Friday, August 15, 2014

Depression sucks.

I tried going to bed, but my brain won't shut the fuck up, so I'm writing this instead.

Been dealing with a bout of depression lately, and since this is my therapy journal, you get to read about the reasons why I'm depressed. Lucky you.

Robin Williams. Robin fucking Williams lost his battle with depression and left the fucking planet. I know it might seem like a strange thing to be depressed about. It isn't as if I knew him personally. It isn't even as if I was crazy-obsessed with him as a fan. Yet, he's a personality I grew up with, ever since "Mork and Mindy" when I was a kid. To hear of his suicide was a kick in the teeth. The subsequent explosion of posts on Facebook about his death, and about suicide-in-general, touched off my depression.

Said depression was exacerbated by running out of pain medication and ending up in withdrawal from Percocet for three days. To make matters worse, my primary computer died, and I am left with just my netbook. (She's practically indestructible, but she's small and slow.) All these things in addition to the stuff that has happened to my friends in the last few weeks has made for a particularly irritating bout of depression that I would very like much to end now, please.

I've been dealing with it pretty much the way I always deal with depression: sleeping it off. I'm still not sure if this is healthy. I sleep a lot during the day when I get like this, and I'm utterly unmotivated to do anything else. It sucks. That's what depression does. It sucks the life right out of you, and that can be terrifyingly literal in cases such as Mr. Williams.

I haven't had actual suicidal ideation as of late, but my subconscious has been flirting with it. I've had dreams about it. I wake up and I realize that I am, in fact, okay, but it's still disconcerting to dream about suicide. I never, ever want to put Matt through that. I don't even want to put the cats through that. I'm not that selfish, am I? I'm not that weak.

But if someone like Robin Williams can sink that low... well, you can guess the rest of the thought process. So many times we put celebrities on pedestals and forget that they are, in fact, human. We do the same thing with ourselves. It's really important for someone with depression to remember that being human is okay. That being weak and selfish sometimes is okay. That being sad sometimes is, also, okay. It's depression that holds us to impossible standards. "You must always be happy. You must always put others before yourself. You must always be strong. If you are not, you are defective. If you are defective, then you should just give up now."

Well, I'm not giving up. This is not a severe depression. I've been through much worse. It's more of an annoyance than anything. Yet, I still get angry at myself for it. "Aren't you over this by now? You've got medication, you've got friends, you've got a wonderful husband, you've got a roof over your head and food to eat and a high-speed internet connection. You have nothing to be depressed about." But that's the point. Depression doesn't make any damn sense, and it tries to convince you that you're broken.

I try really hard not to think of myself as broken. Broken means I need to be "fixed," and I'm not a dead laptop or an un-neutered pet. What I need is to know what I need, and depression makes that difficult. I feel like what I need right now is motivation, something to look forward to, and a reason to get up in the morning. Guess what? I have those things. Now I just need to realize that I have them, and take action.


Monday, August 4, 2014

Things are looking up.

One of my best friends is about to lose her leg. Blood clots. Matt and I went to see her in the hospital yesterday, and brought her a hydrangea plant. She really loved the indigo blossoms, and it made her happy. She seems to be very Zen about the whole thing, but we talked, and she knows that once it actually happens, it will hit her hard. When I think of L. being wheelchair bound, it makes me sad. I hope she can get a good prosthesis and is able to walk again, someday.

Another friend's daughter just lost a baby. She carried the child for 37 weeks with no complications, but her daughter suddenly died in the womb. I don't know why it happened. I didn't ask questions. I figured my friend would tell me about it if and when she's ready. The reasons why don't matter, in the end. My heart aches for her and her family.

Both of these things make me so grateful for the things I have. I keep looking at my own two legs, and it puts my pain into perspective. Yes, I have a bad back and it is hard to walk sometimes, but I can walk. I think about my ever-conflicted emotions regarding having a child, and I am very glad that my miscarriages were all early on, and I didn't have a chance to get emotionally attached. I am grateful that I have a husband and friends who would be with me until the end no matter what happens to me. Still, it's been a rough week.

On the upside, I've been more active. This past weekend, I went to the fair, visited Matt's family in Wooster, saw L. in the hospital, and had dinner and saw a movie with friends I don't get to see often. I'm proud of myself for not backing out of anything because of the pain or depression. It feels pretty good, even though I'm really tired.

About two weeks ago, I became a student again. I started an online program to become a veterinary assistant. The program is entirely self-paced, and I'm already way ahead of even the accelerated program suggested dates for completion of the lessons. I'm enjoying having something to put my mind to, again. I realize that this is not a degree, just a diploma, and that it does not, in any way, guarantee me a job, but I don't care. I'm doing it for personal enrichment. I am hoping that once I finally get my back fixed, this will get me a foot in the door at a veterinary practice. Hopefully, it will be somewhere that is willing to pay for additional coursework so that I can become a veterinary technician, not just an assistant. I feel pretty good about it, though, because starting out as an assistant is how a lot of people break into the veterinary field.

I've also been volunteering at a local cat shelter. I can't do a lot of the bending and lifting required for cleaning and maintaining the facility, but next door, there is a second-hand shop that brings in money for the shelter. I've been working there. I've also been going in and "socializing" the cats - that just means I play with them. Yes, playing with cats is an actual job at the shelter, and it's important, because they want all their adoptable cats to be well-socialized and playful. I get to sit in a room full of kittens and play with them, brush them, and occasionally clip claws if they'll let me. I may, in the future, give the cats medication and feed orphan kittens.

I've cut down on cigarettes to the point of only smoking on the weekends. I am still using my vape during the week. It is a step in the right direction, considering I had gotten to the point of smoking a pack a day.

All in all, things are looking up, and I'm really proud of myself.