I believe this will be the last post in this depression series as I feel that I am coming out of the worst of the depression. I had a really interesting conversation with my mum last night about how I spent all of last week in a depression fugue state, and now that I am finding my personality coming through again I realize how worried I was that it wouldn't happen. I was worried that that fugue wouldn't go away, or that when it did I would have lost who I am. I spent a lot of time developing into the person I am - who I happen to quite like in fact - and the thought I may have lost her was pretty scary. But she is coming back, and it is a huge relief.
I got distracted. That's not the point of this post. This post is about the questionable smartness of making decisions while depressed. Not the decision to go home, that decision I have no regrets about - seeing myself come through again I realize just how important it is that I am getting better. However I did make another decision that I have only told a few of you about that will also have lasting effects.
This was first contemplated and planned before the big crash, so it wasn't completely a fugue state impulse. However looking back I fully acknowledge that it was conceived of and planned during the descent, and while I was already in the grips of depression. The actual execution of the decision was while in the fugue state. It was enough to actually break me temporarily out of said state which was nice. Though I don't think this will be my new coping method.
What am I talking about? Why am I being coy? Because I am worried people will judge me for this impulse decision. But here goes. Here is what I am talking about:
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Recovery
Yesterday I found myself laughing at things again. This morning I didn't have to fight with anxiety when I woke up - though partly that's because I was so annoyed with Quirk trying to wake me up by pulling my hair. I won't say I'm totally back to where I want to be, but I feel like glimpses of me are showing through more and more.
I am recovering. It is a quick recovery which tells me that this was mostly definitely a trigger induced episode, and that now that most of those triggers have been taken out of the equation my medications are able to return me to equilibrium. This is a relief, I didn't want to have to go through the hassle of medication changes.
I thought after all my posts describing what depression feels like to me I would talk about something more positive - coping skills. What are some of the skills I have learned that are helping me get through? The biggest thing I recommend is contacting your doctor and/or counsellor of course!
Breathing Exercises
I have mentioned before how I would wake up and be paralyzed by anxiety for up to hours at a time. The biggest thing I could do to get through this was breathing exercises. Nothing fancy, just breathing deeply and focusing on the words "in" and "out". Because we can't keep multiple things in our brain really well, if I focused on those words and only those words I wasn't able to think of the anxiety at the same time and slowly it would disappear.
Expressing Myself
That's what this journal was. Now not everyone is going to want to publish their thoughts and feelings for everyone to see - for all I know there could be some future fallout of me doing so but that's a risk I decided I was willing to take - but it is really important to find some way to get the thoughts out. A lot of the times when I wrote a post was when I found the same thoughts circling in my head over and over and over and starting to eat at me. I realized that if I kept them in they would just keep eating at me. Some things I just journaled privately, but I found that by having it out there for others to know it was more helpful to me. It is important to find some way to acknowledge them and then get those thoughts out - talk to someone, write them down, make art (making art is always a good thing!), anything. Just don't keep them in to eat away at your brain.
Support
I found some online support groups and registered with them as another way to reach out and communicate with others who understand. This goes in with the last one - it's a safer way to tell people those thoughts without putting them quite this public. Sometimes people will have good advice and recommendations, other times they are able to help by just acknowledging your feelings. I don't recommend live chat rooms however - I went into one and found it just left me feeling worse.
Those are the three that I can best put into words. I know there are more that I did, but those are the three big ones. I also called my wonderful mum a lot - sometimes four or five times a day. I am so blessed to have her and that she is so patient and supportive.
Mostly I wanted to post to let people know that I am getting better. I can find myself in all the stuff going on in my brain, and that's a really nice feeling. I am so glad I have skills to cope that ten years ago I didn't.
There will probably be one more post in this series regarding a bit of an impulse decision I made. Until then, thank you to all who have read and who have sent me encouraging messages.
I am recovering. It is a quick recovery which tells me that this was mostly definitely a trigger induced episode, and that now that most of those triggers have been taken out of the equation my medications are able to return me to equilibrium. This is a relief, I didn't want to have to go through the hassle of medication changes.
I thought after all my posts describing what depression feels like to me I would talk about something more positive - coping skills. What are some of the skills I have learned that are helping me get through? The biggest thing I recommend is contacting your doctor and/or counsellor of course!
Breathing Exercises
I have mentioned before how I would wake up and be paralyzed by anxiety for up to hours at a time. The biggest thing I could do to get through this was breathing exercises. Nothing fancy, just breathing deeply and focusing on the words "in" and "out". Because we can't keep multiple things in our brain really well, if I focused on those words and only those words I wasn't able to think of the anxiety at the same time and slowly it would disappear.
Expressing Myself
That's what this journal was. Now not everyone is going to want to publish their thoughts and feelings for everyone to see - for all I know there could be some future fallout of me doing so but that's a risk I decided I was willing to take - but it is really important to find some way to get the thoughts out. A lot of the times when I wrote a post was when I found the same thoughts circling in my head over and over and over and starting to eat at me. I realized that if I kept them in they would just keep eating at me. Some things I just journaled privately, but I found that by having it out there for others to know it was more helpful to me. It is important to find some way to acknowledge them and then get those thoughts out - talk to someone, write them down, make art (making art is always a good thing!), anything. Just don't keep them in to eat away at your brain.
Support
I found some online support groups and registered with them as another way to reach out and communicate with others who understand. This goes in with the last one - it's a safer way to tell people those thoughts without putting them quite this public. Sometimes people will have good advice and recommendations, other times they are able to help by just acknowledging your feelings. I don't recommend live chat rooms however - I went into one and found it just left me feeling worse.
Those are the three that I can best put into words. I know there are more that I did, but those are the three big ones. I also called my wonderful mum a lot - sometimes four or five times a day. I am so blessed to have her and that she is so patient and supportive.
Mostly I wanted to post to let people know that I am getting better. I can find myself in all the stuff going on in my brain, and that's a really nice feeling. I am so glad I have skills to cope that ten years ago I didn't.
There will probably be one more post in this series regarding a bit of an impulse decision I made. Until then, thank you to all who have read and who have sent me encouraging messages.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Moments of Emptiness
In 2012 one of my favourite actors/comedians, Stephen Fry, attempted suicide. Earlier this year he talked about it in an interview and some articles, around the time I came to England for my vacation & interview. I remember sitting on a plane reading an article in which he discussed the suicide attempt and his struggle with the depression side of cyclothymia. I wish I could find the article because there was a great part where he talked about being filming the TV show QI, a very bright and funny show I enjoy a lot, and how on the outside he would be laughing and joking but on the inside he would be completely miserable.
I keep coming back to this idea as I struggle to work through this episode. Most of the time right now I am alone with Quirk so I don't have to fake being okay. In fact I spend a lot of time reaching out to people digitally because simply having some form of communication happening helps keep me from sinking lower without having someone else in the room to see how I'm doing. People and their willingness to text with me about random things or about what's happening are what are getting me through this. But sometimes I'm around people, and will be having a perfectly pleasant and enjoyable time when all of a sudden the bottom drops out. All of a sudden the despair and anxiety and loneliness come rushing in all at once. That sad emptiness inside seizes its moment and reminds me of its existence sending my head spinning. I know people will get tired of hearing about these things so I sit and I smile and I pretend that I'm okay. And I wait for it to pass. And it is so very very hard to do because I feel like I am lying to my loved ones who are trying so hard to help me be okay, but I don't want to burden them by dragging down the mood and saying I'm sad again. Because I'm tired of hearing about me being sad, so they must be. Mostly I'm just tired of being sad. And anxious.
And then the moment passes, and I'm left with a little echo of the emotions but can return to what is happening around me and enjoy it again.
For those wondering about the practical side of my situation here is where it stands: I have plane tickets for me and Quirk (hopefully, we'll come back to that) for Oct 3 back to Canada. The route sucks because it was a rebooking of my Christmas tickets and I had no choice (basically I have an 8 hour layover in Heathrow). That leaves me about a week and a half here in England. In some ways this feels like an eternity, but it is also a very short time to deal with things.
My landlord has insisted that I pay all of October's rent since I didn't give a full month's notice, and that I completely empty the apartment of furniture. Everything. Even though it was leased to the person I inherited it from (I never actually signed a lease with him) as furnished, even though everything here was here when I arrived. This is one of my biggest sources of anxiety right now. I am offering the furniture to the other Canadians here if they can arrange for some way to move it. The rest will go to the British Heart Foundation or be taken away by waste removal people.
My second biggest worry is Quirk. I have her booked to fly the same flights as me, but am concerned if they will let her as she is still having some stomach issues. It definitely is stress related - it seems to be every time the arrangement of who is sleeping here changes that it happens again. I want to take her to the vet about it, but worry that the vet will then refuse to sign the "fit to fly" paperwork. I honestly don't know what I would do or what would happen if I couldn't bring her with me. But I also don't know what I would do if something happened to her. So I think I will call the vet tomorrow and see what they say. I truly believe that if I can just get her home back to where she is comfortable and back to the food & water she is familiar with she will be okay. I just need her to be okay enough to survive the travels (first getting to Manchester somehow, then one flight to London, then another flight home). I think if something did happen to her or if she did have to stay it might just be enough to fully and completely break me - she is my best friend and I need her with me. My anxiety is rising rapidly just thinking about this.
This weekend has been a blessed relief from loneliness thanks to my wonderful friend Vanessa who came out to visit. It is hard to think tomorrow I go back to facing this alone (physically so at least). I just want this to be over and to feel okay again but I suspect that won't happen until I can be back around people I love more of the time.
Otherwise I am just keeping going. I don't want people worrying - I will get through this and be alright. But keeping in contact with me is appreciated, it is the biggest way that people can help right now to distract me with communication. That and taking away furniture and belongings to make that part easier.
I keep coming back to this idea as I struggle to work through this episode. Most of the time right now I am alone with Quirk so I don't have to fake being okay. In fact I spend a lot of time reaching out to people digitally because simply having some form of communication happening helps keep me from sinking lower without having someone else in the room to see how I'm doing. People and their willingness to text with me about random things or about what's happening are what are getting me through this. But sometimes I'm around people, and will be having a perfectly pleasant and enjoyable time when all of a sudden the bottom drops out. All of a sudden the despair and anxiety and loneliness come rushing in all at once. That sad emptiness inside seizes its moment and reminds me of its existence sending my head spinning. I know people will get tired of hearing about these things so I sit and I smile and I pretend that I'm okay. And I wait for it to pass. And it is so very very hard to do because I feel like I am lying to my loved ones who are trying so hard to help me be okay, but I don't want to burden them by dragging down the mood and saying I'm sad again. Because I'm tired of hearing about me being sad, so they must be. Mostly I'm just tired of being sad. And anxious.
And then the moment passes, and I'm left with a little echo of the emotions but can return to what is happening around me and enjoy it again.
For those wondering about the practical side of my situation here is where it stands: I have plane tickets for me and Quirk (hopefully, we'll come back to that) for Oct 3 back to Canada. The route sucks because it was a rebooking of my Christmas tickets and I had no choice (basically I have an 8 hour layover in Heathrow). That leaves me about a week and a half here in England. In some ways this feels like an eternity, but it is also a very short time to deal with things.
My landlord has insisted that I pay all of October's rent since I didn't give a full month's notice, and that I completely empty the apartment of furniture. Everything. Even though it was leased to the person I inherited it from (I never actually signed a lease with him) as furnished, even though everything here was here when I arrived. This is one of my biggest sources of anxiety right now. I am offering the furniture to the other Canadians here if they can arrange for some way to move it. The rest will go to the British Heart Foundation or be taken away by waste removal people.
My second biggest worry is Quirk. I have her booked to fly the same flights as me, but am concerned if they will let her as she is still having some stomach issues. It definitely is stress related - it seems to be every time the arrangement of who is sleeping here changes that it happens again. I want to take her to the vet about it, but worry that the vet will then refuse to sign the "fit to fly" paperwork. I honestly don't know what I would do or what would happen if I couldn't bring her with me. But I also don't know what I would do if something happened to her. So I think I will call the vet tomorrow and see what they say. I truly believe that if I can just get her home back to where she is comfortable and back to the food & water she is familiar with she will be okay. I just need her to be okay enough to survive the travels (first getting to Manchester somehow, then one flight to London, then another flight home). I think if something did happen to her or if she did have to stay it might just be enough to fully and completely break me - she is my best friend and I need her with me. My anxiety is rising rapidly just thinking about this.
This weekend has been a blessed relief from loneliness thanks to my wonderful friend Vanessa who came out to visit. It is hard to think tomorrow I go back to facing this alone (physically so at least). I just want this to be over and to feel okay again but I suspect that won't happen until I can be back around people I love more of the time.
Otherwise I am just keeping going. I don't want people worrying - I will get through this and be alright. But keeping in contact with me is appreciated, it is the biggest way that people can help right now to distract me with communication. That and taking away furniture and belongings to make that part easier.
Friday, September 20, 2013
The Paradox of Getting Better
Well, a few days after starting these entries I find myself in one of the strangest parts for me of these episodes - the getting better part.
I'm nowhere near back to equilibrium. I still have waves of anxiety and times when I randomly just start crying for no reason, my appetite is all over the place (non-existant for most of the day but then suddenly rampant), and I have no energy to do anything most of the time.
But there are times when I'm okay. Times when I'm able to sit calmly and get things done or do relaxing activities or enjoy something. And that's where the paradox comes in...
As soon as I start to enjoy something I get hit by a wave of guilt. I have just made a major life change that has inconvenienced many other people because of my depression and anxiety - I shouldn't be allowed to enjoy anything! At least that's what my brain tells me, and tries to make me feel bad.
Such an unhealthy paradox. I know that the most important thing is for me to grab those moments of calm and enjoyment and focus on them and build on them. Yet every time one happens I feel guilty for not being miserable. This is one of those things that I honestly cannot comment on other peoples' experiences with as I have never discussed it with others in similar situations. Do people have this problem?
This will continue to be a battle over the next few days as I work towards healthy.
I'm nowhere near back to equilibrium. I still have waves of anxiety and times when I randomly just start crying for no reason, my appetite is all over the place (non-existant for most of the day but then suddenly rampant), and I have no energy to do anything most of the time.
But there are times when I'm okay. Times when I'm able to sit calmly and get things done or do relaxing activities or enjoy something. And that's where the paradox comes in...
As soon as I start to enjoy something I get hit by a wave of guilt. I have just made a major life change that has inconvenienced many other people because of my depression and anxiety - I shouldn't be allowed to enjoy anything! At least that's what my brain tells me, and tries to make me feel bad.
Such an unhealthy paradox. I know that the most important thing is for me to grab those moments of calm and enjoyment and focus on them and build on them. Yet every time one happens I feel guilty for not being miserable. This is one of those things that I honestly cannot comment on other peoples' experiences with as I have never discussed it with others in similar situations. Do people have this problem?
This will continue to be a battle over the next few days as I work towards healthy.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
The Art of Taking Risks
This post is part three in my series on depression and anxiety that are being written 90% to help me get through this next little while, 5% to help me process by putting things in words, and 5% to help others understand depression and anxiety better.
I have received some really sweet messages from people saying that they are actually finding my last two posts really valuable in their openness and honesty. One of these messages actually tied in really well with something I have been thinking about a lot lately - the art of not just taking risks, but knowing when to stop. She actually mentioned an event I have been thinking about a lot lately and that I think ties in with the recent events - the time I tried to run an 8K technical race and didn't finish.
What is the connection? When I ran that race I was scared to do it but I gave it a try. I realized partway through that it wasn't working and was putting me in danger, but I was so determined to keep going that I pushed. And pushed. And pushed. I kept pushing. Until I found myself having an asthma attack two kilometres from help and no inhaler (that was due to a separate bit of bad life choices). I put myself in serious danger because I didn't stop when I knew I should stop. Because I forced myself to keep pushing through even when I knew it wasn't going to work.
This is another situation that I was scared to do but gave a try. I realized partway through that it wasn't working, and for a short while I continued to push. What's the difference? That time I put my life in danger because I couldn't admit when it was time to stop. This time I decided to stop. This time I saw the writing on the wall and decided to step back and keep myself safe.
~~~
The people from the school have been very supportive since I made my decision. I had a really interesting conversation with them on Monday where we discussed the idea I'm trying to get to today. I told them that if I had thought this would happen like this I would never have come and that I felt bad about things. They said something amazing -that just because I have depression doesn't mean I shouldn't ever take risks.
What a thought. Just because I have depression doesn't mean I shouldn't take risks. I can take risks. Risks are okay.
What a thought. I spent most of my life playing absolutely everything as safe as possible. I did nothing to draw attention to myself, nothing that could put me at risk of being hurt physically, nothing that could put me at risk of embarrassment or pain or worst of all failure. In the last few years I have been growing out of this. I started to be able to take risks and come out of my safe little shell. I loved it, feeling like I was brave and capable.
Now I have encountered a risk that knocked me down pretty hard. So how do I respond? Do I go back into my safe little shell? Or do I keep taking risks even knowing how badly it can end?
I choose option c. I keep taking risks but I keep this lesson in mind: it is alright to acknowledge when something is not working and when a risk hasn't turned out. But I do not let this defeat me and stop me from living a full life. Because then this really would be a failure.
I have received some really sweet messages from people saying that they are actually finding my last two posts really valuable in their openness and honesty. One of these messages actually tied in really well with something I have been thinking about a lot lately - the art of not just taking risks, but knowing when to stop. She actually mentioned an event I have been thinking about a lot lately and that I think ties in with the recent events - the time I tried to run an 8K technical race and didn't finish.
What is the connection? When I ran that race I was scared to do it but I gave it a try. I realized partway through that it wasn't working and was putting me in danger, but I was so determined to keep going that I pushed. And pushed. And pushed. I kept pushing. Until I found myself having an asthma attack two kilometres from help and no inhaler (that was due to a separate bit of bad life choices). I put myself in serious danger because I didn't stop when I knew I should stop. Because I forced myself to keep pushing through even when I knew it wasn't going to work.
This is another situation that I was scared to do but gave a try. I realized partway through that it wasn't working, and for a short while I continued to push. What's the difference? That time I put my life in danger because I couldn't admit when it was time to stop. This time I decided to stop. This time I saw the writing on the wall and decided to step back and keep myself safe.
~~~
The people from the school have been very supportive since I made my decision. I had a really interesting conversation with them on Monday where we discussed the idea I'm trying to get to today. I told them that if I had thought this would happen like this I would never have come and that I felt bad about things. They said something amazing -that just because I have depression doesn't mean I shouldn't ever take risks.
What a thought. Just because I have depression doesn't mean I shouldn't take risks. I can take risks. Risks are okay.
What a thought. I spent most of my life playing absolutely everything as safe as possible. I did nothing to draw attention to myself, nothing that could put me at risk of being hurt physically, nothing that could put me at risk of embarrassment or pain or worst of all failure. In the last few years I have been growing out of this. I started to be able to take risks and come out of my safe little shell. I loved it, feeling like I was brave and capable.
Now I have encountered a risk that knocked me down pretty hard. So how do I respond? Do I go back into my safe little shell? Or do I keep taking risks even knowing how badly it can end?
I choose option c. I keep taking risks but I keep this lesson in mind: it is alright to acknowledge when something is not working and when a risk hasn't turned out. But I do not let this defeat me and stop me from living a full life. Because then this really would be a failure.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Life in depression/anxiety
I just submitted and shared a post explaining the situation I have found myself in - on the other side of the world from my normal support system in a depression/anxiety relapse and trying to cope while also trying to get home as quickly as possible.
What I want to do in this post is explain a bit what it feels like to me. Something I need to make VERY clear is that every person who has depression or anxiety issues will experience things completely different. Some may have similarities to how I experience it, but no two people will have the same feelings and reactions. So this is not how anyone with these issues experiences them, it is how I experience them. Particularly how I am experiencing them this time, as it is different than from when I was younger. I have more life experience now and it changes how I feel and how things affect me.
The depression side of the coin:
While the two issues are incredibly and inextricably linked I am going to try to separate out my thoughts into those that would be considered more "depression" and those that would be considered more "anxiety".
Depression involves a number of things for me. One is simply uncontrollable crying. Sunday morning I spent four hours lying in bed sobbing. If you asked me why I was crying I would not have been able to tell you, I was just crying. This had been happening a lot over the last few weeks, I would start crying (sometimes with a trigger, sometimes with a seemingly trigger but not really about that, and sometimes for no reason at all). I could still experience happiness and have fun - I really did have fun at some of the social events that happened recently - but then when alone the tears would start.
It also involves a feeling of physical fatigue, where the body just says no. Getting up and going into work was getting harder and harder each day. And while I was still enjoying things, the enjoyment was always a little bit tainted. Like I was looking at everything around me through a dim lens.
The depression side of its coin reaches its worst when the suicide ideation begins. This was the line in the sand I had drawn. Don't get me wrong, I had already been at the point of "maybe if I get hit by a bus I don't have to deal with work and all this stuff for a few weeks while I recover" but last weekend was when I reached the "maybe I should just walk into the North Sea. Either I'll drown or die of hypothermia, but either way I won't be here anymore" point. Why? Because I was so overwhelmed I just couldn't imagine another day. Why didn't I? Because there's a part of me that remembers just how good it can get, and knew that there were better ways out.
Self-harm is another issue all together. People self-harm for a variety of reasons and I don't want to make it sound like I speak for anyone but me. The last time I self-injured was in University (either first or second year). I was dealing with depression and anxiety and a lot of stress and it just kept feeling like the emotions and problems were building and building and building inside of me and becoming pressure. Cutting was a way to release that pressure. I remember exactly where the last time I cut was - on my right leg just below the knee. As things got better this stopped happening and I never self-harmed again. I really didn't even have urges anymore, it was part of my past. But a big reason I knew it was time to step away here was that the urge was back. The pressure was building up and building up and building up and I knew I could make it release. I knew I could get temporary relief, but I didn't want that. I wanted things to get better for real. Instead I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed until I fell asleep, then woke up sobbing some more and made the decision to save myself.
The anxiety side of the coin:
Anxiety affects me in a large variety of ways, and one of the ways is by interacting with the depression just discussed. A lot of the crying fits are initiated by an anxiety trigger first or by the feeling I can't cope which is the anxiety speaking.
But there are other effects to anxiety. Physical, emotional, neurological.
To explain what an acute anxiety attack can feel like I want to go back to the last one I had before this. It is actually the only one I've had in the last 5 years, and it didn't worry me too much because it was well explained. I had been training as a runner (still am, or at least will be when I get home). I ran a few 5K races and then decided to join a friend of mine running an 8K technical race. I had no idea just how technical they meant it was. I'm pretty sure there's a blog post somewhere describing the comedy of errors that that race was, but suffice to say that by the time I was having an asthma attack 2 or more km from help and with no one else on the trail my anxiety was pretty high. Looking back it is really interesting to try to separate out the two attacks as they are so similar in certain effects - with either one I can't breathe. I feel panicked and scared and my lungs just won't work. I think I cycled back and forth between the two: the asthma causing an anxiety attack which kept me from regaining my breath so furthered the asthma attack. It was a horrible, horrible experience.
An acute anxiety attack always is. I stop being able to breathe, I have to fight for every breath into my body. I burst into tears and I can't stop moving. Or sometimes I can't start moving. I often keel over into the fetal position because my body stops being able to support it's own weight. Sometimes I think I'm going to die. I had a couple of these over the last few weeks, usually out of the eyes of anyone else. They are not pleasant.
So there's acute anxiety attacks. But what about just generalized high anxiety? Well that's where I am mostly at now. The depression is receding but the anxiety is still very very high. I wake up in the morning and it feels like a physical presence weighing down on me while at the same time my heart starts racing. The last couple days I have spent a couple hours in the morning focusing on nothing but breathing until that starts to feel like a normal activity again and I can start doing other things. From there the anxiety will ebb and flow during the day. Sometimes I am almost me, other times the weight comes back and I can't breathe. I become irrationally obsessed with things that are either not that big a deal or a fixable problem. But I can't see past them. So I sit and I breathe. And I breathe some more. And some more. And if that isn't helping I take a sedative and keep breathing. And eventually it recedes again and I can resume trying to solve the problems. If you get a really intense message from me it is probably during one of these crests of anxiety - I apologize.
I hope that gives you an insight into what it is like for a person (or at least this person) battling depression and anxiety. A lot of people ask how they can help - keep in touch with me. Even if you don't know what to say, send me random thoughts and messages. The more connected to people I feel the more I stay in the low anxiety zone.
What I want to do in this post is explain a bit what it feels like to me. Something I need to make VERY clear is that every person who has depression or anxiety issues will experience things completely different. Some may have similarities to how I experience it, but no two people will have the same feelings and reactions. So this is not how anyone with these issues experiences them, it is how I experience them. Particularly how I am experiencing them this time, as it is different than from when I was younger. I have more life experience now and it changes how I feel and how things affect me.
The depression side of the coin:
While the two issues are incredibly and inextricably linked I am going to try to separate out my thoughts into those that would be considered more "depression" and those that would be considered more "anxiety".
Depression involves a number of things for me. One is simply uncontrollable crying. Sunday morning I spent four hours lying in bed sobbing. If you asked me why I was crying I would not have been able to tell you, I was just crying. This had been happening a lot over the last few weeks, I would start crying (sometimes with a trigger, sometimes with a seemingly trigger but not really about that, and sometimes for no reason at all). I could still experience happiness and have fun - I really did have fun at some of the social events that happened recently - but then when alone the tears would start.
It also involves a feeling of physical fatigue, where the body just says no. Getting up and going into work was getting harder and harder each day. And while I was still enjoying things, the enjoyment was always a little bit tainted. Like I was looking at everything around me through a dim lens.
The depression side of its coin reaches its worst when the suicide ideation begins. This was the line in the sand I had drawn. Don't get me wrong, I had already been at the point of "maybe if I get hit by a bus I don't have to deal with work and all this stuff for a few weeks while I recover" but last weekend was when I reached the "maybe I should just walk into the North Sea. Either I'll drown or die of hypothermia, but either way I won't be here anymore" point. Why? Because I was so overwhelmed I just couldn't imagine another day. Why didn't I? Because there's a part of me that remembers just how good it can get, and knew that there were better ways out.
Self-harm is another issue all together. People self-harm for a variety of reasons and I don't want to make it sound like I speak for anyone but me. The last time I self-injured was in University (either first or second year). I was dealing with depression and anxiety and a lot of stress and it just kept feeling like the emotions and problems were building and building and building inside of me and becoming pressure. Cutting was a way to release that pressure. I remember exactly where the last time I cut was - on my right leg just below the knee. As things got better this stopped happening and I never self-harmed again. I really didn't even have urges anymore, it was part of my past. But a big reason I knew it was time to step away here was that the urge was back. The pressure was building up and building up and building up and I knew I could make it release. I knew I could get temporary relief, but I didn't want that. I wanted things to get better for real. Instead I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed until I fell asleep, then woke up sobbing some more and made the decision to save myself.
The anxiety side of the coin:
Anxiety affects me in a large variety of ways, and one of the ways is by interacting with the depression just discussed. A lot of the crying fits are initiated by an anxiety trigger first or by the feeling I can't cope which is the anxiety speaking.
But there are other effects to anxiety. Physical, emotional, neurological.
To explain what an acute anxiety attack can feel like I want to go back to the last one I had before this. It is actually the only one I've had in the last 5 years, and it didn't worry me too much because it was well explained. I had been training as a runner (still am, or at least will be when I get home). I ran a few 5K races and then decided to join a friend of mine running an 8K technical race. I had no idea just how technical they meant it was. I'm pretty sure there's a blog post somewhere describing the comedy of errors that that race was, but suffice to say that by the time I was having an asthma attack 2 or more km from help and with no one else on the trail my anxiety was pretty high. Looking back it is really interesting to try to separate out the two attacks as they are so similar in certain effects - with either one I can't breathe. I feel panicked and scared and my lungs just won't work. I think I cycled back and forth between the two: the asthma causing an anxiety attack which kept me from regaining my breath so furthered the asthma attack. It was a horrible, horrible experience.
An acute anxiety attack always is. I stop being able to breathe, I have to fight for every breath into my body. I burst into tears and I can't stop moving. Or sometimes I can't start moving. I often keel over into the fetal position because my body stops being able to support it's own weight. Sometimes I think I'm going to die. I had a couple of these over the last few weeks, usually out of the eyes of anyone else. They are not pleasant.
So there's acute anxiety attacks. But what about just generalized high anxiety? Well that's where I am mostly at now. The depression is receding but the anxiety is still very very high. I wake up in the morning and it feels like a physical presence weighing down on me while at the same time my heart starts racing. The last couple days I have spent a couple hours in the morning focusing on nothing but breathing until that starts to feel like a normal activity again and I can start doing other things. From there the anxiety will ebb and flow during the day. Sometimes I am almost me, other times the weight comes back and I can't breathe. I become irrationally obsessed with things that are either not that big a deal or a fixable problem. But I can't see past them. So I sit and I breathe. And I breathe some more. And some more. And if that isn't helping I take a sedative and keep breathing. And eventually it recedes again and I can resume trying to solve the problems. If you get a really intense message from me it is probably during one of these crests of anxiety - I apologize.
I hope that gives you an insight into what it is like for a person (or at least this person) battling depression and anxiety. A lot of people ask how they can help - keep in touch with me. Even if you don't know what to say, send me random thoughts and messages. The more connected to people I feel the more I stay in the low anxiety zone.
An adventure turns to depression and why I'm going home.
Hello all.
I know some of you have known me for a lot of years so know about my history, but some of you only recently came to know me and don't have that context. I have always been a very open person about my struggles, both because I find talking with people about it discourages stigma and because that is how I get through tough times - talking and getting support. Not everyone is always comfortable with the way I share my feelings, so I will give those people a warning this is probably not a post you want to read.
I may regret posting this publicly at some point, but I refuse to hide who I am and what my life is. And right now my life is tough. So here goes.
When I was younger I had a lot of issues with depression and anxiety. I don't think going into all the detail here is helpful, but I was first suicidal at a very young age and struggled through must of my adolescent years. I was lucky to have an incredibly supportive family who helped me find good resources.
When I moved to the city to attend University at the age of 18 I knew it was important I set up some resources right away. I got very lucky and ended up with a fantastic psychiatrist who I have worked with since. I also found myself involved in a peer support group for people with depression and bipolar as well as other affective disorders. This was about a decade ago. Over that decade I did a lot of intense therapy, tried different combinations of medication, and grew a lot. The last time I had serious suicidal thoughts or harmed myself was about 7 years ago. I got my degree in education and became an "adult". I worked a variety of jobs, some teaching and some non-classroom. I became a very high-functioning person and my doctor felt that I was no longer someone with depression so much as someone with childhood issues that were getting resolved and a tendency towards anxiety.
This year I decided to take a big, giant risk. I decided to try something I had considered in the past but not done - moving overseas to teach. I talked with my doctor and we both felt that I had come far enough that I should be okay. I dismantled my life and moved to England with a teaching contract lined up and a sense of adventure. My first few weeks here were hard in terms of homesickness, I realized how strongly tied to my hometown I am. During this time we did some training and induction stuff and I met amazing people here which helped a lot. I was able to enjoy a summer where I was happy and stable, if still homesick, and having the adventure I wanted. There were a couple blips in the road, particularly concerning instability of my living situation, but things got sorted and I was feeling positive.
Then school started. That was two and a half weeks ago. This is not the time or place to try to discuss what all triggered things the way it did, but that is when things went downhill fast. Within the first week I had my first anxiety attack in years. I was coming home in tears more often than not, and really struggling with my sense of self in this system. Within the first week I also had my first meltdown, where I was unable to finish a day of teaching due to uncontrollable crying. I told my mentor as well as my department leadership what was happening and they were very supportive. Taking the advice of them and others who have been through the relocation experience I focused on taking good care of myself and managed to tread water for about another week. Then some things happened that were out of my control. Again this is not the place to go into details, I'm not sure anywhere is except my doctor's office. But I found myself somewhere I have not been in a long time - having suicidal thoughts and fighting the urge to self-harm.
Now a quick bit of information - these two things are not the same nor do they necessarily relate as much as it sounds. The last time I self-harmed was in University when I felt the pressure of my emotions to be too much and found that the physical pain released that pressure. It was not at that time a desire to die or anything related to suicide. This time was similar - I wanted the pressure release. But this time it did accompany suicidal ideation.
So that brings me to where I am now. I decided that I could try to force myself to continue and maybe it would get better, but most likely it would only postpone an even worse crash to come. I don't have the resources and supports that I used to have, and while many fantastic people here have been very supportive it is not the same thing as having proper medical supports. I am in the process of getting supports here but it was taking too long. I decided that it was better for me and the students that I leave now than that I stay and something worse happen down the road. If I'm honest my brain wasn't functioning properly - I found myself going into sensory overload a lot and being unable to process everything happening - which was not good for the students anyway. So I made the decision and I am returning to Canada.
But not yet. I have loose ends to tie up, and I don't know how quickly I can get them tied up. I have a housing situation to deal with, flights to rearrange, material possessions to get rid of, accounts to close and sort out (gas and water and such). I expect it will take at least two weeks for me to finish everything. So two weeks of being still away from my supports, having empty days ahead of me, and feeling incredibly alone. I am so lucky to have supportive people in my life. I am just unlucky that a seven hour time difference means that the hardest part of the day is when they are mostly asleep (and the rest who are here are at work).
So there's my story. Not posted for pity, but so that people can see what truly happened and know the truth. And so I can discuss the next parts. So I can write the next post I want to write explaining what depression and anxiety feel like to me. And the next part about risk taking with the added risk of depression. And a third or fourth or fifth possible parts as I try to explore my thoughts on this scenario while also trying to help those who don't quite understand but want to to see what it is like without burdening them by making them listen individualy.
I know some of you have known me for a lot of years so know about my history, but some of you only recently came to know me and don't have that context. I have always been a very open person about my struggles, both because I find talking with people about it discourages stigma and because that is how I get through tough times - talking and getting support. Not everyone is always comfortable with the way I share my feelings, so I will give those people a warning this is probably not a post you want to read.
I may regret posting this publicly at some point, but I refuse to hide who I am and what my life is. And right now my life is tough. So here goes.
When I was younger I had a lot of issues with depression and anxiety. I don't think going into all the detail here is helpful, but I was first suicidal at a very young age and struggled through must of my adolescent years. I was lucky to have an incredibly supportive family who helped me find good resources.
When I moved to the city to attend University at the age of 18 I knew it was important I set up some resources right away. I got very lucky and ended up with a fantastic psychiatrist who I have worked with since. I also found myself involved in a peer support group for people with depression and bipolar as well as other affective disorders. This was about a decade ago. Over that decade I did a lot of intense therapy, tried different combinations of medication, and grew a lot. The last time I had serious suicidal thoughts or harmed myself was about 7 years ago. I got my degree in education and became an "adult". I worked a variety of jobs, some teaching and some non-classroom. I became a very high-functioning person and my doctor felt that I was no longer someone with depression so much as someone with childhood issues that were getting resolved and a tendency towards anxiety.
This year I decided to take a big, giant risk. I decided to try something I had considered in the past but not done - moving overseas to teach. I talked with my doctor and we both felt that I had come far enough that I should be okay. I dismantled my life and moved to England with a teaching contract lined up and a sense of adventure. My first few weeks here were hard in terms of homesickness, I realized how strongly tied to my hometown I am. During this time we did some training and induction stuff and I met amazing people here which helped a lot. I was able to enjoy a summer where I was happy and stable, if still homesick, and having the adventure I wanted. There were a couple blips in the road, particularly concerning instability of my living situation, but things got sorted and I was feeling positive.
Then school started. That was two and a half weeks ago. This is not the time or place to try to discuss what all triggered things the way it did, but that is when things went downhill fast. Within the first week I had my first anxiety attack in years. I was coming home in tears more often than not, and really struggling with my sense of self in this system. Within the first week I also had my first meltdown, where I was unable to finish a day of teaching due to uncontrollable crying. I told my mentor as well as my department leadership what was happening and they were very supportive. Taking the advice of them and others who have been through the relocation experience I focused on taking good care of myself and managed to tread water for about another week. Then some things happened that were out of my control. Again this is not the place to go into details, I'm not sure anywhere is except my doctor's office. But I found myself somewhere I have not been in a long time - having suicidal thoughts and fighting the urge to self-harm.
Now a quick bit of information - these two things are not the same nor do they necessarily relate as much as it sounds. The last time I self-harmed was in University when I felt the pressure of my emotions to be too much and found that the physical pain released that pressure. It was not at that time a desire to die or anything related to suicide. This time was similar - I wanted the pressure release. But this time it did accompany suicidal ideation.
So that brings me to where I am now. I decided that I could try to force myself to continue and maybe it would get better, but most likely it would only postpone an even worse crash to come. I don't have the resources and supports that I used to have, and while many fantastic people here have been very supportive it is not the same thing as having proper medical supports. I am in the process of getting supports here but it was taking too long. I decided that it was better for me and the students that I leave now than that I stay and something worse happen down the road. If I'm honest my brain wasn't functioning properly - I found myself going into sensory overload a lot and being unable to process everything happening - which was not good for the students anyway. So I made the decision and I am returning to Canada.
But not yet. I have loose ends to tie up, and I don't know how quickly I can get them tied up. I have a housing situation to deal with, flights to rearrange, material possessions to get rid of, accounts to close and sort out (gas and water and such). I expect it will take at least two weeks for me to finish everything. So two weeks of being still away from my supports, having empty days ahead of me, and feeling incredibly alone. I am so lucky to have supportive people in my life. I am just unlucky that a seven hour time difference means that the hardest part of the day is when they are mostly asleep (and the rest who are here are at work).
So there's my story. Not posted for pity, but so that people can see what truly happened and know the truth. And so I can discuss the next parts. So I can write the next post I want to write explaining what depression and anxiety feel like to me. And the next part about risk taking with the added risk of depression. And a third or fourth or fifth possible parts as I try to explore my thoughts on this scenario while also trying to help those who don't quite understand but want to to see what it is like without burdening them by making them listen individualy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)