As you may know, I am currently being treated for depression and anxiety. There is little talk about this stuff, and not being able to talk about it feeds the depression and the anxiety. Talking about it makes it melt, makes it understandable and bearable and fixable. Not talking about it makes it heavy and bull-ish and oppressive – not talking feeds the depression and the shit lies I tell myself on an hourly basis. This is an attempt to talk about it. Depression is so very real and so very shitty, hopefully this will help me and maybe someone else.
I have an appointment to see a pyschologist in July to get a proper diagnosis. But for now, the drugs and the counseling are working pretty well. I have triggers that are quite personal and don’t really feel like sharing them just yet. But there are triggers that set off my anxiety. And if I’m not able to, or don’t try to stop the anxiety it builds into panic and then I start to get thoughts of self harm-suicide that is.
I’ve never attempted suicide, nor do I think I ever will, but I have seriously contemplated it. So much so that one day a few weeks ago I called the NL mental health crisis line. (This is a 24 hour, 7 day a week provincial telephone crisis service for people experiencing mental health problems. Call (709) 777-3200 or Toll Free 1-888-737-4668). After this call- a trip to the emerg at the Bona V. hospital to see a Dr. on call – then a ride to St. John’s lightly strapped to a gurny in the back of an ambulance on my way to the mental hospital for an emergency pyschiatric assessment.
I called the help line because I was in bed. crying. terrified that my world was falling apart (which it wasn’t – at all). I felt so utterly helpless and hopeless and unable to do anything positive to help my situation. I started thinking that I had no way out. I could either stand by and let my world break apart or stay in bed and cry for the rest of my life (Depression can be quite dramatic and it’s very difficult to not have those black and white thoughts – I have a problem with lack of grey scale in my thoughts – it’s something I’m working on). I couldn’t bear either of those options and started to think of suicide, and this scared me more and I curled into a tighter ball in my bed, cried harder. I was too afraid to get out of bed for fear I would hurt myself and too afraid to stay in bed and let my world fall apart. So I called the lovely people at the end of the help line. It was hard and sad.
Eventually, I was driven to the hospital in Bona V. where the Dr. was not comfortable sending me home and wanted me to go see a prof. mental health Dr.. and she wanted me to go in the ambulance. Once the attivan kicked in, I was ok with this theory and that’s what I did.
What happens in my brain???? My Amygdala is misfiring, (too often and too strongly) cort. and adrenaline (hormones in the fight/flight complex). Also, my thought patterns are fucked. and I mean proper fucked. I’m at a stage in my life where I can’t trust anything I think. Nothing. My feelings are subject as well as ALL my thoughts. This is hard to believe even on good days and I’ve only balanced that tight wire a few times successfully. For example: My husband comes home from a week long trip away and says ” Hey! How are you? What did you do while I was gone?” A regular person with a regular thought process would hear “Hey! How are you? What did you do while I was gone?” As in, I’m curious, I’d like to know because I’ve been gone for a week.
I hear “Hey! What the fuck did you do while I was gone? the dishes aren’t done, you lazy bitch. the house is a fucking mess, I bet you didn’t even get the fucking paperwork done either did you? You’re lazy and ugly and boring, why the fuck am I with you.” Which is really hard to listen to, I believe these thoughts, I become defensive and challenging and angry. And it doesn’t matter what the next sentance is out of his mouth I’m already fighting with him and calling him names.
It’s fucked up. It’s bullshit. And it’s. in. my. head. ALL the time.
I have a journal that I use and it helps, I have a running schedule that works when I use it, I have counselling appointments almost every week. I like my counsellor – thankfully. I also have talking to people, that I don’t do very often. It’s not something that generally pops up in conversation. I have a few friends that know and ask specifically about my mental health and it’s nice. I find it difficult to explain what’s going on, but it is good to talk about. I talk to my husband regularly about this situation and my parents are finally in on it and they’re good to talk to as well. if nothing else they listen well.
So if I said I was going to do something and I didn’t. I’m sorry I may have just spent 2 days yelling at people that I love and that’s exhausting, terrifying and remorseful. It usually takes me some time to come back – as it does, I’m sure, for the people I’m yelling at. But I’m still here, and I’m still working on it. working on hearing the things that are said, instead of assuming something else. Working on writing in my journal every day. working on recognizing my anger as a substitute for a different emotion that I am avoiding confronting (there are lots of these), working on seeing the positives in situations,not just the negatives. Working on controlling MY thoughts, MY words, and MY actions. Taking responsibility for myself, works, deeds and thoughts not anybody elses.
as a late edition to this – I also want to say that I’m not always out of control. Sometimes I feel great. And by great I don’t mean happy, I mean able to deal with my thoughts and feelings in a healthy, productive, sane way. It’s not having the negative thoughts that’s my problem, everybody has negative thoughts. it’s the believing them that’s the problem. Some days I do, some days I don’t.
It’s not very pretty as it is here, but it does seem to have some potential. I’ll have to mull it over and do some more sampling on it before I make up my mind entirely.
