Depression

Depression – it’s not all a barrel of laughs.

I woke up this morning with that thought, or something like it, running through my brain. It’s currently 6:49am and I’ve been wrestling with those thoughts for over an hour so I finally decided to get out of bed, write and get them out.

As you may have noticed, this has been a pretty crap year for me so far. Which bugs me because it’s supposed to be “my year” – it’s the Year of the Rabbit, and I’m a Rabbit! And Rabbits are supposed to be really lucky!  But nooooooooooooooooooo….

I was depressed before this year started, but I think things have gotten worse. I’ve been in therapy and on and off of a light dose of Lexapro for a few years now (ever since I had a boss who LITERALLY drove me crazy). It all started because I was just angry all the time. I’m a pretty happy type of person generally speaking, so when I realized that I was pissed off at everybody and couldn’t control it, I thought maybe, just maybe, there was a problem. Especially when I also realized that I was taking out my anger on my friends and for no apparent reason. (Yeah, depression is fun: you don't take it out on the people who really deserve it, you save it all up for yourself and your loved ones...)

My family have a history of depression which helped my self-diagnosis, but even more importantly, helped me feel comfortable seeking help. It was something like: I need help, therefore I will get help! It was also fortunate that I had been told "if one therapist doesn’t work for you, try, try again!" I had tried a psychiatrist years before and been told that my parents had abused me because I had been born in Hong Kong and moved around a lot as a kid. Funny thing was that the person who told me this was a foreign-born national who had moved around a lot as a kid. Hmmm, projection much?

ANYWAY – I was very lucky to find a great psychiatrist who has even become my talk therapist after a disastrous attempt with someone else who decided I had PTSD… because that was her specialty.  *sigh*

…

And I’m doing it again. I have a tendency to start talking about something and then veering off into tangents. They might be related, but they aren’t really the point with which I started. Ever noticed that? ;-)

…

What I started out writing about this morning was what’s going on with me now and how it’s not a whole lot of fun. I have gotten almost paralyzed socially, but I think I hide it well until something comes up that makes it impossible to hide. Like these last two weekends.u

Las weekend I almost backed out of going to (very good) friend’s birthday party because a) I might have to stay over night and b) a lot of people I don’t know would be there. I had really bad allergies and felt miserable, but I made myself get off my couch and get out there. Luckily, another friend offered me a ride so I didn’t have to drive OR stay overnight -- I had already gotten myself into “go to the party” mode on my own, but that helped a lot! I had a great time and even played horse shoes for the first time!

Last night I was planning to go to a party with friends I haven’t seen in YEARS for a semi-reunion of sorts, in honor of another friend’s birthday.  I was really looking forward to seeing everyone again and hanging out with them. So, I woke up yesterday with what I thought was a bad hangover. Yes, I drank a lot on Friday night, but I stopped around 12:30am and got food and drank water. I was home by 1:30am and drank more water, took Advil, and was asleep by 2am. I woke up around 9am, made Toad-in-the-Hole (my new favorite breakfast), then sat on the couch and caught up with work and stuff. And suddenly, I felt chills and fever and just felt awful. I took some allergy drugs and then a nap and still felt crappy. I again thought it was just a bad hangover and allergies (the weather changed considerably between Friday and Saturday), so I thought getting up and out of the house might help.  So, I went to a movie (“Money Ball” – quite enjoyable).

Enjoyed the movie, walked around the street fair a little, then got a coffee and came back home. And within 30 minutes was back in bed, under the covers, shivering and snuggling with my warm, fuzzy kitty. I took some cold drugs and then slept for a few more hours.  Woke up and called my friends and told them that I was just feeling too lousy to go to their party after all.

And today, I feel a lot better physically, but I wonder if all of that “illness” was just anxiety? Depression? 

My depression isn’t one of those where I have to convince myself each morning that I really should not kill myself. It’s much less demanding than that. Or maybe not – because it’s really more of just having to convince myself to get out of bed. No, I can do that when it’s work I have to get to, but if it’s a social thing, then it really takes an effort for me.  And I’ve noticed that it has gotten REALLY hard for me to get my butt off of my couch and exercise. I’m signed up to do the Marine Corps Marathon (MCM) 10k at the end of this month. I’ve been signed up since June and I will be running with my nieces and nephew in honor of my brother… but I can NOT get myself to work out and train for it!

Why?

I don’t know.

And it upsets me.

Maybe I should do as Professor Hathway suggests and “up the voltage” heehee

Just ... get over it!

I can’t believe I said that to someone.

Especially someone who was obviously hurting, someone who is obviously suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome.

But…

He was an asshole and he didn’t listen and he just would. Not. Shut. UP!

OK, back story:

I met this guy a couple of weeks before I started my temporary relocation to Georgia.  He’s somewhat attractive, and he seemed intelligent and interesting.  My first thoughts were “Of course! I meet a great guy RIGHT before I move 650 miles away!”  But, luckily, the other side of my brain kicked in and reminded me that I had just met him and didn’t know a thing about him and really shouldn’t jump the gun on thinking “he’s the one” or anything stupid like that.

I saw him the next week and laughed with him that we had both been somewhat inebriated that first meeting, so I was kinda glad to meet him semi-sober.  Haha, silly goose!  It was about 7pm, and he was soused already.  But, we still had a fairly decent conversation.  But he told me some more of his story and I felt sorry for him (alcoholic parents, one of whom commit suicde when he was young), and then he talked about being embedded with troops in Iraq and how that affected him.  I suggested that he try therapy since it’s done wonders for me, but noooooo, he’s not having someone “shrink” him.  I mentioned again how it would be nice to meet him sober, and he just looked at me and said, “Sober.  Yes, that’s what I should do.  Get sober.”

I looked at him, and said, “Maybe that IS what you need to do. “

As it happened, I had been talking to a now-sober friend of mine shortly before that and she had given me information on AA meetings and a hotline and stuff like that.  I mentioned some of this to him and he was just sooooo thankful… as he ordered another drink.

Boy am I glad I’ve got that other side of the brain.  That boy is MEEEEEESSED UP! (I actually use a more succinct yet not-PG turn of phrase, but… you get the drift.)  He’s a journalist who used to cover the wars, but recently took on a new job with some really rich Indians so that he doesn’t have to go back to the desert, but he hates that job.  He is depressed, but refuses therapy, and he self-medicates by getting drunk, really drunk, I’m talking slurred words, squinty eyes, loss of motor function/brain kind of drunk… every night.  But he still has enough brain power to argue whatever his point is by shouting down the opposition.

When I was back in DC last time, I saw him a couple of times and it just was not good.  The guy has serious problems, and I just don’t know how to deal with them.  Or, whether I *should* deal with them.  I mean, I’m no picnic, and I have been known to hoist a few here and there… but, I think I’m a responsible drunk, er, drinker (“hydrate while you dehydrate!”), and at least I’m going to therapy on a semi-regular basis!  I know I have problems and I’m working on them!  But, I made conversation with him, continued to suggest therapy, and just let him rant.

But last weekend, some friends and I had been drinking all afternoon and it was pretty late, but we decided to go down to the bar where I had met this guy for a nightcap.  My friends sat at the end of the bar and I put my coat on the seat around the corner from them so we could talk, and then hit the ladies’ room before I sat down.  I had noticed a drink at the seat next to mine, but there was no one there at the time.  Until I came back from the bathroom and there he was.  Psychokiller, qu’est que c’est!

*heavy sigh*

So, I said “Hi” but then turned back to talk to my friends.  Of course, he kept pulling me back into his conversation, and I said, “I’m sorry, I’m here with other friends and I’m talking with them.”  Somewhere in there, he started on about how terrible his life is because he has seen war and seen people exploding and he went on into gory detail which, just by the way, I REALLY didn’t want to hear!  Finally, I just shouted back at him, “Would you just SHUT UP!”  He just yelled louder and got into more gruesome detail and finally I couldn’t take it anymore and I said, “Would you JUST GET OVER IT!?!”

He shut up.  The bartender, a good friend, looked at me, shocked.  My friends were shocked.  I was druuuuunk.  And angry.  And at the end of my rope.  I felt that I had done as much as I could for this guy and I didn’t want to be his punching bag anymore.  I feel awful for anyone who suffers from PTSD and I know full well that you can’t “just get over it”.  It’s awful, it’s terrible, and I can’t really even imagine it.  But I’m pretty sure going out and drinking yourself into oblivion every night isn’t going to help.  And laying everything down on anyone who will talk to you is just going to piss them off.  I like to help people, but I’ve got to remember that they have to help themselves before my help will do any good.

I just can’t believe I told someone to “just get over it”…

Miss Dependent

Something I never leave the house without:  My cell phone.

It has become my lifeline!  I now use my cell phone as my home phone, so that is not hyperbole.  I can access my email, get texts, make calls (what a concept!), and can check my bank balance.  I check my fantasy football stats, take pictures, look at videos, and can even read books!

Well, I could.  That was before it got stolen on Friday night.  *sniffle*

Yes, it was my fault.  I left it on the bar while I went to the Ladies' Room, but I do that quite often when I have friends still sitting at the bar.  But, apparently, my friend was checking his phone and although he thought it was "hinky" when a guy quickly moved his hand from the bar to his side like he was hiding something, he didn't really realize what was happening.  Until I returned and asked, "Hey, where's my phone?" 

Dang it!  When did I get so dependent on my cell phone?

Well, as I said, it was my own fault.  But, I was able to call Verizon and suspend the service AND, something I didn't realize was possible, I was able to put a password on it by remote!  Who knew?  And why hadn't I done that before?  Because I'm an idiot, that's why.

And why didn't I get insurance for my phone, even after losing it a few months ago (and getting it back)?  Because I'm an idiot, that's why.

Now – the lucky thing is that I have a work cell phone, so I'm not completely isolated.  But, it is a WORK phone, so I really can't use it the same way I used my old phone. 

I still have my old LG enV handset which I could use until I get a new phone.  It's got all my contacts on it.  Well, the old ones anyway.   But it's not a smart phone like my Droid was.  So, I probably can't download books onto it or have all the shortcuts and apps that I was used to having.

So, should I spend the money to get a new Droid or should I just go back to my old non-smart phone without all the bells and whistles? (Does that make it a dumb phone?  Idiot phone?) 

It's a puzzlement.

I just found out that a new Droid phone will be about $500+ so…. Hello LG enV!  It's been so long! lol 

 I don't get my "new every two" discount until 12/25/11, so I think I'll just wait a while on the new phone.   At least until my tax refund…

Self Indulgent Rant

There's been something bothering me lately.  It all started around Mother's Day, a day which is like any other Sunday, except that it has been put aside as the day to celebrate all mothers as the wonderful human beings they are because they gave birth to someone.

But that's not true.  Just giving birth does not automatically make a person wonderful.  Just ask Renee Bowman's daughters.  But that's also not the point of this post. 

In the last several years, I've had several married friends who have been unable to get pregnant naturally, so they have gone through IVF and other tortures in the desperate attempt to have children.  Sadly, these attempts have not worked, so to them, Mother's Day is just a big fat slap in the face.  As is any pregnant belly that accosts them at work or the store, or whatever.  I love them and I feel for them, I really do.  I think it would be great to have little versions of them running around in the world, especially because I would TOTALLY spoil them rotten.  I think they would probably be great parents, and I empathize with them on the fact that they can't have children. 

The problem is that really, neither can I.  Well, I don't know if it is still physically possible, but realistically, I can't have children either.  Why?  I'm single.  I haven't had a steady boyfriend in years, and it doesn't really look like I'm going to get one anytime soon.  Or ever. 

I've said this before, and people have responded with "Well, couldn't you do the sperm donor thing?"  And they are completely missing the point:  why would I want to create a child with some stranger who happens to meet whatever impersonal criteria I put on an application?  Shouldn't a child be created out of love?  Should I create a child just so that I can get the love I don't have in my life?  That's just stupid. Quite honestly, I'm tired of being alone.  But I'm not going to purposefully create a life just to keep me company.  I have a cat for that.


But I think I would have been a great parent too, mostly because I'm a pretty good aunt (which I love being), but… it would have been nice to be able to have a child with someone I loved and who loved me and with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life, watching our kids grow up.  My childless friends seem to forget that at least they have that person in their lives, even if they don't have the kids. 

So – what's my point?  I think this started really bothering me when one friend asked me how another friend who has been going through all the IVF stuff survived Mother's Day.  I understood her concern, but the conversation went on and on about how sad it was to know that "you and your husband" couldn't have kids, and it just bothered me.  I felt that my own heartbreak didn't matter.

And it does matter. It's the sort of thing that gets a girl depressed, which certainly doesn't help her meet and fall in love with the perfect man who will whisk her away on his Fluffy White Horse and swear his love and fidelity forever and ever and kiss her JUST right and they'll all live happily ev … *cough*   Sorry about that... went off into Fantasyland there for a sec!  ;-)

Anyway, self-indulgent rant over.  I just wanted to say that there is another viewpoint in all of this.  Yes, it's awful when you go through all of that and realize that your body just can't do what you need it to do.  Just think how horrible you would feel if your body could do it, but there was no one to do it with. 
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OK, I'm going to see Robin Hood tonight so I can fantasize about a bearded rebel wearing leather and riding a big white horse.  And don't worry, I'm seeing my therapist next week.  :-)    (And get your mind out of the gutter.)

Hugs and kisses, kiddycats!