Depression Talk

After a couple of disasterous relationships, a few years ago I took myself out of the dating scene. Since I became celibate I’ve been able to start my own freelance writing business, give to charity and help out my family (instead of the other way around, for a change). I’ve also been able to make great strides in managing my major depression.

Am I Being Punished?

Perhaps it was my Protestant upbringing, perhaps it was watchign too many movies or perhaps it was my depression, but many times I think the reason that my relationships turned out so badly was because I never stayed true to my biggest love.

My biggest love happens to be Peter Gabriel. I fell for him when I was 16 and now I’m — a lot older. However, the big snag in my relationship with Peter is that he’s completely unaware of it. He’s also currently married to a woman younger, more attractive, more intelligent and more fertile than I am, so I don’t think I have much of a shot (not that I ever did. In between wives, he’s dated actresses, models and other singers).

But yet, I’ve still not stayed true to him. In one way, I’ve betrayed my greatest love, so is that why my relationships were always crap, because I was being punished.

This Is, Of Course, Nonsense

Even if I did manage to date Peter, I’d sure as hell screw it up somehow. That’s just the way I am. I like being single — and unchained by a relationship. So, I feel miserable in the spring when the hormones start rushing about my body, but it’ll pass. It always does.

Not everyone with depression has problems with racing thoughts and anxiety, but I happen to be one of the lucky ones that do. I get the racing thoughts first and then the anxiety, which can lead to insomnia, trembling and general crankiness. The strangest things can set my mind off into these unstoppable whirlwinds of thoughts. Yesterday, it was doing a post on YouTube Digger about David Berkowitz.

I Hate David Berkowitz

He’s a serial killer, arsonist, animal killer and ordained Born Again minister. I was very young when Berkowitz terrified the East Coast as the “Son of Sam” or “the 44 calibre killer”. He also displays several symptoms of insanity, such as hearing voices. I thought it would be interesting to do a couple of posts about him as I was takng the month of March to look at clips about madness. (March Madness. Get it? Oh, never mind.)

For some reason, I’d always assumed that Berkowitz had been executed. He was caught in 1977, remember. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that not only is he alive and doing quite well having his every need catered for him in prison, but that he has a thriving ministry and is a successful book author.

And, for some reason, I was filled with fury at the unfairness of life and that set off my racing thoughts.

Trying to Cope

One the thoughts begin to race, I have very little success reeling them in. The only way I can cope is by either distracting myself with work or television until I eventually drop unconsius from exhaustion.

Now, I’m trying to laugh at myself by making up little tunes like

I hate David Berkowitz
Doo-dah
Doo dah
I hate David Berkowitz
Oh, dee doo dah day.

Anything to keep one mentally healthy, I guess.

In doing this blog and the migraine blog, I read a lot of information about different types of depression (and often people with migraines have depression). Right now, I’m reading The Family Intervention Guide to Mental Illness: Recognizing Symptoms and Getting Treatment by Bodie Morey and Kim T. Mueser, PhD. The book deals not only with various types of depression and mood disorders, but also fun things like schizophrenia, dementia and obessive compulsive disorder.

In reading all of the symptoms, I can’t help but see myself having every single one of these conditions.

This Is Normal

Actually, it’s a normal reaction to read about an illness and then suddenly think you have it. It’s not just hypochondria (which is also mentioned in the book, come to think of it.) Haven’t you ever read a magazine artile or saw a news show about a newly discovered disease and then start feeling the very same early symptoms of the disease? I can’t hear anything about arthritis without my back giving a twinge, for example. And I can’t hear anythign about diabetes without thinking “Mmmmm — sugar..” (OK, maybe that was a bad example.)

However, most people get over this sensation in a few days. They run around like a maniac in order to take care of their lives and in the process, the memory of the upsetting disease we think we may be getting goes further and further from our minds.

Time Frame

And I think that’s why we are suddenly convinced that we have the condition we were just learning about. It was takng up our full attention. But if a couple of weeks go by and you still think something’s wrong, it couldn’t hurt to go see a doctor.

Hope this helps.

I haven’t been to a Recovery meeting in quite a while, but I do look over the literature every now and then. One of the key concepts is spotting. This is when you notice your symptoms of your mental illness and can recognize that you are not going insane, or the sky is not falling — you are just having symptoms. This all helps you to calm down and get a better perspecitive in how to handle daily activities (called “trivialities” in Recovery-speak).

An Example From Today

I have to always accompany my Mom when grocery shopping. She’s had several surgeries and just this autumn had two mini-strokes. I also think she likes to take me along so I feel useful.

Anyway, it’s hard for Mom to walk. This is one thing I’m still good at. So, if she forgets an item, I run back the seven asiles or so to get it while she carries on. So, she asked me to go check for curry paste and I did so, stopping to pick up a couple of items on the way.

And then I couldn’t find my Mom in the grocery store. There I was, 39 years old with two college degrees, holding onto a box of tea, a jar or tortilla chips and a jar of guacamole and I had lost my Mom. My thoughts started to whirl.

“My God — will I never grow up? Did Mom spontaneously combust? Is she on her way to the hospital while I rush up and down every asile over and over again? She has all of the money! I left my purse at home — !”

The panic began to build.

Imagination On Fire

Right, I took a breath, stayed still a moment and took stock of the situation. No one was acting abnormally, so that means Mom must be acting just like any other shopper and is not doing anything alarming. My imagination is on fire again.

Losing your mother in the grocery store when you are 39 years old is not dangerous. It’s embarassing, granted, but it’s not dangerous. I spotted a symptom of panic. It doesn’t mean that anything worth panicing over is actually going on.

Anyway, I finally found Mom and she said, “I saw you run by twice and tried to flag you down, but I’m too tired and thought I’d finally catch up to you when you ran out of steam.”

I got to keep the guacamole, chips and tea anyway. Never did find the curry paste.

Mom got a frantic phone call this afternoon. Her friend of about twenty years was calling from the hospital, after a failed suicide attempt. Her friend had been increasingly isolating herself from others — even buying a house far away from everyone she knew — and Mom did tell her that she was concerned for her well being. Her friend has severe depression.

Mom’s friend asked my Mom to contact her relatives in Ohio to come visit her while she was in the hopsital. Mom did so, telling complete strangers that their family member near Philadelphia had once again tried to commit suicide by trying to jump off a house roof and had to be taken to the hospital in handcuffs.

(No, I don’t quite understand that, either, but I’m not sure I really want to know.)

Not Your Fault

Mom says she feels as if she should be doing more to help her friend in the hopsital, but really, there just isn’t anything she can do. When someone you cares for tries to commit suicide, you naturally feel some degree of guilt. Party of it is survivor’s guilt and part of it is just the confusion and upheaval that such news of a failed sucide attempt brings.

Also, you feel bad because the situation is totally out of your control. When someone you care for tries to commit suicide, it’s not your fault. It is your fault if you completely ignore them when they ask you for help during their recovery.

Signs of Suicide

Although Mom did talk to her friend about her isolation, the suicide attempt still seemed like a bolt from the blue. Mom’s friend did not act in a way that let her feelings of suicide show — except for choosing more and more to stay by herself, surrounded by people who didn’t know her at all.

What could Mom do — force her friend to get help when her friend didn’t want it, just because she moved far away and stayed home every night instead of going to the movies? So, if you think you should have done more to help your loved one who tries to commit suicide, take a deep breath.

You did all you could.

I live with my Mom but my Dad and my stepmother live in the next town. Dad takes me out for breakfast every couple of weeks. Mom and Dad divorced when I was 16, but both parents were homebodies. They didn’t take business trips, gave up vacations in order to send me to a good school and were basically “there” for me. I always kept in contact with Dad all through my life and now, at 38, I was bent over French Toast and mentioned, “I stayed up until one in the morning watching the election. Wasn’t it great?”

And then discovered that my Dad was and is a conservative Republican.

Whoopsie.

How Didn’t I Know?

After having more or less steady contact with my father for 38 years, you think I would’ve somehow picked up on the fact that he was Republican. But I didn’t. I went through these 38 years being absolutely positive that he was a liberal to moderate Democrat. Why did I assume that?

Part of it was probably due to Dad being somewhat quiet about subjects like religion or politics, although he could be incredibly argumentive about things like unions, saving the whales and helping the environment (of which he is all for). But mostly, I didn’t know because of my depression.

You Get A Little Self Obsessed

With any type of depression, it’s very hard to get the big picture of things. You make assumptions and assume that there can’t be any change to those assumptions. This is one reason why people with depression often don’t go get help — because they are convinced that they can’t be helped.

When I look back on my political inclinations, I just assumed I got them from my parents. They pushed me in one direction and then let me go and I chose to keep toddling down the path of a liberal Democrat. Because depression makes you a tad self-obssessed, you just assume that everyone in your inner circle has the same opinions you do.

In Conclusion

When you have depression — or go to breakfast with a parent — don’t take anything for granted. You’ll still probably put your foot in your mouth, but don’t take anything personally. After a few minutes of staring over the food plates, we laughed, had a bit of a talk and laughed some more.

People with depression often are far more sensitive to picking up the unspoken emotions of others. Even if they live alone, they can often pick up the vibe of the nieghborhood, or sense how people really feel just from talking to them on the phone. So, things were a wee bit tense around the Greater Philadelphia area (where I live) this past couple of weeks because the Phillies were in the World Series.

How I Did My Part

I do my part for Philadelphia sports teams by not watching them. I haven’t watched a single second of the Phillies 2008 season — and they wind up winning the World Series. Of course, that doesn’t explain why they won the World Series in 1980 and I watched nearly every game. (Yes — I am old). However, this is Philadelphia. Logic need not apply as to why the Phillies have a good or bad season.

The Night Air

Mom and I watched MSNBC while the game went on last night about a half hour away from where we live. Just before 10pm, the fireworks started. Mom said, “The Phillies!” but she has trouble walking now, so she switched the channels while I went outside with my dog, Pony.

Out in the night air, even over the fireworks, Pony barking and car honkings, were cheers. It wasn’t just my neighborhood yelling, it wasn’t just the town next door yelling — it was the whole city of Philadelphia yelling, too. It was great to loose myself in the moment when most of the area was finally happy rather than our usual shade of miserable. A couple of years ago, Philadelphia was voted “America’s Most Depressed City”. Not this year, baby.

The Moral Of The Story

If you have any type of depression, it can be too intense of an experience to follow a sports team. If it gives you happiness, then by all means go for it. But for some people like me, I get too personally involved. Suddenly, if my team isn’t winning, then the sky is falling. Part of this I think is because I can pick up on the emotions of all other fans when they are disappointed.

So, I stopped following sports teams. But if you have depression and your town’s sports team does well, go outside and join the parade or listen to the cheers in the biting cold night. It sure beats shock therapy.

WHINING ALERT

(You have been warned.)

Although you always have depression, some days it’s far more intense than others. This is one of those days for me. The international news is grim, the bad guys always seem to win and my Mom lost a good chunk of her retirement life savings on the stock market. (Hey, during the 1990’s, it seemed like a good idea to invest). My migraines have worsened and I cannot afford to buy triptans, which can help the pain. I wish I never had that free sample so at least I wouldn’t now know what I’m missing.

This is a setback. Setbacks are inevitable with any kind of mental illness. I call these setbacks “jags”. I have no idea where I picked up that term, but it’s stick in my tiny little mind and there you have it.

I’ve Done This Before

I keep reminding myself that I’ve been through these jags before and so can, logically, get through this one. That being said, I wish I could just spend the rest of my life curled up under the blanket with my dog.

I guess Mr. Spock wouldn’t approve that plan of action. Then again, I don’t think Mr. Spock ever had endogenous recurring depression. Yes, I know he’s a fictional character, but Hamlet was also a fictional character and he darn well showed all of the signs of clinical depression, so fictional characters can get depression, too.

So, I have Hamlet on one side talking to me and Mr. Spock on the other and my dog is at my feet looking at me for a Milkbone. How am I going to pay for her milkbones if I don’t get out of bed and off to work?

I Can Do This Again

Although it’s extremely hard, I’m trying to slog through the day, anyway. My problems are still going to be there, whether I put in a day’s work or not. If I don’t work, then I loose the day’s pay — on top of all my problems. That would make my problems a much bigger pile than before.

And, eventually, this latest jag will go away.

I just wish “eventually” would hurry up and get here.

When you live with depression, you can be tootling along for months and then all of a sudden you feel miserable, cranky and often suicidal. This can happen even when you are regularly taking your medication, eating a balanced diet and exercising regularly. A lot of people call these “setbacks”. I call them “inevitable.”

No One Time Cure

If you have depression and suddenly, for no reason, you’re just as depressed as you were before you went to get help, this does not mean that you have done anything wrong. The nature of depression is that some days it’s worse than others, despite all that you do. The good news is that these setbacks often go away after days or weeks, often as suddenly and as mysteriously as they came.

Despite what some drug manufactureres might have you believe, there is no once and for all cure for depression. Personally, I don’t even think death cures it because you wind up becoming just as miserable as a ghost or in the next life.

Anyway

Setbacks are annoying, but they don’t mean that you are doomed. They’re kind of like migraines. Eventually, they go away (if only for a few hours). Okay, perhaps that was a bad similie. Let’s try arthritis pains. Setbacks are like arthrits pains. They make you want to stay still. But one of the best ways to ease arthritis pain is to warm up the area and get moving.

Alright, perhaps there really isn’t anything comparable to depression setbacks. But they do go away. You have to keep dragging yourself through the day, but eventually you do feel better. Even being able to get out of bed and feed yourself is a great accomplishment when you’re going through one of these setbacks. And if you manage to go to work or school during a setback, that’s incredible. But it can be done. Pat yourself on the back for being able to fulfill your obligations even when you feel like poo.

If you feel like you can’t take it anymore, please talk to someone. Even talking to a stranger or a pet can help shake you from your misery enough to catch your breath and see that you can survive this and that things will inevitably get better.

There’s a very deadpan but funny animated series on YouTube by Lev Milnaz called “Tales of Mere Existence”. The one I’m recommending is “How to Cope with Depression”. For those of you familiar with “Tales of Mere Existence”, you will already know that the title is ironic.

One thing that is oh, so true is that not only will your family most likely also be as depressed as you are, but that you discover that far more people are more insane than you are. You can hug that knowledge to your chest at night like a teddy bear.

However, the film is a brilliant portrayal of why people with clinical depression don’t like to talk about it or feel as if they are aliens from another planet. This can make you even more isolated and withdrawn, which intensifies your symptoms of depression. So, the moral of the story is, “People suck.”

Uhh, well, no, I guess that’s not the moral, but it does give you comfort in knowing that you are not the only alien on this planet with depression.

(Mild warning: this video has adult language in it.)

As most of you readers know, I’m trying to think about coming up with a theme for my blog entries. A method to my madness, if you will.

Well, On this Thursday, the only thing that I can really think about is Thursday itself. I love Thursdays. Thursday is, and always has been, my favorite day. Thursdays make me think about wonderful and happy things; about puppies and kittens and butterflies — I mean, anything other than butterflies. When you have a horse who is scared of butterflies, you DO NOT THINK ABOUT BUTTERFLIES.

At any rate, all the things I think to make me happy are rolled into one big, happy ball of loveliness when Thursday pops into my mind.

And now, I must admit why.

Thursday is the day that my ass gets firmly implanted on my couch, a tub of ice cream gets firmly entrenched in my sweaty palms, and I WATCH TELEVISION.

Hours, and hours, upon hours, and more hours of mindless television.

On Thursdays, I have been known to put children in my charge to bed early so that I can make sure the junk food is in order for Survivor. I’ve been known to take the phone off the hook altogether starting when the clock nears eight. I’ve been known to lie, feign illness, switch shifts, and contemplate quitting jobs because Thursday nights are just that important to me.

And while some of this behaviour may seem a little over the top, a little intense or strange or Hell, even bordering on psychotic?

It doesn’t matter one bit.

Because I’ll be sitting with my ass firmly implanted in the couch, a tub of Haagen Daazs in one hand, remote control in the other, and I won’t have a care in the world.

I decided to give up drinking this summer because after a not-to-be-disclosed number of months, this is a portion of what came out of my bedroom last spring.

I posted here about my optimism about my break with beer, and here about my failure. I don’t think it was an utter and complete failure, but I failed in this goal nonetheless.

I decided not to go further in my quest for sixty five days of alcohol free goodness, because the pressure it put on me was just too much. I was completely restricting any contact with alcohol, and I think it was a bit like being on a diet. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and the fact that it was on my mind worried me all the time.

I’ve since had beer on three occasions: twice after work, I had one, and last night I went out with friends on a social galavant around the city.

At this point, I have to say that I am completely up in the air with regards to my feelings on this subject. I was so certain that after I had gone a length of time without drinking, I would be positive as to whether or not I should quit permanently.

It is a bad habit, of course, and so obviously it would be a good bad habit to give up altogether. But at the same time, it is something I enjoy, a social habit that I partake in.

I suppose that at this point, I’m monitoring my behavior: I don’t want my bedroom to have a grocery cart full of bottles in it by the time New Years’ rolls around. But at the same time, I don’t think I’m going to consider myself the biggest loser on the planet if I indulge in a wakness now and then.

This weekend was one of those weekends that goes about testing every bit of your mental and emotional strength. I’ve started working in a group home for boys aged 12-15, and I can’t get past how up and down, up and down, every single shift is.

Hardship is a regular part of every person’s life. You just can’t get around it in this world, be it personal issues, family issues, health issues, relationship issues… Issues abound and no matter what you do, you can’t avoid them. Unless you curl up in your bed with a magnum bottle of wine and refuse to come out until springtime.

Which I’ve only done once.

That I’m willing to admit.

At any rate, I’m on this roller coaster now, learning about myself and my abilities. The thing that I like most about hardships is that once they’re said and done, you know that much more about yourself, about who you are and what you stand for.

And I like it.

I have an intense fear of rejection. I’m cool with that.

I think one of the main reasons I’ve never tried to go anywhere with my music is a fear of rejection. My family and friends tell me I’m wonderful, and I’m glad because if they didn’t I would pack it in for good and never play again. The problem is that everyone’s family and friends have to tell them they’re wonderful. That’s just the rule.

My uncle in particular is very fond of my music, and frequently tells me to make more and more demo tapes to send to more and more companies. While it is nice that he has such faith in me, I just don’t think I can handle being told “Sorry, but you suck donkey balls and that screechy thing you’re doing to the microphone? STOP IT” at this point in my life. It would surely send me running for my oversized sweats (Not that there is much that doesn’t send me running for them) and weeping into my pillows for days.

In an attempt to preserve my mental health? I don’t take a lot of risks.

Well, the other day I got a package in the mail and at first I was sure it was a bomb from one of the dates I had last year who ended up being blog fodder. (Sorry, but if you bring your knitting on a date with me? You are blog fodder for YEARS. Suck it up.)

But, no. It was a package from a recording company sending me back the tape of mine that they didn’t want.

And you know, its one thing to be rejected when you ASK FOR IT. It is another matter entirely to be skipping merrily through life and then find out that you’ve been rejected without your knowledge.

Fortunately, since I had no time to prepare for this surprise rejection, I am simply making up my mind to ignore it altogether. THe power of denial is strong, and when my mind is made up to deny? The CIA would have trouble making me see eye to eye with the truth.

I was at the park last night, fishing with the kids from work. There was a couple there, looking oh-so-uncomfortable. The girl was trying desperately to look interested in what the nincompoop guy was blathering about. Every time I walked by her to search out a child or fetch more worms from the car, she gave me a desperate smile.

“Aw, a couple on a date…” I said to my co-worker.

He chuckled and said “Yeah…”

“I came on a date in this park once. It was nice.”

“Did you?”

“Yep. He gets married in February.”