Feeling Stuck

I always wanted to write a happy ending to my story. I just haven't found mine yet.  Im so upset that everything I've done so far hasn't given me any respite from recurrent episodes of depression.

I worked hard all summer landscaping and than got snow removal contracts to make my business viable all year round. Since second guessing my ability to provide for myself was one of the major themes that was bothering me I thought that overcoming this milestone would finally create a path of clear sailing. I felt minor symptoms of depression but I was happy that I was still working and still moving forward. I didn't find balance at that time and was using nicotine and redouble to help me cope with stress.

All the stress of worrying about winter work and second guessing my ability to run a bobcat and get up early to fulfill the contracts started getting to me.  I got through the first snow day pretty easily but I was miserable, proving to myself that I could succeed couldn't turn back the fact that my brain had shut down to feeling and connection and I was once again just surviving.  I started losing control of my thinking and emotions.  The world started closing in on me again. 

My whole life has become a response to depression.  I haven't been able to get out of bed lately until 1:30. By the time I get going, I know depression has won and I feel so powerless and defeated.

I maybe get 2 positive activities done in a day.  I'll go work out and do some art.  I hardly speak to anyone because I can't get out of this grey mindset and hold a conversation.

I want to do better.  I don't want to hide and let this monster win.  I want to believe that this is just a minor setback.  I just can't tell because it always feels awful.  Its stolen years of my life and when it comes around I just want to disappear.  I'm ashamed of myself for dealing with the same struggle over and over again.  I don't want to hear that its going to get better or its going to be ok, I want it to be ok right now. I don't like not knowing how long this is going to last.  I don't like just surviving, its not a life, it feels like a horrible punishment.

So right now I'm letting myself grieve for the loss of control I'm experiencing.  I have given everything and still ended up stuck.  I can only hope that creating a framework for a better life will eventually pay off and I'll feel that sense of accomplishment once this passes.  I have to live for the moments that remind me my spirit is still there even if it feels tiny.  

The Art Of Surrender

After 10 years of recovery, I can often forget what it means to "surrender my life and will" over to the care of my higher power.  It made sense when I first quit drinking and doing drugs.  My life was a nightmare, I lived in a creepy basement suite with rainbow coloured walls and guinea pig droppings in the spare room.  My drinking was insane, and I was no longer able to sweep it under the rug, windows where getting smashed, I was getting punched in the face,  fighting with the police and generally being a nuisance to myself, my family and society. 

Luckily for me, at 24 I landed in rehab, and was brainwashed into clean living.  I don't regret changing that aspect of my life for one moment.  I don't miss drugs or alcohol or the chaos that insued.  My life, my goals and my mental health aren't worth playing with, because I don't want to lose and that lifestyle could kill me.  

Today the word surrender is more vital than ever.  As a human being and a recovering alcoholic, there are so many things in life I find challenging.  I want things to go my way, and I struggle when theres conflict and challenge.  As long as I struggle to accept my current reality life is painful.

When I don't like the way people are acting, and take it personally, I hurt.  When my bank account balance is low, and I don't have winter work lined up, I panic.  When I wonder I'll ever love being single, my heart hurts. When I hate the fact that in spite of 10 years of counselling I  still have alot of negative self talk, and a hard time controlling my moodiness,  I feel powerless.

So much low vibe garbage, that is not serving me or my loved ones.

In order to have a good day, I have to let go of the past, and believe I made the best decisions I could with what I knew at the time.  I have to forgive myself for being imperfect.

I need to look at each problem and decide what I can do about it, and let go of the outcome.  

Here's some classic recovery jargon that makes sense:

"Faith without works is dead" 

"Magic is good for fairies and Elves, but God helps those that help themselves."

ADHD doesn't resolve itself over night.  Neither does depression, low self esteem or negative core beliefs.  Sadly, these mental issues can seem harder for me when I'm the process of growth and change.  I'm not always great at being my own cheerleader, I'm pretty aggressive and ruthless with myself at times.

All I know is that God is greater than whatever challenges I am  facing, and I need to stop trying to wrestle my problems into submission, because its exhausting and counter productive.  When I face my problems head on, do something productive about them and surrender the outcome I am set free from the bondage of self.  When I accept that I can't change my mistakes from the past and I have to start everyday from where I'm at without harsh judgement, I have a chance to be happy.

All I want in this life is to find inner peace and a big part of that is surrendering to the present and focusing on what is working in my life.  Once I find that positive momentum, the problems no longer seem so insurmountable, because I've let go of needing to control outcomes, and usually what God or the Universe has in store for me is much better than what I would have come up with on my own.

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.

Keepin' On

Well, the last 45 days, I've been at war with myself.  Hating depression, dreading waking up feeling empty, alone, even around people, and disconnected.

It all started with fear.  Having left my ex, I lost my financial security.   I was envious and down on myself when I went back to work with my beat up truck, and trailer, seeing that my ex had employees, a new truck, and tons of equipment.  I lost my gratitude for what I had and started thinking I could only be happy if I could be that successful again.

I also got down on myself about men.  I took a couple of bad experiences to mean that I wasn't worthy of being loved.  I put my sense of self worth in the hands of someone (I for some reason respected's) reactions to me.  I realized that was wrong but struggled to regain my footing in my new reality as a single woman.

I judged myself harshly, I compared myself to other people that don't struggle with depression and ADHD.  Instead of taking pride in my small successes, I just compared myself to bigger landscape construction companies, like I used to be part of.  Not really fair, I had given all of that up, to find myself.

Up until 45 days ago, I still felt like myself.  The struggle was still fair, Jeanne was still in the game.  I called friends, the distress centre, whatever I could to ward off the storms I saw in the distance.
I reminded myself that mental illness was triggered by stress and that I was going to be ok, I was doing the best I could.

But I felt unstable, the future was a big wide open canvas, and I was responsible for recreating my life, bigger and better than before.  I no longer had a more experienced human as my guide.  My ex was my rock in alot of ways.  He could get up everyday at 7 and face the world.  He took charge of situations and the company.  His sense of self was secure.  I took comfort in his strength, and leaned on him more than I knew.

Last Sept I knew I had to leave.  There was just no room for my opinions or ideas in the company.  I was belittled and bullied for not taking his side.   He wasn't completely wrong but the issues where nuanced and I wanted to be respected for my point of view.  One night in a deep depression, I remember talking about our foreman's disloyalty and standing up for some aspects of their conduct.  We were in our bedroom and I was getting yelled at, called a traitor, told I was supporting all of their insubordination, and I realized that I couldn't take it anymore.
My parents used to rage at each other in their room, and it just isn't really what I wanted in my life.

I don't know if we should have tried harder to fix the relationship, but I told him that if he wasn't going to own up to his behaviour without blaming me counselling was a waste of time.  So it just fell apart.  He moved out, took the company, convincing me in my depression and low self esteem I didn't deserve half of that asset, and he gave my mom's trust fund the title to the house, because it was already basically my asset.

My depression lifted a couple of weeks after the separation.  I started seeing number combinations everywhere, 1111, 333, 555... and  rainbow halos, which seemed like signs from my mom and the angels that I was on the right track.  An older lady moved in who had been through a horrible domestic situation, and she mothered me and helped me take care of the house.

I did have one depressive break down, that lasted a month mid January.  I was freaked out about spending my savings, and being an "artist" that didn't know how to put down roots.  I still haven't figured that out and its pretty unsettling.  That and the fact the guy I liked had zero interest in commitment, threw me back into a rut.  I magically got out of it within hours of doing ketamine in the US and I thought I had found my solution to this disorder that has plagued me most of my adult life.

Things went ok for 3 months, but the lingering doubts where still there in May.
I remember just feeling the depression gaining intensity and doing my best to let the waves roll over me, realizing that I was going through alot of change and that things where going well, with art markets, interest in my landscaping etc.  Then on mothers day, I lost the upper hand with the depression.  My mom had passed away four years ago and there was a memorial brunch set up by the Nature Conservancy of Canada, in her honour.  It was actually kind of a slap in the face because it felt like they were just sucking up to my family for selling the quarter section  of unbroken prairie she had donated to be conserved for cash, without even offering to sell it to the family in spite of our interest.  I remember being freaked out, that all consuming disconnection, emptiness and meaningless feeling was once again infiltrating every cell of my body.  Some primordial shut down was occurring, and I screamed inside for it to be reversed, that I'd rather feel any pain than lose myself to depression again.

The next day, I tried to tell myself everything was going to be ok.  I went snowboarding and painted some street art on an abandoned building.  I was definitely missing the guy I used to snowboard with that also loved street art.  I was missing my mom.  The depression had set in.  I tried to reassure myself, focus on doing snowboard tricks, telling myself I was going to be ok, but it was to late, the depression had once again over ridden my system and shut down huge aspects of my being.

For the last 45 days, I haven't gotten any relief.  I spend a small fortune in Denver on ketamine, but the depression just laughed at me for thinking a strong disassociative drug was going to release its grasp on me.  I came home feeling almost suicidal, because my depression is so treatment resistant.

I buried my disappointment and focused on work and just doing whatever it took to get through the day.  I'm still in that place, just existing, feeling bewildered by my powerlessness once depression gets a hold of me.

I guess its comforting knowing that there are reasons that this system was triggered again.  It doesn't really make it easy to reverse what has happened, but at least it kind of makes sense.  My hope is that the better I get to know myself, and the more I realize that everything is usually ok in the end, the less I'll be impacted my external situations and I'll have more trust in myself in how to handle different challenges.

Everytime I come through depression, I feel like I have been reborn.  I can't wait to see myself reclaim my power and own my independence, once this cloud finally lifts.  Until then, all I can do is try not to identify with it so completely.  Yes it's all consuming, but its not me.  Its a fucking weird malfunction I experience from stress.  With the help of time, medication, etc, it does pass.

Painted on the day I was fighting to stave off a depressive relapse and lost....the light in her soul has turned off temporarily... 

Depression is a mysterious condition....

There's nothing strait forward about depression.  Im stuck in a body with a brain that isn't working well and using that same system to try to make sense of what is going on.

All day long I feel a deep sense of detachment and isolation.  I'm just going through the motions, I know I'm supposed to shower, eat breakfast, go to work. Mindlessly I mow lawns, fix flower beds, do whatever I agreed to do.  I have enough fight in me to keep moving.  Somehow I move 6 yards of mulch with my shovel and wheel barrel.  I tell myself exercise is good for depression. I know that occupying my time is better than mourning the loss of my self.

I want to take action, do something, take some steps towards progress. I try to tell myself maybe changing my medications for the 20th time might do the trick, maybe that shiver I felt down my back means my neurotransmitters are working?  Maybe not eating gluten is going to to the trick? Yoga? Meditation? counsellor?

None of these things seem to make any difference, I've tried them all before, but the hope that comes from taking some small action keeps me moving through the day.  Today I told myself getting a massage would bring me some relief, so I pushed through....I didn't really get alot of relief but the idea that I'm trying is something for my mind to hold onto.

Tommorow, I'll get up and possibly feel the same bleakness but call the neighbour and work on adding some flagstone to her yard and adding some shrubs.  One hard task after the other, digging clay, moving rock, planting shrubs and trees....I just keep moving.

I don't really know what else to do....once I'm having a full episode of depression, all of the self realizations and tools seem to have very little impact.  I feel like my brain is getting some upgrades done and the whole system is at a stand still until its ready to reboot.

There's been times when medical interventions have sped up the reboot process, but it seems like everything only works once.  I've tried different treatments and had initial success and than tried the same thing for a subsequent episode and gotten no results.

All I know is this is fucking crazy.  I am stuck feeling disconnected, numb, uninspired with a constant tape running through my head that I'm depressed.  I hear that I'm supposed to be social to help my condition, but I've had so many painful experiences just sitting at a restaurant staring into space, knowing that Jeanne isn't really there and the other person has to sit there silently with depressed me or try to engage me in conversation to only get one word answers.  I keep hoping all of a sudden the healthy me will spring forth and save the day, but she is no where to be found.

I don't hate myself, I'm not super self critical, but I know that there's something wrong all day.  I can try to ignore it and focus on doing the next right thing, but that sense of loss is pretty real.
My whole system has been hijacked and I have no recourse but to wait.

Everything is a shot in the dark with depression.  Doctors really don't know what the medications or treatments do they just have theories.  The whole thing relies on faith.  I just have to believe that something is going to shift or click and I'll get myself back.  My sense of humour, my intelligence, my sense of purpose and connection can't be gone, but the light-switch in all of those rooms is out.  I'm running with very little lit up on the circuit board.

So I hold on, I'm a bench warmer in my own life, restless to be let back in.

Ditching the Need to be Happy 24/7

I'm so sick of thinking there's something wrong with me from the moment I open my eyes.
It's like I've bought into this faulty idea from society that if I play all my cards right, live up to my potential and continually strive to improve my life I will be happy all the time.  Everyday will be magical, full of white light and rainbows.  Synchronistic events will continue to unfold and life will look like a techocolor movie and I will be the protagonist.  Meanwhile back in Jeanne land, I wake up to mixed emotions and some lingering sadness and fear, but ultimately I feel hopeful.

This really should be good enough. It works in the ocean and large bodies of water, the tides fluctuate in temperature, and lakes have warm and cool currents.  I'm always happy and at peace in lakes in the summer and I appreciate swimming through water that has been warmed by the sun and the refreshing cooler water.  So why can't I accept this in my own mental state?

 I'm a moody, colourful, messy artist.  Life is amazing, but it's bittersweet. I've won at love and I've lost.  I'm alone, figuring out my career and how to be happy as a single person.  Yet, I expect perfection from myself, a level of mastery over my thoughts and emotions that seems to be constantly evading my grasp.

The problem comes down to lack of acceptance and an unrealistic expectation that I should be happy all the time or else I'm at risk of a depressive relapse.  Of course thats a scary thing to have to contend with because its been literal hell in the past. Depression is like being stuck in a thunderstorm, and taking shelter under a boulder, only to realize I'm drenched, freezing and trapped.  My soul cry out in agony as I await a guide to lead me to higher ground.

With this past experience, its not surprising that I don't like feeling tired, sad or scared.  Unfortunately for me this is part of life, and I refuse to give into the thought that I can't handle the cooler waters that are a realistic part of the human experience.  I need to accept that waking through adversity with self compassion is the path to freedom.

Without acceptance, there is no recovery.  Life becomes a constant fight within my own mind. There's no point being upset with myself.  I've gone through alot of change.  I walked away from the financial security I had found in my common law marriage.  I lost opportunity, status, money and prestige.
Now I have to find it on my own.  I have to face my ugly self realization that I put men on a pedestal in relationships and business.  That I somehow think I need them to take care of me, when I've been disproving that everyday by becoming successful on my own terms.

So today, I choose acceptance. I chose to love the beautiful, messy and moody monster that I am. I choose to love the scared, self doubting parts of my psyche.  I remind myself that I am enough, that I am worthy and that I can love myself as I transition and grow.