Tag Archives: depression

So Richly Grieved

It’s a simple story – we were friends. He moved to LA, fell in love with a woman that didn’t like me (partially because I drank too much, I think, and I her boyfriend and I were too close.) They moved in together and pretty much that was it. I’ve seen him only a few times since then. They’ve long broken up, he’s moved to Africa and back and married a different woman.

I wish it was that simple.

It’s almost like he chose death. I can’t have my friend back, ever. No one believes me that I never was in love with him – but I was pretty drunk the summer we spent the most time together and we never wound up…. I won’t insult you with going into those details. I thought our friendship was strong. Turns out it wasn’t. I won’t go to any effort to contact him again. My donotcall.mal list is getting longer and longer and I can’t figure out why. It’s men, gay men, married men, married gay men, that either forget about me or decide they don’t want a relationship with me any more. I am naive enough to wonder why.

My bff T has reminded me, under a different situation with a similar end, that people would die to have friends so perfectly matched as the two of us. She is right – and she makes me really happy to think about. She is wonderful fun and kind and oh so generous. If I am wearing something new while drinking Peet’s coffee, it is because of T. I have another great friend, the mighty peridot (greenegem.wordpress.com) and we can talk about everything and do. She is not-bipolar, but has the heart of someone who does. I can even count my husband most of those days. While we are not very BFF we are going to get that way again, I am confident about that. I am so grateful for them! They bring so much light to my life. Today the sky is periwinkle. I am serious. I am not trying to be poet-or (and I never would use periwinkle in a poem anyway.) Thinking about my friends makes me think they are partially responsible for this clear, periwinkle sky. If they didn’t paint it, they helped make it possible for my head to be tilted back so I can see it.

When I’m thinking of my current non-friends I don’t think about my really good now friends. I, naturally, want to think about all the others – and of course they are many – that have broken or fallen by the wayside. They make me yell with frustration. Why do I even let them in to my new brain? I am reminded of Sherlock Holmes who has no idea the way the universe works but can sniff out a murderer with one of her abandoned shoes. If I could fill my little heart only with the people that loved my back, maybe my heart could grow until I truly can love my enemies, not in a way that frustrates me or degrades me, but with a pure, clear love. No mushy stuff – yes Jesus stuff.


the day I deserve

I am off kilter. Last night my husband and I watched Sherlock over the internet. If you have any sense you will find it and watch it yourself. I thought about it all last night and woke up this morning with him in my brain. I feel frightened. I’m attributing it to the scary British tv show, not to anything real…

But I’m anxious, no matter what caused it, I still am anxious and I need to do whatever it takes to get out of it so it doesn’t become depression, and depression doesn’t lead to death. The last time I was depressed my seven year old asked me, “Do you feel like you don’t deserve anything?”

I thought about it for a minute. “Yes, yes I do.” That really is a part of all the moods I travel through. You can call it self-pity. I don’t care what you call it, actually. For me, those feelings come and bad things happen. No chemically balanced person can say that.

“You deserve ME!” She told me with out stretched arms. A perfectly acceptable time for a hug. I deserve her.

I asked her if she ever felt that way. Her answer was a simple “no”. This child has so much self esteem it is, as her North Dakotan aunt would say, “disgusting.” She is confident. She is happy about 80% of the time. She will pretend to be sad, some of the time, but I have never seen her pretend to be happy. Maybe it comes naturally to her and maybe we’ve built it in to her. Either way, the feeling I don’t deserve anything is mostly gone for me today. It’s just the fear without discernible cause that is getting to me today.


Just Married! (For ten years)

I’m up and down.  Therapy is going well and my husband and I are going to go to marital counseling and he is cool with it.  Last time we had any sort of family therapy the social worker said she’d never met such resistance.  There wasn’t resistance, it’s just that my husband is shy and very private I  keep some things to myself. I’ll participate in therapeutic groups, but I am guarded.   My new psychologist pointed out that every time she tried to steer things about my marriage I guided that boat away.  I went to a counselor and I didn’t bring my husband up for over a year and she respected that.  Not exactly relevant and we will see how therapy goes.  We have been on three dates in the last two and a half.  It’s kind of ridiculous.  If I’m not on top of things we don’t spend any time alone at all.  Ah, I’m complaining.  

 
I wonder if you read the Break (the blog entry above this one).  I may do the yoga tonight as prescribed and I really hope I do.  It’s the only time I feel in control.  I don’t know how spending 30 minutes  doing one thing effects your whole day.  I have a good idea how a pill or a drink do, though.  It might be the same with the exercise.  I’m sure there are people I could ask (hello, Hubo?) but I don’t want to know.  Not now anyway.  I feel like I need to get my lifer in order.  I just realized that I say that all the time, and that I do not know what it means.  It meant getting my weight under control and reading my Bible.  It’s time to re-evaluate.  I don’t know exactly where to start.  My work book given to me by my therapist is about automatic thoughts and emotions and how to look at things reasonably.  I’m not so great about that, but everyone has a place to start, right?  The psychologist said I was better off than a lot of her other clients.  I did creative things, had good organizational skills and worked towards getting well.  A lot of hers just lay on the couch and watch t.v. all the time.  I remind myself of this.  It is possible for me to be better, but my life is worth living.  I just want more from it

Still Reeling

If you don’t know me, I’m boring you, but if you don’t know me, I don’t think you’re reading this blog.  

I went to the psychiatrist today.  (A psychiatrist is a MD who prescribes medication.)  She was shocked and horrified by my Inderal overdose.  “We would both be in trouble,” she said, and spent the rest of our appointment reeling.  This was serious stuff.  “It just wasn’t your time,” she said.  I had done a very dangerous thing.  I have mostly stayed cool about this stuff, but, to be honest, hearing from the doctor herself that it might have been the real end is oddly thrilling.  It’s like setting things up for a suicide attempt, some thing I’ve only almost one once.  It’s titillating.  There is so much grief and pain that comes before an attempt.  I didn’t have those feelings about taking all those pills.  It’s only now, in retrospect, almost a week later, that I’m really allowing myself to have any feelings about it.  I regret to say it’s kind of exciting.  I wish it was just that I felt relieved.  I don’t, not yet.  Maybe when I get my mind wrapped around it I’ll have another experience.

My husband says that I didn’t die, or get very sick, so there is nothing to say or do about it.  I could make myself think about this, or even believe it, but I don’t have that kind of maturity.  Not yet.  


How Far Do you Go?

I deal with a lot of health care practitioners – I have a serious, incurable mental illness. (Bipolar, along with OCD and ADD). Before my diagnosis I played around with different things to help my depression – Rescue Remedy, that I became psychologically addicted to, St John’s Wort, which I never remembered to take, and therapists.

Once I was diagnosed with depression I was adamant that I would never need drugs for my illness, and if I’d just cowboy up it would go away. We were talking about a “major depressive disorder.” Years later when I received a more accurate diagnosis they admitted me to the hospital and started putting me on medications. [spoiler] Five years later I take at least eleven pills a day. [/spoiler] I see a therapist every couple of weeks and when I need it I go to group therapies. One of the groups I was a part of was called Dialectial Behavior Therapy (DBT) It is based on Buddhist teachings, although I believe it never fell in to heresy.

I think the “heresy” is where my long ole post fits in. In the groups, we studied mindfulness, learned to avoid black and white thinking and radical acceptance. These are a part of Zen Buddhism. While nothing in the class offended me, I did read a book by one of the speakers that I thought was repugnant. He repeatedly and purposefully used the Bible out of context to prove that all religious teachings espoused the same thing. It was frustrating and I am at the point I cannot take any of his teachings graciously because he so offended my faith. Now, if his messages totally turned my life around, I may not be so quick to kick him to the curb, but ultimately I believe that someone so spiritually lost is not someone I want to take spiritual advice from, even if the temptation was great. If he were a psychiatrist, though, that would be different. My psychiatrist is from the Middle East and shared with me that she meditated, but we didn’t discuss it further. It’s not appropriate, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that she is an excellent doctor. If she was handing out crystals and fliers inviting me to worship them with her, that would be different, but she’s not.

All of this medicine that I am about to take is taken by someone who eschewed aspirin. Sometimes, when I get tired of it, I think, why do I do this? And the answer is, because you are going to die if you don’t.

I do want to be healed, most of the time. Bipolar can cave in on you if you’re not very careful. I am not willing to deny Jesus to do it, though. I think there are all kinds of practitioners that can do great work but I would not be willing to set aside my beliefs or relationship with God to have it done. I’m not passive, I just don’t want to be a part of it. I want my end of the equation to ultimately glorify God. For some reason I am thinking of that old “psychic surgery” scene in the end of the Man on the Moon movie. He has incurable, un-treatable cancer and he flies around the world for a “miracle.” http://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=xy53Un2AXpU (work safe) He sees that there is no miracle to be found.

I’m looking for a point to everything I just wrote. I suppose it’s this. I went far looking for help for myself. The best way for me to help myself was with medication and therapy – both decidedly “Western” although the medication more than the therapy. I also needed the body of Christ is work towards being well – that’s a Universal idea, right? I’m not ever going to be 100% well on this side of paradise, but I know that Western medication is going to push me along that path. Medication can be miraculous too, right?


The Worst Parent Ever

I have nothing to say today.  I am devastated that God, again, has given a child  to people who are mean to their, now four, boys.  I was just talking to my Small.  Taylor Swift had won Entertainer of the Year at CMT, the highest honor CMT can bestow.  I was explaining how important and wonderful it must be to her, second to knowing God and third to having a Small.  I wanted her to know how very wonderful it was to have her and be able to give her kisses and hugs and loves.  

So I’m here, crying and stuff.  I texted my bff T, but she’s probably busy at the Mission helping homeless women like the good person she is.  I am sitting in front of dirty dishes.  I will not wash them, but I will fold and put away clothes.

Not so exciting today.  


Facebook Break – R for language

I’m talking a three week break from both Facebook and GCM. I had some idiots from my past pop up and they are calling me a stalker. Really, all I wanted to do was return a f-cking photo album to my high school sweetheart. He had a highly dysfunctional relationship that ended with him moving to Alaska. I knew he was back in the continental United States. I hadn’t been able to find him, but I did find his wife. Most of her pictures are of him. I emailed her trying to get them back to her, ex-bf’s bff sent me a pm through facebook saying they didn’t want it. Then he defriended me and blocked me from his photography page.

Then, he went ahead and posted on his facebook page that stalkers were not welcome there.

F-ck you. I was trying to be nice – treat people the way I wanted to be treated. That blew up.

What else happened lately? The stupidity with L. My old good friend and his new wife, without warning, are not answering my pms. It’s like we went from long time great friends to ancient acquaintances. it hurts.

So, those are the three reasons I am dropping face book. My brother agreed to get the pictures from my mom to destroy them, but by the time he got to their house my dad had already trashed them. My mom wanted to send them to his parents, but I believe my mom might actually have respected the boundary.

B doesn’t want us to have contact with anyone we’d had sex with before. That is probably a good idea, and I respect it. I respect it even more now. My brother said it is better to stay away from anyone you’ve ever dated because no good can ever come with it. They are right. I wish folks could be mature and have the ability to wish each other well, but that’s not how their clique rolls.

On another note, I may lose my job. Ah well, gives me more time for writing. I will make good use of the time. At least I hope I will.