Meanwhile, my words are tucked away

Sometimes it’s comforting that someone else has found the words to describe the things you wish you could, but the things you wish you could are busy stealing your life away.

Here are some very perfect quotes on depression I found this evening. I’m not crying, you’re crying…

“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.”
― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

“I didn’t want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that’s really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you’re so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.”
― Ned Vizzini

“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.”
― Laurell K. Hamilton

“The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.”
― David Foster Wallace

“That’s the thing about depression: A human being can survive almost anything, as long as she sees the end in sight. But depression is so insidious, and it compounds daily, that it’s impossible to ever see the end.”
― Elizabeth Wurtzel

“If you know someone who’s depressed, please resolve never to ask them why. Depression isn’t a straightforward response to a bad situation; depression just is, like the weather.

Try to understand the blackness, lethargy, hopelessness, and loneliness they’re going through. Be there for them when they come through the other side. It’s hard to be a friend to someone who’s depressed, but it is one of the kindest, noblest, and best things you will ever do.”
― Stephen Fry

“Some friends don’t understand this. They don’t understand how desperate I am to have someone say, I love you and I support you just the way you are because you’re wonderful just the way you are. They don’t understand that I can’t remember anyone ever saying that to me. I am so demanding and difficult for my friends because I want to crumble and fall apart before them so that they will love me even though I am no fun, lying in bed, crying all the time, not moving. Depression is all about If you loved me you would.”
― Elizabeth Wurtzel

“The worst type of crying wasn’t the kind everyone could see–the wailing on street corners, the tearing at clothes. No, the worst kind happened when your soul wept and no matter what you did, there was no way to comfort it. A section withered and became a scar on the part of your soul that survived. For people like me and Echo, our souls contained more scar tissue than life.”
― Katie McGarry

“Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear. The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden: it is easier to say “My tooth is aching” than to say “My heart is broken.”
― C.S. Lewis

“When you’re lost in those woods, it sometimes takes you a while to realize that you are lost. For the longest time, you can convince yourself that you’ve just wandered off the path, that you’ll find your way back to the trailhead any moment now. Then night falls again and again, and you still have no idea where you are, and it’s time to admit that you have bewildered yourself so far off the path that you don’t even know from which direction the sun rises anymore.”
― Elizabeth Gilbert

Suicidal Idiation – What a pain in the ass thing to have right now.

Now, I’m in trouble. But I’m getting help. The months long battle of baseline depression had at first dipped then slid then plummeted me into my own grave which I’ve wanted to cover myself in this past week. Last night I politely nodded to myself while the rivers ran blood down my cheeks that I ought to check myself into a hospital, I was ready to kill myself. But all the methods seem so very painful for one’s last moments and hospitals are very expensive so instead I told my boss (who is like a friend as well) that I needed to get help and was wondering if I could get time off, just for a bit, to do so.

She, being one of my biggest supporters it turns out, arranged immediately to set a plan with me for the rest of the week off (this was my idea to go back to work Monday after speaking with my doctor tomorrow and hopefully getting pumped full of antidepressants and rainbows) and she’s even got my back if I need a bit more time than that to get adjusted and ‘get help’. I told a couple people what was going on, and even my folks, which was the hardest for me to do. Everyone has of course been supportive though for whatever reason I feared the opposite, and obviously I’m alive enough to spit out a few words while I’m coping with the ‘help/healing’ process. I spent my day being distracted by things I haven’t much joy in anymore, and sleeping (which was great until a split second after I woke up and I remembered reality was a thing). The screwy nap schedule has me awake right now, but I don’t work tomorrow and I’m so goddamn down that I don’t much care. I haven’t showered in days, I’ve been hiding in the same clothes, my best friend had no idea I was so sad and struggling to this point, and I’m glad I could keep the face up I suppose.
I was reminded very seriously of Robin Williams this evening during my 2 hour sob in bed and at my computer watching cute animal videos and counting my blessings. I found this little picture online that summed up when I first started to stumble how very much I felt exactly the same:
Inline image 1
I see in myself that goofy friend, colleague and family member putting others first and doing my best to be my best, but struggling so low that I just want to shed the emotional pain which has in fact turned into a very physical thing as well. Honestly it seems ridiculous to say, but there’s a comic that also has kept me from pulling that trigger (so to speak, no I do not own a firearm). Here it is:
dcw9part1.png
My heart is broken, I can’t pinpoint one or two or three reasons why, I can just assure you it’s broken and it’s hurting me very badly. I’m not looking for an outcry of support, though I know at least my long term readers and blog family will be there with something nice to say, I just feel it’s important to me to get it out on paper. Or, screen paper. Whatever you’d like to call it.
I’ll survive…I guess. But I don’t much feel like I want to. I need saving for once, instead of doing all the saving, which I’m really very good at.

Journey to the Center of the Earth

As a student researcher on mental illness stigma I was impressed to see an article about high functioning depression recently. Unfortunately in my opinion it fell a little flat of the full picture and per usual, unless I’m reading an empirical case study, I’m selfishly irritated with the pop-psych paragraph or two about the strong Suzie Superheroes that go to school and work full time and are still sad inside (but her peers just can’t tell!)

I’d prefer reading an article collaboration by a collection of highly functioning depressed adults that show the individual unique experiences as well as the common struggles. Where is the paragraph of Suzie Superheroes that talks about how the only time she feels relief from the physiological discomfort that rises from her anxiety and depression is when she’s laying in bed and can’t sleep and thinks about how tension relieving it must feel like to pop your teeth out one at a time? Are all Suzie Superheroes having that thought? Likely not, but it’s an accurate example portrayal of how everyone’s depression oppresses them differently, and how brutally gritty it can be.

Today I was ready to quit my job, hitchhike to New Zealand and sleep on a beach for the rest of my life. Like legit, sleeping beauty 100 years of ZzZ’s kind of sleep. That or hop into traffic. Of course I know better, so I went through the motions and have socially self isolated myself to deal with my emotional tetanus privately. THAT way, I don’t have to feel the associated guilt about being a pathetic mope whose no fun to be around. I merely just pine after and resent the lack of an out pour of love and hugs and verbal reassurance that I am special and loved. I know the lows get better eventually, they generally do, but the perpetual sadness even in a baseline state of being is no way to live.

Kleenex must make bank off of folks like me. Shit.

After 2 failed attempts at finding a new psychiatrist (one is booked for the next two months and the other is listed as taking my insurance then e-mailed to say, “just kidding! I don’t take any insurance; though for a small fee of $450 upfront in full I can give you 90 minutes of my time for an intake”.

My mixed bipolar episode of 2-3 weeks and counting (once I caught on that’s what was happening to me I had to go back in time to measure when symptoms started) has destroyed my bank account, led me to making a huge fool of myself, overwhelming numbers of grandiose projects started, absurd thoughts, lost sleep, crying before and after work (and at home, and driving to the grocery store…) and most recently the urge to drop dead (as well as an increase of run on sentences). It’s destroying me!

Today I felt as though I had reached rock bottom, then reminded myself that it’s a simple step to keep digging even if I don’t mean to and fall even further down the jagged path until I reach the center of the earth and burn to a crisp. Worry not though readers, I’m WAY too terrified of the idea of hell to off myself.

Oh yeah, the psychiatrist thing. I threw a metaphysical dart at the pdf file that Blue Cross sent; a list of doctors who take my insurance plan. Looks like I’m seeing some quack Monday morning. I did some snooping for reviews after I made the appointment which either said he was horrible and should take up a job cleaning up vomit or that he’s fabulous.

Regardless, I’m hoping for a medication adjustment and a STRONG anti depressant. CBT, mindfulness, gratitude journals, listing all the things I’m great at and why life is worth living can take you only so far. At the moment it’s all a bunch of ineffective or joke worthy garbage in my state of mind and Obi Wan-Kenobi (obviously a metaphor for expensive Western medicine) is my only hope.