Scott Lynch posted a wonderful essay on depression. Go read it.

Really, did you read it? No? Go! It’ll even open in a new tab, so you don’t have to be bothered with that meddlesome “Back” button.

First, I’m always glad when someone else writes about depression. The more people who are open about their mental health problems, the less we have to feel like freaks and failures.

Second, you’ve possibly noted that I’ve been rather quiet recently. A lot has happened in the past year or so, and it’s been gnawing at my mind and taking my energy and using it for things like, Bejeweled and Solitaire rather than anything useful.

Which leads me to the question I’ve been dealing with, which is, is this grief or depression?

The answer is, I honestly don’t know, but I think I’m going to give it some time before I decide one way or another. But in the meantime, I probably will continue to be scarce around here. I’ll try to keep up with the Wednesday Word Association and the Thursday Photo Scavenger Hunt, because I like people to stop by and say hi.

But as for anything else? I’m thinking maybe I’ll take a bit of a break for the summer. So if I’m not around much–sorry. But please stick around for Wednesday Word Association!

Great. Just great.

Painkillers make anti-depressants less effective.

Because skipping the ibuprofen during my period is totally going to make me happier…

Not sure if you read The Bloggess–she’s erratic, but generally hilarious–but she made a lovely post this morning I wanted to point out.

It’s called Coming Out and it’s about mental health and suicide and talking about your problems.

In addition to being an excellent post that should reach a lot of people, it also reminded me I haven’t made any updates about my depression in quite awhile.

Part of the reason is because I’ve been making slow, steady progress towards normalcy. I’m continuing to taper the amount of anti-depressant I’m on, and hope to eventually drop down to a low maintenance dose. And I have the anxiety drug to rely upon to keep me from going off the deep end.

But for the most part I’ve been doing OK. It’s work, but that’s fine with me, because it’s a goal I’m happy to work towards. Do I backslip? Of course I do. But I don’t let me get it down, and I try to be proactive in deal with problems. I also try to be aware of my mood and how I’m reacting. Nothing excuses snapping at Michael, but recognizing what I’ve just done and apologizing is better than nothing.

Are things perfect? No. I still can’t bring myself to write, and I still find myself falling into some of my OCD traps, but that’s OK. It is what it is.

I’ll probably continue to be spare in writing about my depression, mostly because it sometimes feels like I’m just repeating, “woe is me, wah wah wah” but that doesn’t mean it isn’t important to every once in awhile remind the world that mental health problems are common, and nothing which we should be made to be ashamed of. They are just a part of everyday life, and nothing that cannot be overcome.

Illegitimi non carborundum

Sorry. Left work early. Came home and napped. Ate dinner. Read. Back to bed.

I realized that I haven’t given you all an update on my depression recently–or much of anything else, really.

I’m no longer maxed out on Zoloft, and I’m hoping that when I go back to the doctor we’ll step it back even more. I know I need the meds, but I’d like to be on a much lower maintenance dose. Much lower.

I’m still sorting out my feelings about Grandmom moving to live with my aunt, but I think in most ways the situation is better for her there. But I miss her. And miss hearing her lecture the cats.

We’ve partially, but not completely, reclaimed her room. There are still a couple boxes of her things in her closet, and a box of Christmas stuff downstairs, but for the major transformation from Grandmom’s room to spare bedroom/sewing room has taken place. There’s still quite a bit I want to do, but it no longer feels like I’m invading her space when I go in there now, which it did for a long time.

I’m also sleeping better, which helps. I’m a morning person, and love the light earlier in the morning. I know that makes me a mutant, but I’d much rather get up early, get to work early, and then be done with work early and have more time in the evening for myself than stay up late and feel rushed and behind all day.

On the exercise front–I could be doing a whole lot better. I’m getting my 30 minutes at work, and I’m walking from work, but I’m getting very little weight training, which is not so good. But I’m trying. I really am. Especially since I haven’t gotten on a scale since before I broke my ankle, since I know I will NOT be pleased with the results.

I’m not back to writing yet–not even close–but I feel like the bits of me involved in such endeavors are slowly coming back to life. I’m taking lots of pictures, which I am hoping is another way to come sideways at the writing issue, but being “creative” in a different manner. Plus, I discovered I really love taking pictures.

The OCD portion is so-so, but it’s manifesting right now in a need to organize and reorganize, which is actually reasonable since we’re in the midst of reclaiming Grandmom’s bedroom and rearranging parts of the house. So I’m putting that to good use, and trying to channel the less helpful impulses into useful activities.

Anxiety goes up and down; weekends we care for Grandmom are a lot more stressful, but that’s because she needs a LOT more care than she did when she was here, and it makes me feel inadequate. Plus, it’s hard to see the woman who has been such a strong and guiding force in my life needing so much help. Don’t get me wrong, I am privileged to be able to give her that help, but it just doesn’t seem right, somehow.

And that’s where we are. Slowly–slowly–getting better, but it’s been a steady climb with no back tracking, so really, I call that a win.

As much as I wished that the depression was completely gone from my life, it is a slow climb back up that hill to normalcy–or at least for me an even keel. The ankle is in some ways exacerbating it, since for years I’ve used aerobic exercise to ameliorate some of the symptoms of my depression, however, I’m not yet back to the point where I was a year ago. And, to be starkly honest, these things take time.

But sometimes, I don’t do myself any favors.

One of the things I requested was an anti-anxiety medicine for when I have an anxiety attack. It’s a medicine I take only as needed, and when I have taken it, it has worked well. (Huzzah for that!) Yesterday I had an anxiety attack. But instead of taking the medicine I have, I kept thinking, “it’s not that bad right now now, maybe it will lift on it’s own. Maybe I’ll just wait it out.” And thus last night I went into a nasty tailspin.

For me, the adrenaline causes me not just to want to get up and do something, but also mentally determine WHY I am anxious.

This may sound innocent enough, except that for my brain, the answer is always the same: a detailed listing of my faults and mistakes and errors culminating in the “realization” that I’m a horrible person and if everyone doesn’t hate me, they should.

Yeah. That’s just as fun as it sounds.

So today I’m dragging myself out of that pit and resolving to TAKE THE DAMNED MEDS next time an anxiety attack hits.

It Gets Better

Because whether you’re gay or straight, it does get better.

This weekend we spent visiting my grandmother. We also had a family meeting regarding her care, and since it didn’t come up during, after the meeting I sat down and talked with my grandmother.

I told her that it was just not possible for her to come back to Morgantown to live, because I simply cannot provide her with the level of care she deserves.

For the past several months we’ve all been in a sort of limbo: she has been with my aunt while she recovers but it wasn’t clear if she would–or even could–come back to live with us in Morgantown. Physically, she has been incapable of returning here, not just because of the long car drive, but because she is currently using a wheelchair part of the time, which will never fit through the doorways in my house. And as much as she loves my house and how cozy it is, the bathroom is not handicapped accessible and has always been a problem for her.

The talk was very hard for me–I was afraid she would think that I didn’t want her to live with me anymore, but she did understand that she needs a greater level of care than she did before I broke my ankle and she broke her leg, and unfortunately, Michael and I are incapable of giving her the support and care she is receiving at my aunt’s house.

I didn’t want to have that discussion, but it was necessary and important for both her well-being and mine, and it was unfair to everyone to leave the situation unsettled and unclear.

Although I feel a sense of grief that she will not longer be living with us, and I will no longer get to see her every day, and to laugh at her when she lectured Kit, I will be seeing her on a regular basis (once or twice a month) and who knows, we might even take Kit with us during our next visit.

Unfortunate events, though potentially a source of anger and despair, have equal potential to be a source of spiritual growth.
– Dalai Lama

Jeri posted a question about Geek Women & Clothing, and my first thought was, “are you kidding me?”

Jeri’s questions were raised by this essay on Clothes & Geek Feminism, which addresses the question in a slightly different manner, but still, it bothers me.

I am who I am. I dress in a manner that makes me comfortable, and I feel makes me look approachable–after all, my job is to help people. I rarely wear make-up, because that’s who I am and it’s the way I’ve always been.

This question puts my hackles up, because I’ve spent a great deal of time getting comfortable with myself in my own skin, and I don’t see why I should have to dress in an manner as dictated by anyone just to properly classify myself as a true geek.

In my opinion, what people see when they look at me is shown as much by my projected attitude as by what I wear. My goal is to look competent, approachable, and helpful, and in my opinion, I show that through my attitude. I do not dress to conform to anyone’s ideas and attitudes of who I am, I dress to be comfortable and to do my job.

For me, the point of being a geek is taking delight in who I am and the things that make me happy. If a geeky t-shirt makes me happy, then that’s great. If a silk suit makes someone else happy, good for them.

If people think I lack “geek cred” because I dress–or fail to dress–in a specific manner, that is their problem, not mine.

That’s right, this was the big one. I’m now 40!

Does it feel any different? Oddly enough, yes. However, that is not due to my age as much as to the life changing experience of breaking my ankle and being off my feet for six very long weeks.

Several years ago I decided that my goal for my 40th birthday was to feel comfortable in my own skin–to like myself for who I am. I’d started on this goal before that (years of therapy will do that to you) but I still had to work myself up to it.

The first big hurdle was accepting my hair. Do I still sometimes wish I had more manageable hair? Of course. But it is what it is, it’s not going to change, so I learned to deal with it, and be happy with what I have.

Once I got past that, everything else seemed pretty easy in comparison.

I already had a regular exercise routine, and I continued with that routine–right up to breaking my ankle–but by taking care of myself physically, I take care of not just my physical health, but my mental health as well.

I also came to the conclusion that enjoying life was far more important that worrying about stupid stuff, such as my weight. If I want to eat a ridiculously high fat calorie laden dessert because it looks really really really delicious, then it doesn’t make sense to deny myself the occasional treat.

Of course that circles around to accepting myself for who I am. I am never going to have the skinny body I had at 18, but that’s a good thing. Because I’m not a teenager anymore and I feel far more comfortable in my curves than I did when I felt as if I was all bony elbows and knees.

Interestingly, my injury made me realize that I am in really good shape. I’ve always felt that because I don’t run or partake in more assertive forms of exercise that I’ve been cheating myself somehow. After discovering how quickly I am bouncing back from my injury I realized that what I have been doing is just fine for my–I don’t have to be able to run marathons I simply need to keep myself in shape and healthy. I’ve done that, so no more guilt about running or anything like that.

The hardest part has been accepting my screw-ups–and believing that not everything is my fault. Everyone messes up. When I do, it’s my job to own up to it and move on. It does me no good to beat myself up over what is past. I can hope that I won’t make the same mistakes, but I also know that my mouth often works faster than my brain, and so stupidity WILL occur. It just isn’t the end of the world.

The last thing I learned is that it’s okay to do things for myself. It is important to me to care for others, but I cannot do that if I’m a wreck myself.

Mind you, this doesn’t mean I think I’m perfect and done growing. Because I’m not (on both counts). But I am who I am. I accept that. I other people don’t like me–that’s their problem, not mine.

So happy birthday to me! I can’t believe I’ve made it 40 years!

OK. Enough of this depressing bullshit. Bad jokes. Tell ‘em. As many as you want.

I’ll start with my favorite.

One atom second to a second atom, “I think I’ve lost an electron.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”

Next!

Today I am thankful for:
Michael
Hot tea
My wonderful and generous friends

I am thankful for:
modern medicine
hot showers
my baby brother

My life goes on in endless song
Above earth’s lamentations,
I hear the real, though far-off hymn
That hails a new creation.

Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear it’s music ringing,
It sounds an echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing?

While though the tempest loudly roars,
I hear the truth, it liveth.
And though the darkness ’round me close,
Songs in the night it giveth.

No storm can shake my inmost calm,
While to that rock I’m clinging.
Since love is lord of heaven and earth
How can I keep from singing?

When tyrants tremble in their fear
And hear their death knell ringing,
When friends rejoice both far and near
How can I keep from singing?

In prison cell and dungeon vile
Our thoughts to them are winging,
When friends by shame are undefiled
How can I keep from singing?

Wishing Well

Bob Mould, from Workbook

Wishing well runs wet and dry
I wish for things I never had
Surrounds and wells up in my eyes
The screaming voice, it lies
Wishing well gets someone’s attention
Every wish you ever had
In a day of nights, in the darkest of light
Sits and cries, watch the lies

Could you give me a wish if I tell you what I want?
Will the price be no object?
I wish for dreams of light
I live for wishing well surprise

Deepest light, the secret lies
Wishing well gives you all that you desire
Homes and trains, and the greenest of plains
That you ever happened upon
The silent wish, it calls you out
Calls you out by name
Lays upon the plain, on the mountain high
City lights, wish delights

What if the waters and wishes appear?
Will the price be no object?
I wish for dreams of light
I live for wishing well surprise

Twist and shape on the winding twine
Around the spindle winds
Wish again, four times again
Four wishes deep into the well

There’s a price to pay for a wish to come true
Trade a small piece of your life
Roots in the soil, uprooting the soil
Mountain high, the mountain high
The wish is only to speak a kind
Kind of word, so benign absurd
The well, three wishes run dry
Wishing well is dry
When no grass grows, the weeds run in line
Wish three wishes, three wishes run dry

Love this Life

Seal my fate
I get your tongue in the mail
No one is wise
Until they see how it lies
Love this life
Don’t wait till the next one comes
Pedal my faith
The wheels are still turning round, turn round

And maybe the day will come
When you’ll never have to feel no pain
After all my complaining
Gonna love this life
Gonna love this life

And so they threw you in jail
Whatever you’ve done
It was a million to tone
And don’t you just love this life
When it’s holding you down
Pedal my faith
The wheels are still turning round, turn round

So maybe the day will come
When you’ll never have to feel no pain
After all my complaining
Gonna love this life
Gonna love this life

There’s something that you can do
Even if you think that I hate you
Stop your complaining leave me defenseless
When you love this life
Gotta love this life
Love this life though you’ll never know why
Gonna love this life
Gonna love

I’m not really back yet.

I mean, I’m posting some, but I don’t think I’m ready to go back to daily posts. I’m still tired, and I still don’t feel like I have my head screwed on straight.

I’ve been on and off anti-depressants since I was 19. I think I’ve tried most of the SSRIs that are out there by now, and was on a tri-cyclic before that.

As I mentioned previously, I maxed out three different meds in a year’s time. Part of me is starting to wonder why I even bother–why deal with the weight gain and the TMJ and everything else if all I’m going to get is the ability to live from day today?

Yes, yes. I know. I’m not planning on stopping my meds (if nothing else, the withdrawal symptoms are an argument in and of themselves) but I am starting to wonder how effective they are.

The most frustrating part is that despite doing everything right, I still feel as if my mood is at least partially out of my control. I exercise regularly. I’m active. I have a relatively healthy diet. I make a point to do activities I find relaxing. Yet it still feels like it’s getting away from me.

I suppose part of the problem is that there are issues that are out of my control; I can (and do) talk about those issues, but in those cases I am dependent upon others taking action (or not), which sometimes sabotages my efforts. (Before you ask, no, there isn’t anything I can do about these situations. All I can do is try and cope the best I can.)

In junior high I was transferred to a Catholic school where we had prayer every morning. In retrospect, the choice for the daily prayer was a little odd, but perhaps we were given that daily recitation in hopes that later in life we could return to it as needed.

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
(Reinhold Niebuhr)

Serenity, courage, and wisdom. I could do worse than to seek those three on a daily basis.

I’m tired. Exhausted even. So I’m going to take a break. A day? A week? No idea. But I need a vacation from a lot of things.

I’ll definitely still be twittering, and I’ll most likely post things here as they amuse me, but there will not be any regular content for awhile.

So.

For the third time in a year (ie 12 month period, not since Jan 1 of this year) I’ve maxed out the anti-depressant I’m on.

Doc gave me a choice of holding where I am, switching meds, or adding a second med to the mix.

I talked about the fact that I feel as if most of this is external (as opposed to just my brain giving me a hard time) and said I thought I’d like to hold where I am for a bit, to see if the veritable shit storms taper off.

So that’s where I am. Still in a holding pattern. You probably noticed that from the fact I’ve hardly had the gumption to write much for about the past year, but on the bright side, I am holding on, and maintaining altitude is better than crash and burn.

So now you know what’s up, and I appreciate your continued patience with me.

Today has been very Monday like.

All I have to say about it is that tomorrow had damn well better be fabulous.

Today? Today is a day of accomplishing things and of money soon coming in.

First, we got back the results of our health screening from last week. PEIA does a thing where they cut you a check for being healthy. Michael and I both scored 100 out of 100, so we’ll both be getting $50 checks! Woot!

As far as my results, they were overall worse than last year, but the higher blood pressure is directly related to increased stress at work and at home, and I’d bet the slightly increased cholesterol is related to the ever increasing does of antidepressants, as did the slight uptick in my BMI. (OK, the fact I had two brownies and ice cream the night before probably didn’t help.) But despite the upticks, I am still in excellent health–and hope that next year’s numbers go back to the range of last year’s.

The second thing was I filed our federal taxes. Got our W2s online, but I needed Michael to get me his student loan interest and the mortgage interest statements before I could file.

Amusing tidbit here. You need to enter the amount of interest you earn on any interest bearing accounts. However, I only had $0.06 interest on our local savings account, which rounded to zero, which the program didn’t like.

Since I again bought the HR Block software, I again had 5 free e-files, so taxes are gone, and hopefully our return will be winging it’s way back soon. (Why did I spend money on tax software? Because I also have to do Grandmom’s taxes, and I’d really rather not take any chances there.)

Now before someone pitches a snit about my liberal tendencies and taxes and such, Michael and I both overpay throughout the year–we both file as single. I’d much rather overpay through the year and get a big return than have to take a hit in April, so it works out well for us. I’m also sure there are lots and lots of things we could do to increase our return. But I don’t particularly care, so why bother with the headache?

So hooray for getting things done, and an even bigger cheer for the money that’ll be filtering in over the next couple months. Wheee!

So yay for Wednesday–better than Monday and Tuesday!