Tag Archives: Depression

Living with Depression

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My husband has been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder and Emotional Detachment Disorder.

We have tried to face these illnesses as a team, putting up a united front.

However, when my six year old son tells me that he thinks “no one with Depression should be allowed to have kids,” I struggle to stay on the team.

Let me put this as honest as I possibly can, for those of you who might be in a similar position to me: Being with someone with a mental illnesses is fucking hard work.

My husband and I have described his depression as the third person in our marriage, the mistress who clothes herself in darkness to ravish him and tear us apart. Her scent saturates our lives, and lingers like a rancid perfume over dinner, family gatherings, and trips to the park.

How am I supposed to live with this “other woman” ever-present in our marriage? Well, I tried to look online for advice and support for people who are married to someone with a mental illness.

You know what I found? Article, after article, after article, addressing how one can and should support their spouse: what to do, how to create a healthy space for them, what to look-out for, how to get him/her help, each word oozing with sympathy for the person who has the illness.

But, what about those of us who are trying to hold everything together in the midst of the chaos, sadness, depression, and rage?

Even when an article does touch-on what a caregiver can do to take care of him/herself, it inevitably ties it all up by saying that these tips for self-care will make you better at supporting your loved one.

Why can’t it just be about me and my well-being?

Does EVERYTHING have to centre around him and his well-being – even my own health?

I understand that my husband needs support, patience, understanding, and love. Really, I do.

But, so do I.

I have my own battles, struggles, illnesses, and pain.

The difference? He can count on me to be there for him every time, but I can’t count on him to be there for me. I know it’s the illness – he can’t help it.

I try to stay on his team regardless. In sickness and in health.

But, what is one to do when their child tells them, repeatedly, that he has been “trying to get Dad out of the house for years because he makes everything horrible”?

It is incredibly difficult to stay on the team in these moments.

It is hard. It is tiring. It drains me. It hurts.

And, despite how much I like to believe it, the truth is – I am not superwoman.

Maybe there is a lack of information and support out there for people like me because guilt holds us back from talking candidly about our struggles to love someone with a mental illness. We feel guilty about being frustrated, annoyed, and angry; and for thinking (more than once) about leaving. We don’t want to sound harsh, or seem like we don’t understand or care.

So, we suffer in silence.

I think it’s about time we work on removing the stigma associated with being a caregiver to someone with mental illness. We are not perfect. We have our own struggles. We want to quit sometimes. We feel resentment and anger. We feel alone. And none of these feelings mean that we don’t care, that we are heartless, selfish, or churlish.

It means that we are human.

To all of you out there who are doing your best to “stay on the team,” despite feeling exhausted, angry, alone, or judged:

I hear you. I see you. I am here for you.

Living with depression is not easy, and it’s okay to say so. It’s okay to want to walk away sometimes. It’s okay to want an easier life. It’s okay to cry and be angry.

Your feelings, your needs, your safety, and your well-being are just as valid as the person with the illness.

Prioritize yourself.

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/caregiving

Poem – May 16, 1998 (17 yrs old)

15 Tuesday May 2018

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Alone
She lies on her floor writing
Poetry
for no one but herself.

Upset
She does not know who she is
Frustrated
there is not a soul who can tell her.

People
They confuse her more and
Crush
her spirit.

Two
Hearts she is supposed to have
Learning
to handle one has been hard enough.

Who
Will rescue her and help her to surface?
Why
is her question for everything.

Misunderstood
By everyone known and unknown
Despised
by no one but herself.

Depressed
By poetry that gets her nowhere

searching.

Authentically Me – Dec. 1998

08 Tuesday May 2018

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When you are someone who journals, you have the great advantage of being able to go-back and answer that nagging question: Was I always like this?

I have begun exploring my old journals and while there are many in this world who would say that I am still a baby, a mere 37 years young, I believe that there is a wealth of information and experience to be mined from within their covers.

When I was eighteen years old, I felt like I was so old and so mature. There are valid reasons for this because, by my eighteenth year I had already lived what felt like several lifetimes and been-through an incredible amount of unusual and phantasmagorical life-experiences.

The following journal excerpt is from December 17, 1998 and is the very first entry in a new journal. It is incredible for me to read because it sounds like something I could have written last year.

As I explore my journals, I will be sharing excerpts that I find interesting. They will be in original form, non-edited and raw. One day I will put more meat to the content, but for now, I start with the bones.

Dec. 17, 1998

Sometimes I worry about my sanity. I am terribly confused. I no longer know what I believe in, what I like and dislike and very plainly, who I am. I find myself liking things and not liking things on the basis of the opinions of others. I also find myself not liking things just because they are liked and popular. I feel that if I like something that is popular I am saying that I am a crowd follower and cannot form my own opinions. I do not know how, but I have to discover myself again and find out who I really am. Unfortunately, I feel as though I have to hit absolute bottom before I can. It is too easy right now to simply ignore things and pretend things are alright. I have to feel, believe and know that it is absolutely necessary that I find myself.

***

Wow, kid.

The idea that, at eighteen, I felt that I had to try and “discover myself again,” boggles the mind. I see eighteen year old’s now and they are like babies, so young, innocent, and unaware. I thought I was a “worldly” eighteen year old, but I didn’t know jack. I was a baby like them once; I just didn’t know it.

They say that ‘hindsight is 20-20,’ and this entry is an obvious red flag to me knowing now that it would be a mere few months later that I would overdose on pills in an attempt to find relief from all of these troublesome thoughts and feelings.

Like I said, I was naïve. I knew nothing of what was yet to come and had a flimsy grasp, at best, on all that had been.

Nonetheless, there is a beautiful trait that pokes through the mess – and that is the constant intent to be genuine. I do not now, nor have I ever, wished to pretend that I am somebody I am not.

“I must keep my own style & go on in my own way; and though I may never succeed again in that, I am convinced that I should totally fail in any other” (Jane Austen, Jane Austen’s Letters).

The yearning for authentic sincerity that I often wore like an inconvenient abnormality, has been rubbed by the intimate hands of time and is showing itself as one of my most beautiful strengths.

Confessions of a Facebook “Creeper”

04 Wednesday Jan 2017

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I admit it. I search for people all the time who aren’t my friends on Facebook. Usually, this happens during bouts of nostalgia when I find myself thinking about the people with whom I grew-up and wondering where they are, what they are doing, what they look like and how happy they appear.

I want to compare where I am, what I’m doing, what I look like and how happy I am with my childhood friends. I am always relieved and slightly joyous when I see that there has been weight gain, wrinkles, weariness…good. It’s not just me.

There are many people with whom I wish I had kept more regular contact. People with whom I am no longer “friends” – not even on Facebook. Sometimes I creep these people to see what life is like for them. I did this yesterday and spent a considerable amount of time looking at a few childhood friends and I was genuinely glad to see how happy they appeared. I was pleased that they had experienced adventures, travel, fun, love and beauty.

I considered sending a few friend requests, but got lost in thoughts of how it would be perceived by these people. I suffered from depression for most of my time in high school. This was before depression was really understood, talked about or treated. But, the biggest casualty of my depression was my social life. I withdrew from all of my friends and lost most of those relationships. One of the biggest hangers-on of this time period is embarrassment. I feel embarrassed all the time about how I was and I assume that people remember me in a negative light.

I was moody, judgmental, shy, confused, lonely and lost.

During these years my FB posts would have be the kind that you just get tired of seeing so you block the person so you don’t get the constant drone of negative status updates in your feed.

When I think about these years I am always overwhelmed with sadness for the many memories I have about stupid things I did as a result of my state of mind. I’ve been working on forgiving myself, and giving that girl a chance to heal and find acceptance; strangely, creeping on Facebook kind of helps with this. I’ve managed to ‘rekindle’ a few of these lost relationships and they have been extremely meaningful to me. Every time I send a request to a long, lost, friend and then we message back and forth a bit, and eventually just start to share life through the regular news feed, it helps normalize what feels like an extremely polarizing time for me.

I wish I could sit down with all of my old friends and have an open discussion about those years, explain what was going on in my world, express my regret for how I may have treated them, share my sorrow for all the lost time and then make-up for some of that time and move-forward as friends again.

My mind is full of many happy memories with them. I remember hours and hours of time spent together, laughing, talking about boys, playing stupid games, sleepovers, doing makeup, playing sports, passing notes in school…I see snapshots in my mind of us together on hammocks, acting cool at school dances, playing flag football, flirting and silly things like stuffing our shirts with balloons. The memories are full and rich.

But, then there are years where the memories are filled with pictures of school dances, football games, pep rallies and lunches filled with all these faces growing and enjoying life—but mine is not with them. These memories haunt me like shadows. Life was happening all around me, but I wasn’t in it.

So, I creep on facebook. I try to fill-in some of the gaps. I reach-out. I rekindle. I make progress.

I am so thankful for those friends with whom I’ve managed to reconnect because, the truth is, the folks with whom I grew-up really do mean a lot to me. They were the people that helped shape me into who I am today. They were my original cheerleaders, challengers and role-models. They were my squad, my family, my community. They exist in my memory as a deep and vast resource of life, joy, sorrow, lessons-learned, new experiences, comfort and friendship and I am so thankful for the ability to creep into their lives now and get a little piece of what once was.

The Lost Girl

04 Wednesday May 2016

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*

The other day I was in the bathroom washing my hands and when I looked-up at myself in the mirror I got a surprise. I looked like myself again.

For years now I have looked in a mirror, searching for me and failing to find the person that once looked back at me. I would see someone with a puffy, tired, drawn face looking back at me like I was a stranger and I would say to her ‘who are you?’

I would stare at this person, intently, gazing into her eyes, trying to find the person I used to know.

Then, all of a sudden, she just showed-up.

The person looking back at me had the mischievous twinkle in her eye that was so familiar. She looked happy, refreshed and full of life.

I didn’t realize how much I had been missing her until she showed up again.

She took my breath away.

There was great relief to find that she still existed. I had been feeling as though she would be lost forever.

This girl and I were close once. We used to explore, create, love, laugh and live a wondrous life full of energy. She was brave and enjoyed exploring and trying new things.

I guess I first started losing touch with her when I was pregnant-the first time. After the miscarriage, she began to distance herself a little bit more. After moving country and finding herself more alone than ever, she would disappear for weeks at a time. She was never really the same after that.

After she gave birth to her little boy she disappeared, almost, entirely. There were brief moments of pure joy when she would show her face, but for the most part, she was lost.

I couldn’t find her. I would call out to her ‘where are you?’ and hear nothing in response. I missed the excitement she brought to the world, I missed the energy, the love for life, the hunger for experience.

I missed the love of art, the desire to create music and write thoughts, the joy that she would have when she watched a breeze rustling the leaves of a tree.

And, all of a sudden, here she was. A cheeky grin on her face, her eyes glowing like an andalusite gem, ready to take on the world.

Like Bastian in “The Neverending Story”, I have traversed through sadness, fear, loss, overcome great obstacles and battled “the Nothing” only to discover that I was the one all along.

The rediscovery of this girl has been a huge part of this journey that I call “seeking life now”. It hasn’t happened by accident. I have had to work at it. My lost self didn’t just appear of her own volition, I have been working on creating a safe space for her so that she felt confident in returning.

And, although she’s not 100%, fully back, the glimpse I have seen of her has given me new hope and renewed energy to keep working on the things I have been doing so that she has space to thrive once again.

*

Slumps

13 Sunday Mar 2016

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I go through slumps or downtimes on a regular basis. I`ve recently tried to track these in an effort to try and be prepared for when one is on its way.

I don`t know if it`s the Fibromyalgia or Hypothyroidism, SAD or just a regular phase of life. But, they can be devastating for me.

I end-up in an unhealthy downward spiral. All I want is food that will bring me joy and comfort. I reach for diet soda, chips, chocolate and toast. And, really, anything carb. There are scientific reasons for this happening in humans. It is an evolutionary tick we have that is there to help us survive when the chips are down.

I know that I need to work on the idea that food is my friend, or that food is what brings me comfort when the going gets tough.

But, that is easier said than done.

When I am stressed or feeling blue, it is my go-to.

I don`t have any close friends that I can call-up to come hang-out and we don`t have family nearby.

In my mind I know that I should find something else to do. I could write, read, workout, clean, paint or sing. Now, I just have to find the motivation to get off the couch when I feel like the world is dull and grey. That`s part of the vicious cycle.

I spent most of today under one of those dark storm clouds. It wasn`t until after I had a bath and started to move-around a bit more that I felt better.

I spent a few hours today playing Star Wars Battlefront and I think that this has a lot to do with the dark clouds. I love the game, but I`m really not happy to spend a day sitting-around playing it. And, it has, pretty much, ruined my evening workout routine, so I really need to adjust to this.

But, at the end of the day, I am still close to my calorie goal (I`m guessing I`m somewhere between 2-400 over). This may seem like a lot to you, but I used to be 1000 calories over on days like this, so I`ve been making progress.

I also slowly fade-out of tracking my food when I`m in one of these slumps. But, I know that tracking my food is one of the things that can help keep me motivated.

In fact, I`ve noticed in the last 6 months that every time I go through a dark phase, I`m handling them a little bit better than I used to. I`m happy for this, because I`m looking at a long-term change, not quick results that fade as soon as they come.

So, I`ve boiled my eggs for tomorrow, have my lettuce in bags and ready to go, and I`m all ready to start fresh again.

I`ve done the dishes and tidied up and I`m going to post this and then head upstairs for a mini workout.

I hope that anyone who is reading this and is trying to make themselves healthier is feeling encouraged and strengthened to persevere and not give up, finding that every setback gets a little easier and quicker to navigate. One day, the things that trip us up right now won`t even cause warrant a second thought.

 

High School Almost Killed Me

28 Sunday Feb 2016

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*

When I was 18, I over-dosed on Gravol and a few other things that I found in the cabinet.
I remember the morning as clearly as though it was yesterday.

I was tired. So, very tired.

I had just managed to scrape-through some of the roughest 3 weeks of my life. These 3 weeks were full of disappointments, let-downs, heartaches, hurtful practical jokes and endings. It was my last year of school and I was already feeling the grief of all that was being lost.

I didn’t set-out to kill myself in particular. I just wanted a break. I just wanted to be able to get-away from all the pain for a day.
To just sleep-through it all.

As the meds started to set-in I began to worry ‘what if I don’t wake-up?’ I took-out my journal and jotted-down some notes to my loved ones (just in case), and I called my Music Teacher to let him know I wouldn’t be at school or band practice that night.

And then…it all went black…

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As a, so-called, “Highly Sensitive Person”, I am amazed at how I’ve managed to make it through the turbulent waters of life.

Though, it’s certainly true that I haven’t come-through it unscathed. I have the scars to prove that I have embraced life in all its guts and glory.

This article is a good place to start on my journey because it sets the scene for who I am and how I experience the world.

Once again, for fellow HSP’s out there, or anyone who lives with an HSP, check-out the Huffington Post article:

16 Habits of Highly Sensitive People