed life. Suddenly all the little quirks of my husbands that I love have become annoying. The job that I couldn't wait to get back to after break is too overwhelming to face. And my son, who makes me smile almost all day every day, becomes the recipient of my lack of patience.
SEASONAL AFFECTIVE DISORDER = SAD
I remember minute details of a lot of this journey, but I don't remember when this started or when I was diagnosed with it. All I know is that it comes every year, I never know when it will arrive, and it seems to last longer every year. In case you are not familiar, SAD is a form of depression that comes in the fall and winter months when there is a lack of consistent sun. It comes on top of my already diagnosed clinical depression and often cuts through any effect that my medications provide. I lose interest in leaving the house, socializing, and even daily tasks like showering. If left to my own devices, I will either sleep all day, or watch TV. I have discovered that often what helps is forcing myself to do things. As I said, I often picture myself getting things done, but never leave the couch. Forcing myself usually gets some momentum behind me. So today, I'm forcing myself to write this blog.
Last summer I was offered a job in Arizona. I hated the thought of leaving my family and friends behind, but the thought of constant sunshine was the ultimate decision-maker for me. Every time I told someone, they said "Well yeah, it's sunny, but it's hot! And what about your family?" No, see, you don't get it. I don't just like sun, I NEED it. Every spring, as I begin to emerge from my SAD fog, I say I can't spend another winter in Wisconsin. So when things didn't work out, I was very happy to be staying close to family, but dreaded what I knew would come.
People like me get very good at disguising our emotions for the general passersby. But out in public, we can often get short with people, or just not very sociable. So think first before you judge that person that got crabby with you, you never know what they might be going through.
As I continue to babble I will add one last thing. A large part of depression is gaining/being overweight, and a large part of being overweight is depression. For me they go hand-in-hand and create a very large catch-22. I know that exercise would make me feel better, but honestly can't muster the energy. So another part of this journey is my fight, and hopefully my eventual conquering of my weight issues.
As I said before, if you're reading this, of course feel free to comment, but remember I'm not looking to be fixed. And please, for God's sake, don't feel sorry for me. I just know that I'm not the only person out there like me, and I think it's about time mental illness ceases to be a taboo topic. I don't want to live my whole life thinking I may be able to help someone feel less alone, but deciding against for fear of judgment.
I will leave you with a quote that I think has become my motto, by a woman that I have long admired:
“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.”
–Eleanor Roosevelt
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