I have been living with severe depression for 35 years, since I was 14. It has been a massive, exhausting, demanding burden for the vast majority of that time. I’ll spare you the details – for now – but suffice to say that my life has not turned out the way I expected it to. Although I’ve been able to accomplish some goals – marriage, Bachelor’s and Master’s Degrees, a mostly-fulfilling career in social services, a move to California –…
I hate depression. I hate that I can be having a good day, or even a good week, and then *BAM* – I run into a wall. My wife told me a few days ago that when I’m depressed, I’m “predictably unpredictable.” That’s the same thing I say about my depression. AND THEN, SUDDENLY… I was just listening to a song by Halsey called Alone. I don’t know the words, I just like the music. But that’s how I feel…
I hope my last post didn’t scare you away from taking action. That was certainly not my intention! In all honesty, admitting myself to the psych unit has saved my life at least a few times. And they’ve all kept me safe. Part I of this series was just a (very) general overview of the state of psychiatric units. It was meant to be educational, not scary. Yet, I can’t help but feel like I may have gotten a little on…
Whenever I hear someone use the term “psycho ward”, it’s often part of a *joke*. Well, trust me, there’s nothing funny about it. The image I assume people get in their heads is from the book One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey, or the subsequent movie, starring Jack Nicholson and a number of recognizable-but-not-yet-famous actors (including Scatman Crothers, Danny DeVito, and Christopher Lloyd). (Damn that Nurse Ratched! She is EVIL! She’s so good, actress Louise Fletcher won an Oscar for…
**Personal Note: Though I have been diagnosed with three different mental health conditions, I usually speak mostly of depression, as that is the one I have the most experience with and have done the most personal research on. But much of what I share (in any post) can apply to other mental health diagnoses.** One of the most profound – and helpful – things I occasionally remember learning from my DBT class is that thoughts cannot hurt you. Say what?…
***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…
