Grasping at Straws

Sometimes that's all we have, grasping at straws and hoping for the best.   This depression journey I've been on lately has, frankly, kicked my ass.  I cannot tap out, I cannot wave a white flag, I cannot resign.  All I can do is keep moving forward one freaking baby step at a time.  A few weeks ago I wrote that the fog is starting to lift, that I'm starting to see burn holes in the dense deep darkness and that is true. I am not seeing them as fast as I want to, but they are there and getting bigger.  That goes to an important point, it's not about what I want here. While I love the illusion of control that I grip until my fingers shake, I know it's an illusion.  Whatever your spiritual leanings are, there is someone up there who wants me to learn from this-or teach from it.  So fine, freaking tiny, wobbly baby steps it is. 

It's funny the different rabbit holes I go down when I'm grasping for straws.  Here is the rabbit hole about grasping for straws.  According to the Word Detective, the phrase grabbing or grasping for straws dates back to the late 1700s in a proverb from Samuel Richardson. "A drowning man will grab at a straw" the straw being the reeds at the side of a river in a desperate attempt to save yourself.  I've been laughingly describing to Elizabeth that I'm not grasping at straws but that she is a straw.  But now that I see the original meaning it's not so funny, I am grasping at everything to stop me from drowning in depression.

I heard about Elizabeth from my friend Jen.  She is an intuitive healer. If you listen to Sweet 98 (sorry, I know it's been like 15 years, but it'll always be Sweet 98) she and her brother Psychic Andy are on occasionally. Anyway Jen said a friend of hers had an amazing session with Elizabeth so I thought I'd try it.  It's hard to explain what Elizabeth does.  She is an intuitive healer.  Please check out her website, even though my words cannot do justice to what she does, she is wonderful.  http://www.healingsbyelizabeth.com 

In my first session with Elizabeth she was able to pinpoint some things for me that were shocking.  She knew things that there is no way someone could just know.  Both times we talked for about 20 minutes, then she gets to work.  She has me lay down on what seems to be a twin sized bed and relax.  My only job is to breathe deeply and she does her work.  After about 15 minutes she wakes me up (yes I fell asleep) and talks about the energy blocks she's cleared and what she will do next.  After the next 15 minutes she again describes what she does and I leave, with a bounce in my step. 

She has a wonderful voice and describes white energy and gold energy and wrapping me up in positivity and healing energy to go and face the week.  I do not understand how she works, what I do know is that things are different for me.  Something in this journey has changed me. She said she's clearing out old negativity and old trauma and replacing it with white energy. Somewhere in this process I have found the courage to move forward more creatively.  I have been writing again, not just blogging but getting back into poetry. I have started painting. I have been more assertive with my feelings and when I am hurt I have been better able to vocalize it rather than choke it down.  All of these things are terrifying but they feel right for me, they feel healing.

There are a few other straws I've been grasping at, but sharing my journey with Elizabeth is enough for today. What are you doing to take care of yourself? What inner voice have you avoided or ignored that is crying out for its own voice?  There is no such thing as silly or dumb when the life you are trying to save is your own.

Once Upon a Time...

I have to admit sharing this journey has been overwhelming.  I have had total support and love. I have had shock and surprise.  I have had a few people accuse me of sensationalizing my story and enjoying it too much.  The last one is the most hurtful and frankly to me it's the most surprising.  I have hoped that by sharing what I'm going through people who need help will see that there are resources available and that even the people among us who seem the happiest may need help now and again. 

To the haters or anyone who thinks that I'm sensationalizing my life.  Awesome, please keep thinking that.  That sentiment says more about you than about me.  Perhaps there is something in your life that needs examining.  I will stop thinking about it, I will stop feeling bad because it's not about me anymore.   Criticism is never easy to take which I why I haven't really shared much of my creative writing, I've been a poet since I was 16 and am considering submitting something for publishing but the thought of criticism is terrifying.  But that's a story I tell myself, that someone will criticize me.

In life there are choices we make that determine our futures and tell us how best to remove ourselves from our past.  In storytelling there is a psychological connection we make.  According to Psychology Today stories are about collaboration and connection and engage us through passion, sadness, joy and hardship.  Stories are how we think, it's how we make meaning and how we make decisions.  So in my story telling I'm processing the mental hurdles of dealing with depression and how to still function in life.  I'm trying to connect all the dots that make me who I am.  I'm trying to figure out what stories are true and what stories are invented.

How do you talk to yourself? What stories do you tell that are fiction? What movies run in your head when you are scared? How do you justify your existence in your head? What do you do to make sense of your days?

Making Friends

I wondered this morning how, if depression is going to be a part of me for the rest of my life, I can make a relationship work with it. How can I make friends with depression? This idea came about because in church this morning the pastor read a call to action about the tragedy in Charleston and I was overcome, I couldn't speak and had tears streaming down my face and I started to panic.  Oh no, the medication isn't really working the depression is back and in charge.  A gentle voice said to me, no dear this is sadness.  Very different things, sadness I can do and depression is manageable. 

So I wondered how I can come to peace with this, how can I develop a relationship with this permanent passenger.  According to the internet I need to Focus on Others, Not Myself, Be Genuine and Pay Attention.  Thinking about focusing on Others I realized I needed to interview Depression to see what she's thinking, really get to know her so let's start. 

Hi Depression, what's your real name? I like to go by Sadly McDepresserstein, you can stick with just calling me  Depression.

Do you have any hobbies? I like ruining parades by raining, I like making it so hard to get out of bed you want to cry-are those hobbies? Oh and I like to make it so hard to do anything that all you can do is breathe and count bricks. 

So what do you look like? You described me pretty well a few weeks ago, for you I'm a fine gray weighted fog that is dragging you down, I like to wrap my self around your ankles so that it feels like you are always walking in knee deep mud.  I don't think I have a specific look but to think of me as a demented Eeyore seems to resonate the most with you. 

What about a favorite book or movie?  Anything that makes you feel sad or lingers with you, anything that makes you sink deeper into me, oh, my favorite is anything that makes you feel like your life is terrible--that's my best. 

What do you do for fun? I like to make you watch surprise military homecoming videos until you have snot bubbles, I like to overwhelm you in church by injustice and tragedy and I really enjoy showing you how alone you are with proposal and happy family videos. 

You are an asshole, you know that? Now that's no way to talk to someone you are trying to be friends with.

Yea, but my friends are kind to me, they love me and they will do nearly anything for me.  Maybe friends was unrealistic. 

So let's see, we've learned that you enjoy dragging me down, you like hurting me and your joy is in my tears, so why me? What did I do?  This isn't personal.  This is just chemistry, these are the breaks kid. You are the one with the right brain type to really screw with.  Everyone has to have a hobby you are mine. 

Even in my imaginary conversations Depression is an ass.  And no one worry, the above was for information and humors sake, I am not talking to Depression in my kitchen.  Things are slowly getting better, there are baby steps and bright spots which is all anyone can ask for.  So I haven't made friends with depression but I know that I can feel it there and I have more awareness.  That's a start. 

I appreciate so many people caring about the journey and if I can help anyone then this is worth it.  Things keep looking up, I'm finding my center again and as always the sun will come out again.

The Thin Blue Line

Depression is still a total bitch.  I think that the anti-depressant changes are finally working. It is so annoying though, and frankly pisses me off.  Last week, in describing the fog and wading through knee deep mud to no particular destination, I wasn't too far off course for where I am now.  Although as things start to rebalance I see snatches of sun, hoping against hope that the fog is burning off and going to clear.

I did go see my therapist last week, she is a wonderful person and has helped guide me through some pretty tough waters and gotten me safely through.  She told me something that rattled me to my core, that the PTSD that I managed through changes someone far more than just emotionally.  There are physical changes to the brain chemistry. The hippocampus, amygdala, and the ventromedial prefrontal cortex all function differently in someone with PTSD. So not only do I have to deal with my broken brain, but trauma makes me more sensitive to these swings and there is a chance that I cannot recover as quickly.  I will continue to go down this rabbit hole I'm sure but for now it's scary to know that this may just be the new normal when the anti-depressants stop working, that it'll hit this hard.

Depression is highly personal, some people sleep, some people eat, some people pretend nothing can break them.  One of the things I do is not sleep, but just lay in bed.  I've spent hours laying on my side in my beautiful apartment staring at the wall.  I can tell you that there are roughly 38 rows of bricks from the oak beams to the floor.  There are 10 bricks in the row where the brick are laid long way and 22 bricks where they are laid the short way.  I can tell you how many books are on each shelf, I can tall you the precise location of every knickknack from the hours spent staring at them.  I can tell you the precise location of each vein in my left wrist, the faint blue lines and exactly which way to cut to make sure that the pain goes away.  As terrifying as it is admitting that to all of you, it is terrifying to actually feel it.  I promise it's better this week, I promise I know the things to do when it is that dark.  I promise I have support.  And I got something for me this week on my left wrist to remind me that there is always tomorrow.

Surfing

Trying to avoid the big waves

The swells come closer and closer

Until I'm under, scraping knees and coughing

Salt and I open my eyes to carpet and

The legs of the chair and a sea of tears

The swell moves in again as I drag

Myself to my feet, resisting pull of the ocean

Scan the horizon anxious for the next 

Tsunami as I move slowly to the kitchen

Wading to the sink, despite the storm

There are dishes to be done.

                                                  Michelle Huber 2015

My own personal Bell Jar

Depression sucks.  I'm not talking about the occasional blues or feeling sad because the sun hasn't been out lately, but depression, that soul sucking, life draining Dementor who lives inside some of us.    There is a secret for you, I've suffered for years with major depression.  I'm far from alone, according to the Internet there are 16 million adults who suffer with depression.

“The trouble was, I had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn't thought about it.” 

― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Some people face situational depression, something horrid and debilitating impacts their life and with the help of a therapist, God and/or pharmaceuticals they get through it and are free on the other side, wiser and prescription free.  For some of us though it's much more of a permanent condition, major depressive disorders impact us very differently and are a part of our daily lives. 

"I didn't know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of the throat and I'd cry for a week.” 

― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Essentially our brains are off, through a combination of genetics, environment and psychological factors my brain doesn't function like everyone elses.  Popular convention (and the Internet) says that those of us who suffer for the long term with depression don't have enough serotonin receptors in our brains so we don't function normally.  Serotonin has been described as "oil" for the brain. Imagine not replacing the oil in your car, you'd damage the engine, over heat and essentially stop the car.  Similar things happen with a lack of serotonin.  Your mind will race, sleep is off, you have no patience, no energy, sex is repellent and then the wonderful negative scripts start about how the world would be better without you.  It's a viscous cycle. 

“I felt very still and empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.” 

― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

I was diagnosed with depression shortly after my divorce, hoping it was situational and I'd be able to go off the Prozac very quickly.  That was 16 years ago and I've cycled on and off almost every offering from Big Pharma because, unlike some people, the anti-depressant stops working for me between 3-5 years after I take it and I'm thrown back down the well.  Cycling on and off of the medications can be a long process.  Realizing that they've stopped working takes about 6-8 weeks for me to admit it, then it's 2-3 weeks coming off one pill and another 2-3 weeks to see if the new one works.  If it doesn't work then there is another 2-3 weeks with a new pill until the right dosage is found. 

I can hear people in my head telling me to stop being so melodramatic, this is personal, and I should keep it that way, cry on the inside, smile on the outside.  Aren't you being too dramatic? You have a great life, a great home, a job you are good at, wonderful friends and family-what do you have to be sad about. It's deeper than sad, it's bone crushing.  And if I don't share my story then I can't help anyone else who may not know what's wrong.

“I was supposed to be having the time of my life.” 

― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

So to me depression feels like a fog wrapped around me and something I drag behind me weighing me down, every step heavy through mud. Everything is muted.  All of the literature says that depression interferes with your life, you cannot focus, you cannot think, you don't care about anything. All of this not caring leads to exhaustion and sleeping. I can testify, that is all true. Life becomes exhausting, just existing is overwhelming.  I have mentally written hundreds of suicide notes. I've plotted out pills, opening a vein, wrecking my car or jumping off a building.   Normal people don't do that, normal people don't try and figure out how to end their lives without ruining their friends and family.  These thoughts are always click clacking around in my brain and usually are quickly dismissed. Except when I’m trapped in the fog, they take on weight and substance.  The words have meaning and broken brain or not they have to be talked about.

  

But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so white and defenseless that I couldn't do it. It was as if what I wanted to kill wasn't in that skin or the thin blue pulse that jumped under my thumb, but somewhere else, deeper, more secret, and a whole lot harder to get.” 

― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Let me say, I know this is a chemical imbalance and has nothing to do with anything other than what I call my broken brain. But the feelings are still very real, the pain exists and the hopelessness weighs down like an elephant on your chest.

  

“I couldn’t see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.” 

― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

So this time through I am coping in a slightly different way.  I am not sleeping around or over eating or purging or hiding at home. I am talking to my friends.  I am working out. I have cut out sugar. I have asked for help.  Most importantly I have a dialog with my doctor to adjust the medications quickly.  I'm on week 5 of new meds. The first didn't work so we are on day 3 of the new one.  

Now the work that you need to do. If any of this resonates you, especially if you’ve been dealing with it for a long time, seek help. Call your doctor, call a friend, tell someone you are hurting.  I promise that although the process is painful, there is light at the end of the tunnel.  If you have someone in your life who is depressed, withdrawn and changed don't just tell them to "cheer up" or that "the grass is greener on the other side" or whatever platitude seems applicable, this is so much bigger than a hot bath and a glass of wine.  If you don't know where to turn, there are a many online resources to get you started.  

http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org

http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/depression/index.shtml

http://www.psychiatry.org/mental-health

But above all we have hope, this doesn’t have to be forever.  The sun will shine again, the birds will sing and somehow we can come through this.

Flying, Part 2

I was having lunch this week with one of my favorite people and we were talking about how pissed off we are that as smart successful people we keep doing the same thing over and over with food (seeking comfort) instead of the "heathy" things we have learned that are supposed to help us get through.  There are so many great avenues out there, mediation, yoga, journaling, talking to friends, taking a walk, taking a nap, or any of a thousand other things that we've decided are better for us than old habits. 

I've talked about how we are flying without a net and that we have to figure new way to cope.  She said that it's the feeling the feelings that is the problem, we fuss and ponder but we don't quite know how to feel the feelings.  Numbing feels better than being angry or sad or lonely or disappointed.

I sprang out of bed this morning thinking about that very thing when once again my own abandonment and sadness issues crept in, I immediately went running back to sugar. Sugar is my personal enemy because I know it makes me nuts.  I jumped out of bed because I realized that we survived whatever it is we are trying not to feel.  We made it through so why should the feelings for something we already dealt with haunt me, why do I still react or more accurately why do I try and shut down? I am still here, the feelings are an echo that my brain wants to keep because there is temptation to go back to what happened and relive it.  My own personal temptation is to try and keep myself down, the comfort level that keeps me miserable and unhappy because that's what I already know. 

Of course I screwed up that meeting, have a cookie.  Of course he's going to leave me, have ice cream. Of course the pants don't fit, have a cake.  My brain is working against me,  the old me in my brain is trying to stay with what we think we know best.  Which has, lets be honest, been less that stellar thus far. Sure we lived, sure we have had success but what happens if we let go of this self destruction and actually embrace our inner light. The following is from Marianne Willamson and it is hard to read because she is right, playing small does not serve the world, it does not serve our soul, it does not serve each other.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” --Marianne Williamson 

Flying Without a Net

I'm overwhelmed by the kindness of all of you. I posted an embarrassing and humbling story last week and I don't even have words for the love I got back to me.  Thank you.  I got stories back about so many of you going through something similar and it was touching and so wonderful to talk to other people who knew exactly what I was going through. It was a lot of great conversations about body image, our own worth and what we do to ourselves. 

In talking about this with a friend we discussed removing food as a source of comfort. Once you do that then what? I told her that I was flying without a net, I didn't have any idea of how to comfort myself.  I didn't know how to make any of the bad feelings go away.  Exercise doesn't work yet, sleep (while lovely) eventually ends and I've put food off limits.  There goes all the self comfort that I know.  So I am ignoring it for now, pretending that everything is ok and that I'm happy and that I'm not constantly thinking of how to get my hands on donuts or ice cream.  Mostly I'm thinking about how I can be stronger than the thought that pops into my head that Winchell's is 24 hours and I have cash.

Eventually I have faith, I hope that I can learn new skills to cope. Or maybe, just maybe actually feel a feeling instead of trying to make it go away.  But if I'm flying without a net, I need to make small movements-self preservation always wins.