Waking Up...

Its 7:07 am, and I'm drinking coffee.  This doesn't really sound remarkable, but after 2 months of struggling to get out of bed by noon, its a small feat.  Did I do anything differently? Did I will myself out of depression?  Nope, not really.  I just woke up, realized I didn't feel nearly as burdened and decided to get up and write instead of shirking back to bed.

Depression is an epic nightmare.  The nicest people try to relate, telling you to manifest better mental health. They give you strategies for mountain climbing, which is a difficult sport, but they can't see that you have an invisible 50 pound weight attached to your back.  They see life like mountain climbing, which is tough for beginners and give you the pep talk they'd give any beginner.
They don't understand that without depression, you'd crush anything you took on, they just use their frame of reference.

They say 1 in 5 people may experience depression.  I've talked to hundreds of people and I think that's true, but I think the stats are that high because they're talking about situational depression.  You lose the career you've strived for, you lose your life partner, you are shaken to the core and you need to re establish meaning....

I think about 5-10% of people know the gut wrenching, inexplicable pain of having depression that lingers, in spite of treatment, sometimes for months, sometimes for years. An insidious all encompassing mental illness that can return with very little provocation.   There are those who tell me they get it, that it's hell in spite of everything, that it's one painful step in front of the other despite the unrelenting suffering of having a brain that isn't fully functioning and certainly isn't generating any feelings of contentment even when stimulated.  It's like looking up at the other mountain climbers, wanting to ascend but feeling unable to get anywhere substantial.  Maybe getting 10-20 feet up the wall with all the weight to constantly lose your footing in the same spot.

Today I'm still uncertain as to whether I'm getting out of the woods.  My favourite Reiki master texted me out of the blue yesterday morning and reminded me I basically have to surrender.  I've done what I can, I've sought medical treatment, tried a few alternative measures and gone to counselling.  I've shown up for my life despite all the pain it's caused me to not feel like I'm really participating.

Time and powerful concepts like surrender,  and realizing I've done everything I can, are what it takes to make things easier.  Its watching those other mountain climbers and realizing they have no frame of reference for how hard I'm struggling.  The fact that anyone with depression is even showing up despite the lack of understanding of an invisible illness is strength beyond comprehension for the average person.

Yesterday I stopped going over my treatment plan for the 10000th time.  I just gave myself credit that I wasn't being a wimp, and that it wasn't my fault that I didn't know how to get the 50 pound weight off my shoulders.  I'll do the same today, and with any luck this thing is shifting.  If not, the gift of not feeling burdened, even for a few minutes is an inexplicable comfort, and a source of strength to keep putting one foot infront of the other....

Darn I can't get past this spot.....

Am I backsliding?

I had a difficult week.  It's 3:30 on Sunday and I just got out of bed.  My whole life has become a reaction to depression, its all consuming.  Im scared I'm gonna let this continue.

My Dad got on me last week about my depression.  Told me basically I needed better help, and thought maybe I needed to go to rehab for doing ketamine at a Doctor's office.  He found me a psychologist to talk to who specializes in addiction and mental health who I ironically already see.  Looks like the universe is telling me that I'm doing my part on the whole getting help scene.  I also signed up for genetic testing for antidepressants because I've tried prozac, zoloft, select, cipralex, effexor, and cymbalta and had them stop working in 6-9 months.  So I'm either bipolar, with mostly recurrent depression,  or have super treatment resistant depression.

So the psychologist didn't have any easy answers for me either.  She told me I was doing well, because I was still landscaping, i.e. cleaning up millionaires yards, exercising, eating well etc.
She said I should pray for patience, and try to accept these downtimes as part of my life and a time of reflection. She told me staying somewhat  functional and not making things worse was winning and that I was actually doing a good job.

I guess I already knew that, but theres a little kid inside me that wants Jeanne back so bad.  She doesn't want to wait and be patient and have faith Jeanne's coming back.  After 8 weeks she wonders if my spirit is ever gonna return.  Staying in bed seems better than having to push through a difficult and troubling existence.

The hardest part of this week was doing an art market on Friday.  I actually think that set me back alot.   I had hoped I might connect to people or make some sales and I did neither.  I struggled to engage people in conversation or make eye contact.  I'd made beautiful things but it felt like my art was as dreary as I was, that it was somehow infested with depression as well.  I was so tired and discouraged I didn't return the next day.  The fact that something that made me so happy in the recent past was a source anguish and hopelessness was unbearable.

In some ways my depression is winning.  Its telling me nothing makes me feel better so why bother.  That it's better to stay in bed all day than to face another dreary day.  But maybe there was some value in giving in for awhile.  Its exhausting constantly pushing myself to do more than the minimum and keep up with my landscaping commitments.  Its awful because I don't get more than a 3% increase in mood, and it's not accumulative day in and day out.

But that 3% is worth something.  Even if my body, mind, soul are all consumed by depression, the fact that I'm rebelling enough to keep moving is winning.  I really hate schedules, but I think making one this week might be worthwhile.....I think everyday instead of sleeping 12-14 hours and working 6, I need to set up some better activities like swimming, yoga, painting etc.

When I'm doing stuff I used to love, I'll get glimpses of myself, and maybe forget I'm depressed for a minute or two as a marvel at the light dancing at the bottom of the pool, or trying to swim faster than the kids in swim club.  When I'm painting, I'll surprise myself with my ability to mix colors and manipulate space, light and shadows.

Pyschologists teach people to realize they have thought distortions, and to address them.  I used to think that if I did that, my depression would disappear.  Either I'm terrible at it, or I had the wrong objective.  Changing my thoughts doesn't get rid of my depression, because that was never the cause in the first place.  I'm a pretty positive person when I'm not experiencing an episode.  I'm honest with whats going on for me, I go to 12 step meetings, I discuss my thoughts and perceptions with wiser souls and can laugh at myself.

So the real challenge is to have different expectations from watching my thoughts.  It means not comparing what I can do when I'm well to what I'm doing now, and feeling like I'm coming up short.  It's being proud of myself for doing what I can to contribute to life, even if it's only 40-50% of what I could do before.  It means not beating myself up for being so withdrawn and antisocial.
It's realizing that I'm still here and I may not feel purposeful but the fact that I'm alive and breathing means I have more to learn and contribute to life.  So checking my thoughts isn't getting rid of the depression, its about not letting it get worse, so that it's easier to break free when this illness has run it's course. It's about making my life more bearable.

It does feel better to contribute in some small way than to hide in bed.  The guilt and shame of giving into depression make days like today harder, not easier.  It takes it's toll and the message that this is futile really takes over.  Even as I write this, I'm telling myself I don't have the energy to pull myself together and figure out how to be functional next week.  Its gonna be hard to get myself back in order, but I need to reign this in, and fight back.


The idea of planning meals and going grocery shopping sounds like running a marathon, but I'm going to do it today.  I'm going to go to the pool.  I'll come up with a plan  to honour the commitments I made for landscaping next week and get a few things ready for the next art sale, on Friday, which is shorter and my sister plans to help me with.

I don't think any of this is easy, backsliding is way easier.  But it's also very painful, because I'm losing ground to my illness, and I'm giving up the small amount of power I have.  My mind is telling me it's not worth fighting to stay in the same place, but in reality the further I let my life slide into disarray, the more work its gonna take to get back on track.

Art always comes through even in the darkness.