Coming off anti-depressants.

For the last three months I have been taking anti-depressants. This was a first for me, but they were needed, and perhaps may still be(we will see), but the usual trend for me is that as soon as NZ starts getting some good long days of light I come back to my usual self.

So I had a wee chat to my doctor and we talked through the process of weaning off.

One month on a half dose, then down to nothing. If the half dose isn’t working out, I promised to go back onto full dose and we will review the situation in another month.

With my depression, it is a slow slide into it. Usually it takes a myriad of different symptoms over a decent period of time before I will accept that there is a genuine problem rather than just life/PMS/general low mood/stress/work/death causing me problems.

Because of this, and the fact I usually resolve the depression with non-pharmaceutical options, I never really had a clear view of how violently different I am when I’m depressed.

This week was my first week with my dosage halved.

With that came a very obvious change. A distinct lack of interest in anything, a drop in concentration, I lied about traffic and lay in bed instead of going to hockey.  I sulked. I had to bully myself into going to work. Once at work I was panicky, and I lost my temper easily. I even used sarcasm (for evil, not good) and this voice came back.

If you had asked me, I would have said that I have never experienced voices.
But there is one.

She is me, and I am her, but my goodness she is a BITCH.

It isn’t really a ‘voice’ as such. It is the usual inner monologue, just amplified, and apparently pretty pissed off.  A bit like having an earphone in your ears, and having a constant stream of negative updates. Imagine nav-man without the helpful directions.

Instead of “Turn right in 200 metres” It was “you are late, it doesn’t matter how fast you drive your shitty car, they know you are lazy, they know you hate coming here, they are probably talking about you right now”.
I actually sat in my car outside the hospital and said audibly “stop stop STOP” to try to stop the flow. My own physical voice cut off the inner for long enough for me to get a more positive stream going.

But it was hard work. I came home on Thursday and went to bed at 5pm, I was quite literally exhausted.

So to anyone out there, with that voice taking over.  Take a break.

When confronted with the stark contrast of “normal me” and this, it is no wonder people with depression or mental illness sometimes reach the point of self-harm or suicide.

That inner voice is a big jerk.  It tells lies. Worse than that, it twists the truth to expose the brutal cruelty in the world that we usually ignore.

Take a break; you don’t have to do this alone. Get some TLC, listen to music, go for a walk, eat good food, have a cuddle, masturbate, meet with friends, keep up your sunlight hours.
It won’t stop it right away, but keep fighting.

Seek help, talk to professionals

If the professionals don’t make you feel safer or better, find a professional who is good at what they do.

But keep fighting.

Life without depression is amazing and wonderful. It is like the difference between a grainy black and white film, and the latest full colour 3D masterpiece.

It is worth fighting for.

All my love,

Scube.

4) Raising my hand for help.

Raising my hand for help. Written 1/8/11

I have four pages of scattered disjointed writing in my “latest blog” file in word.
It is all about my struggle with depression over the last few months.
I realised today when I sat down to start writing again properly that none of that was ever finalised and put into this blog.
So for all the people out there with depression, and for those who love people with depression; these posts are for you.
As the week progresses, more posts will go up, and they will be numbered, from earliest (furthest in the past) to most recent to make it easier to keep track.
I hope that they help you see light and hope, and possibility. Because even if it can’t be seen now, it is there, and you WILL find it. You just have to stick it out today. Tomorrow will come.

My depression has been hideous this year, so I went to the doctor today.
When the doctor asked me if I had been having suicidal thoughts I just looked at her and said “I can’t be bothered.”
That shocked me.
As soon as the words were out of my mouth I started back and stared at her.
“I think I need help, I can’t keep fighting this alone.” I said, and burst into (what was probably the 10th lot that day) tears.
I had expected her to question why I hadn’t been exercising, getting sun, getting sleep, eating well, keeping up with socialisation etc etc etc.
She didn’t.
When I raised it (hyperventilating as I listed the ways I had let myself down) she stopped me.
“If you haven’t been doing it, there is a reason; and you won’t start now you are this far along.”
Up until that point I felt like I was drowning. The cold water was making me shake and panic. I couldn’t breathe.
I was terrified.
I was so frightened that if I let go of tightly clutching myself and raised my hand above my head that I would sink completely under the water, and no one would ever find me.
The doctor’s sympathetic eyes and reassurance that I could do this made me realise that I could get help. A weight lifted off my shoulders. I wasn’t a failure. One winter of struggling in nearly TEN YEARS of maintaining a positive mental health with S.A.D. was a fucking victory.
And there are drugs, and professionals, and loving people just waiting for me to signal that they can step in and help.
It’s ok to raise my hand.

3) Frozen.

Frozen, written last week of July 2011

I have four pages of scattered disjointed writing in my “latest blog” file in word.
It is all about my struggle with depression over the last few months.
I realised today when I sat down to start writing again properly that none of that was ever finalised and put into this blog.
So for all the people out there with depression, and for those who love people with depression; these posts are for you.
As the week progresses, more posts will go up, and they will be numbered, from earliest (furthest in the past) to most recent to make it easier to keep track.
I hope that they help you see light and hope, and possibility. Because even if it can’t be seen now, it is there, and you WILL find it. You just have to stick it out today. Tomorrow will come.

Right now I feel frozen.
When depression has really set in, it is more like a grey fog than the traditional “black dog” for me.
I can’t find my way, and without a view, the point of moving forward is taken away.
Despite what feels like paralysing indifference to life, the universe and everything I am taking steps.
I’m seeing my doctor next week.
Resigning my job the week after.
Stopping internet contact, twitter, sad shit and trouble that makes me breath super heavy.
Right now that covers anything from making big decisions to watching poignant nappy ads, so this could be a bit challenging.
So I won’t be around on line, writing for the next little while.
I’m barely there in my real world at present.
Breathing is hard and waking is painful.
That blissful feeling of managing to drift off to sleep and the heavy weight in my heart that greets me each morning makes consciousness such a struggle right now, but I can and will fight this fucker.
See ya’ll on the other side.

2) The anatomy of a panic attack

NOTE:

I have four pages of scattered disjointed writing in my “latest blog” file in word.
It is all about my struggle with depression over the last few months.
I realised today when I sat down to start writing again properly that none of that was ever finalised and put into this blog.
So for all the people out there with depression, and for those who love people with depression; these posts are for you.
As the week progresses, more posts will go up, and they will be numbered, from earliest (furthest in the past) to most recent to make it easier to keep track.
I hope that they help you see light and hope, and possibility. Because even if it can’t be seen now, it is there, and you WILL find it. You just have to stick it out today. Tomorrow will come.

I’m in a small room, waiting for the people I’m supposed to be meeting.
I started thinking about the things I need to get done, the stuff I haven’t got done. The things people are expecting from me and how I will disappoint them this week.
What a terrible partner I am to be so focused on my work.
My grandmother hasn’t seen me in ages and she is going downhill fast.
My friends seem distant – I need to see them more, but I’m so TIRED.
I flash rapidly between guilt and resentment. Nothing I am doing makes things better, I will never be good enough, I need MY space MY time.
Was this room so hot before?
Jesus, the room is so fucking small.
I can’t seem to get on top of things. Such a loser. Perhaps I should give up.
Gah, I can’t follow through on things. People will call me a quitter.
Even if they don’t, I will know.
Quitter.
Why am I so sweaty?
I can’t breath.
They should be arriving any minute now. I need to think about the work I’m about to present.
Keep calm, be professional. Shit I’m sweating.
Now I will have marks on my blouse and they will KNOW I’m not calm.
They will realise I can’t cope. They will know I’m not good enough, old enough, experienced enough.
Just not enough.
Why can’t I fucking breath?
My chest hurts.
I need air.
Don’t these windows open?
I can’t. I can’t do this. I can’t.
Weak weak weak weak. I can’t breathe, I can’t talk.

I can’t cope.

Sent out a message on Twitter.
Terrible jokes and messages of support allow me to step out of the vortex and think outside my own head for long enough to loosen the bands tensioning around my chest.
I get the job done and head to my hotel room to collapse in bed.
The next day I get up and it starts again, but today, you were my saviours.
I owe you my professionalism, my image, my mental health and my greatest thanks.

People who step up to an “I’m not ok” message do more than they ever realise.
Follow these people, they are awesome… and I send all my love and blessings to
@noir_angele
@FallenRedNinja
@RachelRayner
@Billie_Mae
@LaurieFleming
@pulpkorn
@bluemilk
@mymilkspilt

With a very special mention to @StarrLitLove who not only responds to cries for help but oozes her fabulous positivity all over the internet at Courage Hope Strength.
I go there most mornings to start my day with a positive note.

1) Support in mental health

1) Support in mental health. Written June 2011

NOTE: I have four pages of scattered disjointed writing in my “latest blog” file in word.
It is all about my struggle with depression over the last few months.
I realised today when I sat down to start writing again properly that none of that was ever finalised and put into this blog.
So for all the people out there with depression, and for those who love people with depression these posts are for you.
As the week progresses, more posts will go up, and they will be numbered, from earliest (furthest in the past) to most recent to make it easier to keep track.
I hope that they help you see light and hope, and possibility. Because even if it can’t be seen now, it is there, and you WILL find it. You just have to stick it out today. Tomorrow will come.

I am what I would describe as a “maintenance phase” with my depression.
Every winter I get lower in mood, and every few years when all the shit collides at the same time, my ability to keep it at a “controllable level” is lost.
This has been one of those years, and this is the first winter with severe depression AND blogging.
To keep things functional and interesting and still blog about things I really care about has been a challenge.
On one hand, I haven’t blogged regularly, so I’ve sort of failed.
On the other hand, I haven’t lowered my standards, gone off the rails, or allowed topics to overwhelm me or my life.

I’m going to call it a win at this point.

Also on the winning side of the coin... My partner who has also experienced depression has the most wonderful gift.
Every time he looks at me he sees ME.
Me with a cold sometimes.
Me with PMS sometimes.
And at the moment, me with depression.
But always the primary focus is me.
That alone will make this winter a million times easier. One of the biggest challenges for me when I am struggling with depression is that the voice in my head isn’t really mine anymore and I sort of fail to see myself.
If I can see even the tiniest glimpse of who I REALLY am, even if it is just in his eyes, I won’t forget her, and I won’t give up.
Because I’m worth fighting for.
As are you.

Winter solstice and my SAD

I get seasonal effective disorder, so at this time of the year just putting my pants on and giving a fuck what I look like enough to walk out the door is a challenge.

But I am fighting.
I am railing against my hibernation instincts, the urge to be cranky, to push everyone away, to make rash decisions. To run like a dog and hide under the porch until everything leaves me alone. I am exersizing, even though the joy is gone, just for the endorphins.
I am working hard to ensure I can keep getting up, because it only takes one day to start the spiral.

It is winter solstice next week which is always my symbol that the sun is coming.
And this will get easier.
Makeup will be fun.
Bed will be an afterthought at the end of a day, not the wishful dream of an entire week.
Work will feel challenging not confronting.
I won’t want to lash out at anyone who doesn’t love me unconditionally.
I will invite you over, because my floor will be clean, there will be food in the fridge and I will be ok.

In the meantime, I will come to your place, you cannot come to mine.
I will listen more than I contribute.
I will lurk on the internet with fuck all contribution of value.
I will avoid triggers when I would normally push through.
I will force myself to keep this job, even though it gives me chest pains and I would rather bar-tend.

But my pants are on and I am present.
And that my friends, is a fucking victory.