***I wrote most of this post on Wednesday and finished it early Thursday. It is now after midnight on Friday/Saturday and I finally have enough mental (and physical) energy to post it. That’s how depression works.***

 

My heart hurts.

As I sit here on the couch on a dreary Wednesday morning, attempting (unsuccessfully) to keep our two-year-old cat, Zander (aka Little One), off of my wife’s keyboard, I can feel the very specific sensation in my chest that signals intense depression.

Unfortunately, this feeling is very familiar. It penetrates my heart very deeply and envelops it in a painful kind of embrace. It is a known sign that I’m in trouble, emotionally speaking. The only unknown is how long it will last.

The good news is that I don’t notice it much these days. Over the last 18 months or so, not only has it happened less often (much less often), it doesn’t last like it used to. That sensation, of having “a hole in my heart”, used to last for weeks and months – seriously. Many times, I was convinced that it would always be there, something I’d simply have to endure for the rest of time.

Now, though, it comes and goes much, much more quickly. It still feels the same, it still hurts (in a metaphysical way), and it still gets my attention. The interesting – and most irritating – thing about it is that there’s no build-up to it, no warning signs that it’s on its way.

It just appears.

In a way, I’m grateful for it. It lets me know that something serious is going on with me, so it acts as a sort of heads-up:

Hello? Laura? Something’s not right here. Pay attention before it gets any more out of hand.

One thing I learned about it last year is that I often get that same physical sensation during times of high anxiety. So, now when I notice it, I don’t have to automatically assume the worst and freak out. I can ask myself, “Okay, is this depression or anxiety? What’s going on right now that might have caused this?”

That way, I can do a quick, little inventory of my current issues. I’m learning – slowly, and please don’t ask me to explain how – to differentiate between when it signals anxiety (which, generally, doesn’t last as long, and if it’s deep enough, I can take a Xanax to slow my brain down, which allows me to problem-solve and work through it) and when it signals depression.

SO WHAT’S GOING ON WITH ME? WHY THE EMOTIONAL RELAPSE?

That’s a complex story that I really don’t feel like getting into right this minute. I have, though, started two posts about what’s been happening in my life over the last month and have started a folder for a third. It’s all very important stuff that has serious ramifications for my future (and my present), so I will be explaining it all soon in that series of posts. Just not right now. Right now, I need to get this crappy shit out of my head (and my heart) so I can work through it.

Suffice to say that I am currently stuck in what DBT calls “Emotion Mind”. As the name suggests, that means that I am overwhelmed with emotion and making most of my decisions from that place. I am, at the moment, unable to access the rational part of my mind that balances things out.

Here’s what you need to know for now:

• I got a wild hair up my butt and applied for a part-time job, 25 hours a week. (I haven’t been able to work since August 29, 2005.)
• Within about two weeks’ time, I applied, had a phone interview, had an interview IRL (with three people), and got the position.
• I went to an intense, four-day training with a couple hundred other community-service-minded people. I started working the next day.
• Unfortunately, I came down with a nasty, stubborn case of bronchitis during training – so I had to miss five of my first ten days. It lasted a month.
• A couple weeks later, I had thirteen teeth pulled – yes, all at once – and got a set of temporary dentures. Well, full dentures for the upper teeth, and a partial for the bottom. Let’s just say I’ve been in varying degrees of pain since then.
• Ever since I got the dentures, I’ve had a lot of trouble sleeping. Now, sleep and I have a very long, complicated history, but I’d been doing really well for several months until the last week and a half. I now get about 4 hours a night. Oh, and I snore like a mf’er now, which wakes up CeAnne, who pokes me and tells me to turn over, only I usually just get up at that point. (Sorry, honey!)
• Turns out the position I was hired for is very difficult for me to manage. Because of the cognitive issues I’ve had ever since my ECT treatments twelve years ago, I am unable to perform the duties and responsibilities of the position. So I had to quit.

ENTER DEPRESSION

Actually, I’m not sure if I quit or if they let me go. I had sent a lengthy, very personal email to the people on my team five or six days ago, which explained my cognitive difficulties and how much they were getting in the way of being able to perform my duties. I left it open for comments and suggestions. My immediate supervisor already knew a lot of it; I had told her a few days earlier how very (and surprisingly) difficult the position was for me.

Later that day, I got a response from my supervisor and her boss saying that maybe I could try again at a later time, when I’m better able to perform, and that I could volunteer there in the meantime if I wanted.

I took that to mean that they had made the decision for me.

I didn’t even respond until a few days ago. Even though I knew in my heart that the best thing for my mental health would be to leave the position, I was, nevertheless, somewhat devastated (is that an oxymoron?).

So, I’ve been operating through the multi-faceted lens of depression: I’m disappointed in myself, I feel really bad for letting them down, I feel like I did nothing but waste their valuable time. I’m embarrassed, I feel shame (goddamn stigma), and I feel hopeless, frustrated, vulnerable, scared, and angry.

The anger, naturally, is directed at myself for getting my hopes up in the first place. Just two short months ago, I was living my life under the assumption that I would probably never be able to work again (as I had been since 2005). But then I saw this opportunity and jumped in with both feet, eyes wide open. I actually got excited! And trust me, I don’t get excited. It’s always been one of the hardest emotions for me to show.

And then, I failed.

Sure, I’ve learned some things about myself through this, but so far, it’s all negative and self-defeating. Was it worth it? In the grand scheme of things, it probably was. But I’ve really been struggling for the last week, and at this moment, I’m feeling it deeply.

In fact, I literally just got off the phone with my therapist, Kim. I told her that I just want someone to tell me what to do. So she did! This is what she wants me to do today:

1. Eat something. It’s 2:00 p.m. and I haven’t eaten anything yet.
2. Stay away from mood-altering substances.
3. Keep writing this post (and other stuff, if I want).
4. Dust off my DBT Skills book and read two particular sections of it (one called Distress Tolerance and one called Alternate Rebellion).

She also said something about Willingness. I need to be willing to do things that are good for me, things that have proven to help me when I’m in a dark place, willing to take a particular positive action even though my brain is screaming “But I don’t wanna!!”

Willingness is a tough nut to crack, and I often fight it.

REALITY BITES

What I’d really like to do is run away. I’d like to numb myself. I’d like to go get drunk or use or do something that will allow me to check out for a while.

Yes, I’ve been known to call myself the Queen of Avoidance on occasion.

It’s funny, though. I’ve been trying to avoid all of it for the last week: the scary and painful emotions, the negative thoughts and self-talk, the feeling of not being worthy (of anything), the fear that my cognitive abilities will be less-than for the rest of my life…Yet it’s all I’ve been able to think about.

Maybe avoidance doesn’t really work. Yes, I know, at best it’s a temporary “fix”. The feelings and thoughts and the whole mess will still be there when I finally convince myself – usually with the help of some outside influence – to deal with it.

But who wants to feel like shit? Who wants to “sit with the discomfort”? Who wants to acknowledge and experience all the crap that comes along with the messiness of any situation?

Certainly, not me.

I’ve been known to go to great lengths and waste a lot of time trying to avoid reality. Of course, it never works. Reality has a way of, you know, just being, whether you like it or not. Reality is always there. There is no escaping it, no matter how hard or how long you try to outrun it.

SO NOW WHAT?

Yeah, I don’t know.

My heart knows this emotional relapse won’t last forever, but my head is telling me otherwise. Damn brain. I swear it’s trying to kill me.

One of the things that changed about me after the ECT was my ability to handle stress. When I have more than a couple things to do, or when I have “too many” options to choose from, I get confused and befuddled and overwhelmed. Quickly. In fact, I downright freeze. Sometimes, I have a panic attack, which is never a pretty sight.

So, for now, I should probably do the opposite of what my dysfunctional brain is telling me to do. Instead of clamming up and isolating (my natural state), I should consult the very wise people who make up my professional support team and FOLLOW THEIR SUGGESTIONS, share how I’m feeling with CeAnne and Barb, my dearest friend, not make any big decisions or jump into anything else in the near future, and do one thing at a time/put one foot in front of the other.

Later today, I see my psychiatrist, the most-awesome Dr. Nelson, and tomorrow, my equally-awesome case manager, Brianna, is coming over (for the second time this week). Maybe they’ll tell me what to do.

In the meantime, I can only think of one thing: Remember to breathe.

Wish me luck.