process

Marking Time

~ storm257 ~ 1 Comment

Another year. Today, like last year on this date, I reflect on where I have been and where I am now.

Last year, however, I was in California facing the real possibility that a person I love and admire would lose her life to cancer. It felt completely unfair, because disease does not care about fairness, and that piece of her experience, discussed in private moments, over tea and toast with Marmite, that part of us that wants there to be reason and rationale for the horrible things that occur, struck me then, and now, as the element of my own path with depression (oh, and life generally) with which I struggle.

Deep gratitude to my family, my partner, and most of all my friends, who have listened and helped me through the darkest moments, or the times when I was stuck in a loop of pointless thinking, unable to get out of my own way, unable to release worries that cannot serve me. Deep gratitude to my therapist, who has seen me through times when I could not articulate complete thoughts, through blind rage, tears that do not stop, and sees me now, as we move into a new place where I may actually find some understanding, not of my reactions to various things (we work on that all the damn time), but what is at the root.

What I know about myself is that I do believe there are reasons for most things in our lives. I don’t mean in a transcendent sense, though perhaps that too, but in that sense that we all have things we choose not to or cannot face, and those experiences, relationships, or memories, do impact how we live. Maybe you are someone for whom this does not apply, however, I’ve yet to meet someone with that much clarity or unity to their life. We’re all imperfect and life gives us some scary shit to bear. Leonard Cohen said it best, ” There is a crack, a crack in everything (there is a crack in everything), / That’s how the light gets in” I feel I am ready to look at those cracks a bit closer and maybe find where they begin.

This last year has held so much change and letting go. I am not living the life I thought I would be; I’ve had to accept that some things will not be. I have pushed boundaries for myself. I have been intolerant and patient. I have been angry and have felt my heart open in unexpected and welcome ways. I have faced moments when my mood has dictated my actions and others where I have exercised control. Most importantly, I have felt all of these things and faced my life with strength that I did not possess two years ago.

This is me today:

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Is it me?

~ storm257 ~ 1 Comment

It has been a year since I sat on the couch (most of the day, everyday), a pattern broken only by  the arrival of a mental health worker coming to make sure that, while I waited to be assigned a therapist, I didn’t harm myself.

It has been a year since I felt too shattered to be humiliated by the acquiescence of this ritual; the surrender in waiting for something that I was only receiving now because I had been deemed too sick to be left to my own devices, but not quite sick enough for an in-patient program. I had tried to avoid being in that place, where I was not advocating for myself because I no longer saw the value in that fight. I had tried and not succeeded for many months. For better or worse, these daily check-ins with my Diversions counselor were moving me toward something I was not able to do on my own. The value of this is not lost to me.

In this year I have worked to let go of many things. I have fought my way out from the hole where depression put me. I have battled against the snares and dark seduction of believing I would lose.

In this year, I have accepted, sometimes bitterly, that medication does help, that I am more productive, that I do not feel paralyzed as I did. I have accepted that many of my feelings of powerlessness and alienation are directly related to my “mood” and not my character.

This latter part is a daily struggle.

I ask myself, “Is it me?” I search my memory for a time when there was something definitive, when I truly knew what I wanted, what I am capable of, could answer questions about desires and dreams. I’ve lost a good deal of memory over the years. Sometimes it is hard to recall who I once was, before I felt like this. Sometimes it is difficult to believe I every felt another way. So that’s the me part.

Today my therapist asked me if I think perhaps that I feel so lost, so incapable of finding purpose, something I want to do with myself, not because this is always who I’ve been but due to depression. It is hard to know, if there is a line, where that line can be drawn.

I know because I have had this conversation with other people who suffer depression that this is a common question. There are many of us who try to find the place where we begin, authentically, and where disease ends. Sometimes it is impossibly unclear. Sometimes it feels that there is no separation.

I don’t have any answers. I can only look at where I am today and know that this is a better place than where I was last year. Being here is better, and I have brought myself here.

Try to celebrate the small victories when possible. This is me today: FullSizeRender(11).jpg

Reminder: Love

~ storm257 ~ 1 Comment

I have been trying to put pen to paper since I learned the hard truth of what is happening in your life right now. When I picture you it is always your kindness I recall first, and your beautiful smile, and what a good friend you were to me almost twenty years ago when we first met. You were brave then, and like me, growing braver, as you learned to manage and release the things which had made it necessary to be brave, early in life.

So I know that you are brave now and I know that you are strong. But when you are not, please know that you are always loved — and within that love — you are brave and strong when you cannot be.

Life gives us reminders sometimes, with difficulty and heartache, which help us to see that there is more to be thankful for, in drawing breath, in shedding tears, in grief and love, because we are given another opportunity. The chance to feel again, and more.

Depression takes away the awe that these momentary reminders inspire by removing the variation, robbing one of the grief or gratitude, greying the love and dulling the joys.

A year ago, had I received news of a friend’s battle with cancer, I don’t know that I would have been able to feel everything that I feel now. I am not sure I would have been able to rise out of the dark void depression created, to feel fear, and shock, and deep gratitude for the community we have cultivated these last two decades.

The fact that I can feel now, and that these feelings come in waves and are true, and hard, makes this living I am doing very precious. I will take this welling and difficulty all day long.

Things that are hard

~ storm257 ~ 1 Comment

One of the reasons some people, myself included, disdain medication has to do with diminished capacity. Feeling less, thinking less, understanding less. It is likely true that medication doesn’t actually do any of these things – but when one has become accustom to a sustained experience of fear or sadness or rage, which paralyzes and makes the possibility of other emotions – gentler ones – rare or impossible – feeling indistinct emotions, mild unhappiness for example, feels like feeling nothing at all.

And if, like me, one has spent her or his creative life producing out the dark places, where thoughts are often racing, colorful, and frightening,  it is very difficult to make anything when medicated. The stillness in my brain mirrored in my hands. In part, I have begun to ask fewer questions. This isn’t entirely unwelcome. Many of the queries my brain likes to make when I am depressed are not answerable, and not in interesting ways. Asking unanswerable questions can make one pretty miserable – and crazy – both of which I already have covered, thanks.

Medication blocks the loop which functions inside my brain to cause hours or even days of fruitless questions and self-doubt. Medication slows down the descent into meaninglessness which, especially this time of year, threatens to drag me down. But medication does not cure depression. And, medication does not destroy the capacities I have worked to grow. I can still write, I can still make things, I can still question the trajectory of my life. Those last things are hard to know.

For those of us who find value in our lives through what we make, or think, or write – it is hard to be convinced that we can do those things when we are working toward being well. It is exceedingly difficult to do what you have not practiced. And while logic would dictate that practice is a healthy part of the getting well process – it is hard and can feel artificial.

I’ve tried several medications in the last month – one failure, one I refused to take, and one that seems to be helping. This is the first time I’ve written anything aside from lecture notes and cover letters. And it’s hard. And maybe good. I’ll keep trying.

This is me today: 2 15. jpg.jpg

The Wait

~ storm257 ~ 1 Comment

I have an appointment tomorrow with a psychiatrist. It has been several years since I last accepted that medication is necessary for me to function, but I am again in a place where I face this choice. It doesn’t feel like a choice.

Sometimes I try to remember what it was like, what I was like, before depression. I try to recall how I coped with emotions, related to those I love, faced stress, felt love. Part of what I know is that depression would like to believe there never was a time before now. Sometimes, I succumb to this possibility. What is the point really of looking back? Depression denies me access to many of the tools that I know can help me, even when I know exactly where and what they are.

Yesterday, I was with my family, whom I love and trust. I sat among them and felt millions of layers removed, like transparent walls erected to keep me unable to touch them, to receive the love they offer, to ask for anything at all. It is infuriating and demoralizing to be unable to feel balanced, to always feel incomplete, defeated, incapable of normal emotional responses. I don’t want to be like this. I really don’t.

So tomorrow, I’ll try again to find a way to help my brain. I’ll hope for some relief. I’ll hope my appointment isn’t cancelled (again – the major downside of being on Medicaid is there are very few psychiatrists and many people seeking assistance). And perhaps, sometime soon, I won’t feel the distance, but will be able to traverse what is now hard and far.

Stretch

~ storm257 ~ 1 Comment

One of the hardest obstacles for me to overcome when depressed is two-fold. I like solitude and quiet and therefore I choose to spend a lot of time alone. This is true for me all of the time, but it becomes tricky when I am not well.

Depression plays games with self-esteem and self-regard. It wants you to stay “safe” inside your own thoughts. Within this place is is easier to convince you that not only do you lack interest in doing anything, but really in actual fact – you are not capable.

The rational part of you calls bullshit. However, if, like me, you slip into the place where isolation feels less overwhelming and you spend increasingly more time listening to depression – these ideas can take hold.

This is the two-fold problem. Depression not only robs you of your desire to engage, to do what you know is healthier for you, it also can be very convincing about your lack of ability to do things you know you can accomplish. It is not just that you lack motivation, but more disturbingly, that you are beginning to believe you also lack capability.

Fear can take over and fear is really powerful.

It has been nearly four weeks since I was involuntarily hospitalized for depression. Today I received a “check-in” phone call from the hospital making sure I have followed up with the crisis diversion program.

I was pissed initially to be receiving a follow-up phone call so long after that horrible experience, but a few hours later, I find I feel grateful. In under four weeks I have found comfort in the weekly meetings I have with a social worker; they are engaged in helping me to take steps I could not handle on my own. I will meet a therapist later this week who will hopefully work with me toward deeper, meaningful coping and uncovering truths I have not examined fully.

I attended a book club on Sunday where I only knew one person. This is way outside of my comfort zone, for those of you who couldn’t guess, and it was nice to be with kind strangers. This is the first time in many years I have chosen to try something that makes me uncomfortable. Admitting this is also kind of a big deal.

I have also been approached to teach some Freshman level English courses at a nearby community college this Fall. Last Fall, before I started to collapse, I applied for lots of different work. Thankfully, some of that energy has panned out.

I am grateful for the follow-up call because it led to this reflection. I can see quite clearly that the work I am now engaging is beginning to fight against the powerful forces which have kept me afraid, second-guessing my abilities and doubting that I can rise above to once again find meaning in my life. There are days I still let doubts in, but I am growing stronger, taking the small steps toward wellness.

This is me today:

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Stepping Back

~ storm257 ~ 2 Comments

I spent the last week with my family in a Girl Scout camp in central Maine. There was rain and mosquitoes, laughter and tears, warmth and comforts only found with the people one can count on not to judge too harshly, because they know, my silence and my inability to explain well the deep and constant weight of emptiness depression creates.

I found myself alone in a canoe Friday morning with my little dog, tears streaming down my face because the grey stillness of early morning Maine perfections – the calm water, the unbearable green treeline, the unearthly, pure air breathed into my lungs – did not bring me joy. Or more to the point, joy was there, but I could not experience the emotion which I have had in abundance so many time before because I am still here behind this wall. I see, I smell, I taste the same things I have hundreds of times, but just now, they are out of reach.

It isn’t easy to articulate this gulf. It isn’t pleasant to stand at this place and to know there are things to feel just beyond my grasp. However, the knowledge that I can remember feeling joy and awe, while causing discomfort, also moves me to want the path back to be again within reach.

I held my infant nephew many times this past week and was comforted by his simple love. His responses to smiling faces, to sweet voices, gentle touch, inspire me to take the small steps back to finding a place where simplicity can begin to bridge the void.

This is me on Friday:

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Gratitude

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This afternoon I will drive to Maine with my family to spend the week with my parents, my siblings and their families. In the wake of what has been a very trying, chaotic and dark, and in the same moment, transitional month, I am looking forward.

An old friend suggested keeping a gratitude list to help in times when it is easier to believe life is dominated by sadness and failure, when it is most difficult to see out of the emptiness. From this space of love for family and Maine summers, I can see quite clearly what I have to be grateful for today.

I am grateful for compassion – for myself and others.

I am grateful for quiet

I am grateful for notebooks and deluxe-micro uni-ball pens

I am grateful for hands that can create and show affection

I am grateful for the ability to write and speak true things

I am grateful for small dogs

I am grateful to be surrounded by profound honesty and love that is present even when I am not

I am grateful for the powers greater than my depression – for the ocean, morning stillness, birds and their songs.

Next week I will begin the work of finding a therapist and wellness. There is nothing linear about this process and I expect missteps and frustration as well as relief and hope. And to be in a place where hope is something I can imagine is also a gratitude.

This is me today:

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Feat

~ storm257 ~ 3 Comments

Some mornings I wake up and everything within me is full of rage. I am humiliated by my life – I am not in command of anything. Every action taken by those around me feels like an affront or an assault.

I don’t have the switch that some people seem to, which says: “This is out of your control.” “Let it go.” “Don’t take everything so personally.”

When one has emotions that are out of proportion to action – which I do pretty much all the time – those rational parts of the brain which respond to normal or even less than normal, but not actually directly harmful actions or behaviours, are not able to help me to see that I am angrier than I should be. That anger makes me feel ashamed of myself because I cannot let it go.

Everything when one is where I am currently feels bad. Everything feels intentional. The smallest slight, which for someone with a healthy brain may only trigger irritation, can throw me into a tailspin that I will obsess about for hours or days.

This is not better than feeling nothing. It is exhausting and embarrassing and eventually leads me back to the relative safety of feeling nothing. Because between the two, choosing the lack of emotion feels less bad.

This inability to regulate emotional response and the recovery it takes to finally let go – by retreating to the meaningless place where none of this matters is not good. This is the cycle of most of my days. Like many people with depression, I feel better as the day moves on. Which is helpful today, when I meet with a psychiatrist for the first time since I was hospitalized this afternoon.

Imagine if most of your days begin this way. This is me today:

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