Surviving the Storm

Last night was... difficult. I honestly don't know if it was part of my depression or something else, but I think I need to document it. Unlike the overwhelming numbness, apathy, and sense of isolation I normally associate with bad depressive episodes, this was a perfect storm of all my most negative emotions and self talk. I could feel, but I felt as though everything was horrible. I felt that asking for help was manipulative of and unfair to those around me, and when help was offered it seemed to me that it could not touch what I was feeling or solve the problems I perceived.

For at least the better part of an hour, Jerk Brain took full control and refused to budge.

It actually started a few hours before Jerk Brain's hostile takeover. I had been at a game with friends, including my wonderful partner. It was our second get-together of the day, and concluded around eight or nine in the evening. Some time on the drive home, I began to feel grumpy when my partner talked about things in which I was not directly involved, but I put it down to my social energy being drained by the day's events. Therefor, when we arrived home I pleaded tiredness and immediately retreated to the bedroom while my boyfriend engaged our roommate in small talk.

Perhaps an hour later, I realized that my bad mood was not dissipating. Since my partner has an excellent track record for making me smile no matter how irritable I am, I messaged him, asking for cuddles whenever he finished his conversation. A relatively short time later, he obliged, and at first it seemed that - as is often the case -  his presence would soothe my emotions without much effort.

Unfortunately, that proved not to be the case.

The chime of a notification on his phone interrupted us, and I told him (honestly) that I didn't mind his pausing to deal with it. Shortly after his attention was diverted, however, my negative emotions came roaring back. Hovering barely above the threshold of conscious thought, Jerk Brain whispered that I wasn't important enough to keep my boyfriend's interest and attention, that asking for the attention I wanted and needed was selfish and manipulative, that he deserved better than my neediness. Before long, I rolled over and curled myself into a miserable knot, convinced that I didn't deserve any help to feel better, simply because I needed help to feel better.

Luckily for me, the man I am dating is both perceptive and determined.

I don't remember all the details of what we said to each other, nor do I particularly want to relive them. I do know that I spent most of the next hour (if not more) crying and alternately clinging to my partner and trying to reject his help. I was irrationally convinced that if I just explained properly how this meltdown was my fault, he would abandon me and find someone "less broken." I wanted him to do it, because I was convinced he deserved better, and I loved him enough to want that for him, even though it tore me apart to even think of him leaving.

I also know that he met all of my hysterical, irrational arguments with kindness and respect, and a gentle but implacable determination to see me though the storm. I remember at one point I told him I couldn't kiss his mouth right then, and he stopped initiating those kisses, but never stopped reassuring me that he loved me. I remember being frustrated at his obstinate refusal to see that I did not deserve his love and his support. He told me, repeatedly and in as many different ways as he could think of, that he wasn't going anywhere. That he didn't expect me to be perfect and that he was going to stick it out with me.

And then, even faster than it began, the storm passed.

It seemed as if, between one breath and the next, Jerk Brain lost its grip on me. Suddenly the oppressive certainty of my unworthiness lifted, and I could think clearly again. I saw my irrational thoughts for what they were, and felt overwhelming love and gratitude to my boyfriend for standing by me and refusing to let me push him away. Now, twenty four hours later, I still don't know why it happened or how to prevent it.

But at least I know that I can survive the storm.

Two Weeks Is Too Long

It's been a while since I have updated. Far longer than I ever meant to wait between updates. I fell prey to a persistent fault of mine - once I fall behind on something, I am strangely reluctant to take it up again. And this applies to all kinds of projects. It's as if I think that by ignoring it I fall less behind. Or maybe I simply feel, somewhere in the back of my mind, that if I never get back to it, I can claim I abandoned it on purpose. Whatever the reason, my two week silence has nevertheless been eventful. I attended a new weekend-long LARP, and the very next day accepted a new job.

Most importantly, I got a curiously objective view of what my depression does to otherwise good days.

To provide context for those who may not know, I had been unhappy at my job starting about four months after I started there. The situation failed to improve, and even deteriorated somewhat, and I have been actively seeking new employment since the new year. Shortly after my last post, I submitted an application which ultimately led to my accepting a job offer last Monday. I gave my notice the next day, and at the end of the workday Thursday was told to pack up my gear and leave.

I should have been happy to be leaving a work environment that nearly drove me out of my chose field. I should have at least been relieved to no longer have that stress hanging over me. And when I was told I need not stay through the end of my notice period, I should have been joyful at having an unexpected vacation.

Instead I felt nothing.

I put on a good show to most everyone else. The depression hadn't sapped too much of my energy for me to go through the motions of excitement, and I have years of practice from denying even to myself that depression was an active influence on my life. But I couldn't hide from myself the odd sensation of feeling nothing when I achieved a long-sought goal. I couldn't hide from my partner that the elation he felt on my behalf was not matched by equal enthusiasm on my part. What should have felt like a heavy burden lifting off my shoulders instead felt no better or worse than any other day.

Depression makes my good days ordinary, my ordinary days exhausting, and my hard days nearly impossible.

And yet, there are moments, even days or weeks, that my depression does not seem to touch. And I wonder, is it really that the depression has left those moments unscathed, or is it that those moments are so bright, so good, that they penetrate the numbness? If my depression casts a pall on everything I feel, what must it be like to experience those moments without it?

I want, more than anything, to find that out.

The Best Laid Plans

I have had a series of good mental health days - the longest stretch of them since I started chronicling my experiences on this blog, in fact.

I have spent much of the last week finishing more of the things that I have needed or wanted to do for weeks or months. I filled out job applications, worked on props for my LARP next weekend, paid bills, and finished books. I cooked, and cleaned, and played games with my friends. Often, the sense of accomplishment I would normally gain from completing these projects was overshadowed by a vague dread that the next day would be a bad one. In the back of my mind hovered the thought that I needed to do everything immediately, lest my depression steal away my motivation. Thankfully, I recognized this as the recipe for burn out that it was, and paced myself. And then, on Friday, something that still feels slightly miraculous happened:

I abandoned most of my planned projects to spontaneously consume entertainment, and I didn't feel guilty about it.

The novelty of that decision, and my (lack of) reaction to it, still has not worn off. I cannot remember the last time I changed plans spontaneously without feeling either guilty or frustrated that I had not completed the originally scheduled tasks. As I write this now, it occurs to me that planning out my day in detail has been a coping mechanism to manage my depression; guilt over failing to hit my self-imposed deadlines has kept me functional. Even if I don't (for example) pay my bills a week early, missing that deadline triggers Jerk Brain to berate me for being lazy, and the guilt from that tirade gives me the extra bit of motivation I need to get them paid before they are overdue.

I would feel clever for harnessing Jerk Brain in that way, if I had been at all conscious that I was doing it.

Memories

The last few days have been good days.

Today, despite the longer than average work hours, was a very good day. I accomplished several things on my "To Do" list, both short and long term goals, and I remembered to pace myself so that I don't burn out before I can finish the rest.

The odd thing is that on my good days, it's hard to remember how awful the really bad days are.

Even when they are recent. Even when I have a written record, like my last post, of exactly how deeply affected I was. Even when those around me at the time express concern and follow up for days to make sure I am back on my feet.

When I re-read my own words, there's an insistent impression (not even a full blown thought) that the depressive episode wasn't that bad. Even when I am reminded that at one point I literally could not speak to my boyfriend, part of my brain doesn't believe it. It really is like remembering a bad dream. I understand, intellectually, what I felt and why I reacted the way that I did, but there is no emotional impact to the memory.

If memories are color photographs, the images of that time are all out of focus and in shades of grey.

It makes me wonder how often I have minimized my suffering, to myself and to others. It certainly explains why it has taken me so long to recognize what a pervasive impact depression has on my life. I can only guess that it is a product of internalized cultural prejudices against mental illness, combined with my tendency to hold myself to a far higher standard than that to which I hold my loved ones.

Maybe now, with this blog as documentation of my struggles, I will start learning how to be kinder to myself.