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
Sunday, January 12, 2014
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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