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”…

Caffeine or Not Caffeine?

Caffeine, that wonderful drug!  It's what wakes you up in the morning, keeps you going throughout the day, and makes life just move at a faster pace!  Yes, it's wonderful! I sing its praises!

Uh, no... wait.  I don't "do" caffeine.  Why not?  Well, it keeps me awake at night so I can't sleep, and well, there was that time when I passed out in the boss's office...

OK, that was 20+ years ago, but it is still important.  To me, anyway.   I had gone in to complain about something (as was pretty usual then), and suddenly I saw these little black dots in front of my eyes and felt myself sit back down somewhat abruptly.  The next thing I knew, I was on the floor and the boss and assistant manager were freaking out and patting my cheeks to wake me up.  JUST a little scary!

Soooo - I went to the doctor, found out I was anemic so he asked me about my eating and drinking habits.  So I went through a typical work day:  I would start off making a big pot of coffee (the 10-cup version) while I took a shower, and then drinking a big Renaissance Faire mug (at least 24 ounces, maybe more) of coffee while getting dressed, eating some toast, putting on make-up and drying my hair.  Not necessarily in that order.

I'd finish off that pot re-filling the mug for my drive to the office.  I was the first one in the office those days, so I'd make a pot of coffee just for me.  By the end of an hour, I'd go back in, finish off that pot and make the three pots of coffee (two regular, one decaf) for the office.  I'd drink coffee non-stop until about 10, 10:30, when I'd switch to Diet Coke.  I'd drink those one after the other until 3:30 when I'd have one last Diet Coke for the drive home.  And then I'd get home and have a beer.

At this point, the doctor exclaimed,  "Of course you had a beer, you had to come down!"  :-)

The doctor was concerned about a few things (caffeine, smoking, drinking, bad eating habits), but he figured the easiest one to quit would be caffeine so he told me I had to quit it cold turkey.  I did, but I had a headcake for about two weeks!  Don't let anyone tell you that caffeine is not a drug!

About a year later we were all laid off, and I decided to go to Computer Learning Center to get a piece of paper that said I was a programmer.  Back in 1990, there weren't a lot of decaffeinated diet drinks (and Pepsi Free SUCKED!), so I generally just drank a lot of water.  But sometimes I really wanted a soda, so I had to make the decision between caffeine or sugar.  One time, I chose the caffeine.  A few minutes later, my desk mate in CLC (who I had only known for about two weeks) asked me if I had gotten a diet Coke during the break.  I said I had and asked him why?  "Because you're bouncing off the walls!"

Well, it had been a year, and apparently my body just didn't quite know what to do with caffeine anymore. ;-)

(That was also the time of my life when I lost about 25lbs on the "No Time, No Money" diet.  I was unemployed for 10 months and worked about a billion part-time jobs, and went to school.  I look back on that time and wonder, "Who WAS that girl?"  And btw, the "No Time, No Money" diet is NOT recommended!)

Fast forward about 15 years.  I'm in a new job, still caffeine-free, and one of my friends decides to go on a Starbucks run so I asked for my usual ("decaf venti vanilla latte, no foam, and please make sure it's decaf!").  I drank about half of it and suddenly realized that it wasn't decaf.  My first clue?  Sweats, pasty skin, shaking... signs of an overdose if I've ever seen them!  I went to the kitchen and drank gallons of water and then went into the Time Out room (one of our conference rooms that had nice couches and lights on a dimmer), and laid down for a while.  When I felt better, I made excuses to my boss and went home.  It was a serious scare to me, so I called my doctor.

My new doctor gave me a good idea.  She told me I was probably right that I had overdosed and she said I could try inoculating myself.  Basically, I could have a small dose of caffeine in the morning, which should help me avoid having another episode like that but it would still be early enough in the day so it wouldn't keep me up at night. 

So now I stop by the Corner Bakery (or Soho or Au Bon Pain) and get a decaf coffee with a shot of hazelnut or whatever flavored "regular" coffee they've got.  I might have another decaf coffee later on, because I love the flavor of coffee, but I don't do anymore caffeine.  On weekends, I sometimes switch and drink about a 1/2 a coke, and then drink 7-Up or Sprite if I drink another soda.  I think the best thing though is that I still tend to drink a lot water.  Because water is actually REALLY good for you!

So, this was really boring, wasn't it?   Well, we can't always be interesting and perky.




Yes, pun intended. :-)

Bravery

I just read the most amazing story about bravery and just loved his definition:

Bravery isn’t being fearless. Fearlessness is idiocy. It’s why they recruit Marines so young.
Being brave means being scared as hell and doing what you’ve got to do anyway.

Well, the story is about cancer and depression, which sounds really depressing, but... it's not.  It's about friendship and truth and life.


Go check it out:  And I'm Not Lying

I've had therapists like his and wish I had the cojones to say what he did!

Edited to add:  And I didn't even realize the irony of my throw-away line at the end until JUST NOW!  LOL *smack head*