overcome depression and anxiety

Back on medication again – Lexapro. And 4 days later, I’m somewhat productive. Damn it.

My name is Stacy, and I sufer from chronic depression.

Was a raging bitch this evening. Made my 10 yr old cry, and when his dad got home he told on me. So my husband gave me a firm talking to – the usual one about not being such a raging bitch to my child. Again.

Later, I cooked a delicious meal and helped son put together a project without being a bitch. Much. Progess? I think so.

Still feel like cutting someone. And cursing. While cutting someone. I swear, if I wasn’t so emotionally retarded as a teenager, I would have killed someone by now.

My period is usually the worst time, and even if I am not going through a bad patch, I usually go to pieces during that time of the month. I used to take Xanax for about three days every month, and now that I can’t afford the medication, I get sidelined once a month, as I have been since this damn thing started when I was 11. This month, I have not seen the usual signs. Cramps, sure, but no overwhelming irritability and irrational rage, and I don’t feel like I could just curl up and die right now. So, this is good.

I need to do things for me. I always use the needs or feelings of others to motivate me to complete hings, so when noone is around, I shut down, like a wind up toy that has run down. I need to do it because I(emphasis on the I) want to. I’vee been waiting to feel like doing something, but I have spent so many years denying myself, that my automatic response to that feeling is ‘no you can’t’. Well,I am going to start tlling myself yes, and see if my life starts to make sense.

This is going to be complicated, so just hang on tight as I walk you through this.

So I’m watching Miami Ink, and wondering, as I am wont to do, what kind of tattoo I would get. Then it came to me – it would have to be a mountain climber, because that is what I am, trying to achieve anything while climbing Mt Depression. So I googled images of mountain climbers, just to see what my imaginary tattoo would look like, and was reminded of Bear Gryll’s achievements. Now he is someone I admire (plus he is hot as f*, just look at his butt), but reading his story while thinking about depression just made me take a little more notice. On top of which, I had forgotten that he was a mountaineering Christian who had spent 18 months learning to walk again after a parachuting accident. Damn, man! His simple statements about his faith touched me the way flowery statements never do. When I decided to figure out my own mind, I discovered that my faith was basically a limp, tired copy of those around me. I had to dump it all out, like a handbag in need of a tidy, and discard everything that wasn’t my own, that I couldn’t accept, that was against the principles I finally discovered I had. As a direct result of this mental exercise, I have personally fallen away from the Church, but I still believe in God.

Now, let me bring it on home, this revelation I want to share. The metaphor of mountain climbing opened a door in my mind, showing me something that I have been trying to see for years. I am climbing Mt depression, but what reason do I have to keep climbing? What is it that keeps me trying when I am constantly tumbling over the edge, into the abyss? Sh, I spend more time dangling from cliffs by my safety rope than actually moving upward towads the peak – any sensible person would give up. My expedition keeps running out of money. Who is financing this expedition? What keeps me climbing? What is at the top of the bloody mountain? If I can figure these out, I have a chance, don’t I? I must believe that there is some point to this agony.

I have hope, and a project. Yay!

I did it without my doctor’s permission, because I couldn’t afford both medication and counselling. I was happy to find that the overwhelming sadness was gone, despite being unemployed (or is it because i was unemployed?) I suspect the fact that I have been able to work from home helped a lot. And the freedom from the extreme stress completely balances the uncertainty about money. I am a happier person.

The medication was not helping me to get to the root of my anxiety, and It was not helping me to get the hell out of my OWN way. I need my counsellor for this. Of course, I also need to do the exercises he has given me to do, so I can really get my money’s worth. So I renew my commitment to doing what needs to be done to beat this.

First session today. I made the appointment this morning for lunchtime because I needed somebody to talk me down off the ledge. I swear, I was this close to jumping, or committing the equivalent of career suicide by going into my mid-year evaluation and telling my supervisor – Look, J. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore, and I am giving up. Fire me.

My husband didn’t think this was a good plan, but I honestly couldn’t see any other alternative. At the height of panic, I realized how desperate I was, and sought help.

B. is very nice, an older gent, calm spirit, good listener, and after an hour with him, I felt heard. That, for me, is the best part of counselling, feeling as though someone gets me, and KNOWS HOW TO HELP ME.

Hallelujah.

but here I am again. For more than a month, I have been avoiding 43T with the same energy I would use to avoid someone who wanted me dead. Because I couldn’t face myself, I couldn’t come here everyday and look at the list anymore.

So it is happening again, my boss has threatened to fire me if I don’t deliver. I am on 2 medications, my family life is AMAZING, I actually have a sex life for the first time (TMI? I don’t even care right now) but work has only been spiralling out of control faster and faster.

What does this mean? I know my coping skills, my organizational skills and my ability to self-motivate simply don’t exist, but an instinct for self-preservation usually made me push, at least TRY to get the work done, no matter how debilitating the depressive episode I was experiencing. For the last five weeks, I haven’t been able to push. I can’t work at home, I can’t work on weekends, I just sit there watching the work pile up as though it isn’t my life, as though I’m in the audience – “Wow, her life is in the crapper! She should do something about it.”

So anyway, that was May.

I am tired. I have difficult decisions to make. My son is at the office with me for two days. The weather is rainy and cold. All these things are bringing my down. They are harshing my mellow. What do people do at times like this to stop the slide? Focus on the good things? Just jump right in and make thaose tough decisions? Okay.

I am wearing a pretty purple jacket – it’s new. I look nice today.

And lunch is here, so I can eat now.

And after lunch, I’ll decide what to tell L. I only have half the info she needs, but I can get the rest ready after I eat.

Okay. I feel a little better. Now if life will hold off for a few hours, I will continue trying to catch up.

But this week will be better. I have given up caffeine, so the anxiety has gone, and I was able to get enough laundry done so that everyone had everything they needed this morning. That hasn’t happened in weeks.

Also, EARLINESS! And my supervisor is on leave this week.

And finally, I got my new uniforms and I look terrific today. So this week has started off very, very well.