A Visit to the Doctor

Last week, I did something that I probably should've done a long time ago but didn't feel like I really needed to do until this year: I went to my doctor to talk about depression.

It may have been one of most difficult things I've ever done.

I'm pretty open about my depression here on my blog or on Facebook or in text conversations with friends, but I hadn't considered until this visit how much all that is under my control. I'm able to refine the words, to speak clearly and articulately about my feelings. That is a far cry from the weeping, incoherent mess I was the day I went in.

As soon as the nurse asked me the reason for my visit, I started tearing up. When she told me my blood pressure was a little high, tears starting falling. (We checked it a few minutes later and it had gone back down.) When the doctor came in and asked me gently, "How are you doing?" I started genuinely sobbing and could barely get the words out to explain I was pretty sure I was depressed.

It didn't get better. I knew I needed to be there -- after all, the fact that I was so depressed and anxious about seeing a doctor for depression and anxiety was probably a clue I was doing the right thing -- but as she began asking me how things had been, if there were any emotional triggers I was aware of, how long this had been going on, I could feel myself mentally curling up into a ball, answering the questions as briefly as I could and longing for this awful, uncontrollable vulnerability to just go away so I could go back to feeling like a semi-competent human being.

I knew she'd probably suggest medication, and I knew what I wanted to talk about with her: that I wasn't against depression meds on principle or anything but the thought of having even more meds to keep track of and schedule and worry about side effects for was really overwhelming to me, and I wanted to know if there was any way we could hold off on it until I got fully back on my arthritis medication. Then the moment came, she asked me if I was OK going on medication, and all I could think was I want to be out of here, I want to go home, and saying yes will send me home more quickly, so I said OK and walked out of there with a prescription for Prozac, a referral for a psychiatrist, and a strong sense of self-loathing for being unable to speak up and share my concerns.

(Incidentally, I debated emailing her back and saying, "I couldn't bring myself to talk about it then, but I was wondering..." but ultimately couldn't make myself do that either, at which point I decided maybe that meant I needed the medication pretty badly after all. So we'll be giving that a shot.)

One of the things that makes depression so crappy is how it saps your motivation so the steps you might need to take to feel better seem impossibly difficult. I know that going to see movies by myself is a temporary mood lift that can help refuel me a bit after an especially anxiety-ridden week... but the thought of having to get up and drive to the theater feels somehow worse than the thought of sitting around feeling depressed all day. It's significantly more difficult when your step forward is not "have a beautiful day alone at the movies," but instead "cry in front of people in the hopes they can help you."

That being said... this is a good thing. It is incredibly difficult, and admitting to strangers through tears that I'm depressed makes me feel more genuinely broken than I have in a long time, but I'm doing something about stuff, which has not been my strong suit this year. And so I will take it and claim it as a victory... even if nothing's actually happened yet.

A Quick Reminder of How Depression Works

It's easy for those with depression to look at their lives and be certain that they're only depressed because something in their life is going wrong. That soon that circumstance will be removed and everything will automatically be OK again.

For me, it used to be, "Well, it'll be different when I'm in a relationship."

Then, "Well, it'll be different when I get my arthritis under control."

Then, "Well, it'll be different when I have a teaching job and can use my degree."

And now all those things have happened, and the depression still lurks.

In the back of my mind, I know that circumstances lining up won't automatically "fix" depression. I know that that's not how it works for me. Because depression isn't just being sad that something's wrong, it's a whole different ball game. It can be even easier for people on the outside of depression looking in to think that kind of thing, like I just need to get over bad circumstances or find a way to fix things.

That kind of thinking can be gross when you're dealing with depression and there actually are major things going wrong in your life, but it can also be gross when you're depressed and there is seemingly no reason for it.

That's where I've been the last couple weeks. There's nothing wrong with my life right now. I love where I am and who I'm with and what I get to do. I am extremely fortunate. And yet I've spent chunks of each weekend this month sitting on my bed just crying because everything in my mind was terrible and there was no reason for it.

And then the part of my brain that tries to be rational tried to sternly lecture myself out of my depression: "Why are you depressed? Stop it. Everything's fine."

But as we all know (or should know if we don't), you cannot out-rationalize depression. Fortunately, once you remember depression is not rational, that can take some of the pressure off. You don't have to start blaming yourself for feeling bad for no reason. That's what depression does. That's one thing that separates depression from regular sadness. So you may not be able to stop feeling depressed or stop feeling sad, but maybe it'll be easier to remind yourself, "Depression is being stupid and lying to you right now, you have a lot to be thankful for whether you realize it or not right now."

That was one of the reasons I started my Reasons to Dance Twitter account (which I wrote about on Monday). Because it may not fix anything, but the depression has to fight just a little harder to tell me that my life is pointless when I have all these reasons to celebrate on the screen in front of me, and anything that makes life tougher for my depression is OK with me.

So... there's no real end to this blog. Just a reminder that depression isn't rational, and that you don't have to justify your feelings to yourself if you're feeling depressed.

Walking With God in the Midst of Depression

(Having a tough time writing this, because I am actually writing in the midst of a smallish depression time. So... if you have dissenting thoughts -- or even just think this is scattered and unhelpful -- that's fine, but I may not be up for discussing that with you right now. Just FYI.)

I got this message from a friend on Facebook this week:

Hey, I have a suggestion/question. If you had stuff to say about it, would you consider writing a blog about how you walk with God EVEN in the midst of your worst depression days? Talking about how you have crappy circumstances with no control and still learning what it means to walk in "victory" without the depression necessarily "going away"? Someone was just talking about reconciliation on Sunday and how God doesn't want us to walk in defeat, and I was wondering what your take on that is in the situation of depression.

And I thought, "Sure, I can pull together a couple thoughts on that."

First things first: Depression =/= defeat. Or, well, it doesn't have to be. That was my very first response to the message I got.

Even if I feel defeated for a day or a week or a month or a year, that doesn't mean I actually am defeated. Because, guess what? My life's not over yet. There are plenty of things I have accomplished and can still accomplish in spite of what depression whispers in my ear.

(I want to note before I move on that every person's depression is different. Many people deal with much more long-term chronic depression, rather than the pattern I have, which is waves of depression followed by waves of feeling OK. I have also not ever been suicidal. So I cannot speak for their depression -- I can only speak for mine. They will have different ways of dealing and coping, and my experience doesn't necessarily reflect theirs at all. That being said, here are my thoughts as to how I deal with the degree of depression I have.)

The key, for me, is hope.

The truth is, I am not hopeless. Depression often brings intense feelings of hopelessness, and it's easy for those feelings to seep into the way I view the world, but for me, it's very important for me to be able to separate how I feel from what is true. I may feel like I'm never going to be OK again, but I know in the back of my mind that I will be. I may feel worthless and like I don't matter, but I know that I have value. Cheesy little affirmations totally work for me -- not because they make me feel better, but because they cement in my mind the truth that I can't see when depression clouds it, so that somewhere, somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that what I feel is incorrect.

The reason many people (including me) say they "struggle with" depression? It's because it's actually a struggle. It's a fight. It can be a battle every day to get out of bed and talk with people and do what you need to do. And sometimes you lose a battle and you take a step back and spend the day just crying and watching movies. But you're not defeated until you stop struggling altogether -- forever.

"Walking in defeat" (to me) means that I've accepted I no longer believe I can beat this.

"Walking in defeat" means I'm not even thinking about trying to make it through the day anymore.

And, with depression, "walking in defeat" can get really serious really fast.

There's a tendency in some circles to think that depressed people are just mentally or emotionally lazy, people who don't want to deal with their problems or fix themselves. They look at these people and think, "They've given up completely." But most of the Christians I know with depression work really hard to deal with it. They get up every day and serve in churches and pray with people on Facebook and do whatever they can do to remind themselves that they are not their depression. Sometimes all they can do is get dressed. And while that person on the outside might think, "That is not a victory," but they have no idea how hard it can be sometimes to do just the bare minimum.

For me, "walking in victory" isn't about the depression going away. It's not about walking in my victory because I feel awesome and I've conquered depression -- it's about walking in God's victory. It's about trusting that he can get me through the day, the week, the year, and my life. It's about realizing that if I can't walk any further, he can carry me, and I'm still victorious because I'm trusting him.

That "Footprints" poem where God carries you gets printed everywhere, but sometimes I think we forget that that happens when we can't walk anymore. It's kind of terrifying to get to the point where you actually can't, because we look at ourselves (or sometimes at others) who have collapsed on the ground and view it as a defeat -- but we have to trust that God can get us through that, whether it's by surrounding us with outside support, giving us the opportunity to take care of ourselves, or helping us just power on through.

So, after all that, here are a few practical ways that I try to walk with God in the midst of depression:

1) Be completely honest with God. This is especially important if I don't feel like I can share my feelings with most of the people around me. For me, not sharing it with God is like putting up a little wall to distance us -- even if it's because I'm trying to distance myself from me. But those walls can make it hard to be vulnerable and ask for his help.

2) Constantly remind myself of the truth. Like I said, those cheesy little affirmations work for me -- they may not make me feel better, but they keep me from feeling worse. When I'm depressed, it can feel extra difficult to remind myself of truths about God's love and provision because I think, "He's not providing for me!" but that means it's even more important to remind myself that he is faithful and will carry me through somehow.

3) Psalms! Psalms are awesome for depression because, wow, some of them read a lot like how I feel. When I don't have words I can express, I turn to these a lot.

4) Seek out people who exemplify joy and faith. As much as I love my snarkier and more cynical Christian friends, they are sometimes not good for me to be around when I'm dealing with depression. Instead, I tend to gravitate toward those people whose lives just shout joy and faith, the two things that get hit the most in depression times. This is not so much to ask them for prayer or advice, but just to spend time with them and let their infectious joy and faith either 1) spill over into my life on some level, or 2) simply remind me that God is good.

God is bigger than my depression, he is stronger than my depression, and that means depression never has to mean defeat, because I don't have to fight this alone.

Depression, Guilt, and Giving Advice

This post... well, obviously involves depression. But it also is about the huge Internet response to Robin Williams' death, and that response became pretty triggering for me. If it was for you as well, you might want to avoid this post. Just wanted to toss that out there.

Two? Three? weeks later, I am finally mentally prepared to discuss -- at least a little bit -- the Matt Walsh depression blog, along with the idea in general of giving advice to people with depression.

When it first surfaced, I couldn't read the whole thing. Eventually (on a pretty good day) I managed to make it through, and I knew I had to respond. Except it turned out responding was way worse than reading it. I tried twice to write something about it. Both times, I had to stop halfway through in tears and was far from functional the rest of the day. It was... well, pretty triggering.

I had to unfollow people who reposted it on Facebook because nope nope nope, I couldn't deal with that. But then it launched into other people offering their own takes on what depressed people should and shouldn't do, and so I just stopped looking at Facebook, hoping the trend would die down soon and it would become a safer place for me again.

It did, and it has, and I've breathed and thought and now I just want to make one simple point for people to keep in mind when dealing with depression.

Walsh says in his post that he has dealt with depression. A lot of people have claimed that's a lie. I am not a fan of dismissing people's personal experiences, and I certainly don't know him in real life, so I don't really have any reason to think he is lying. Plenty of people struggle with depression that you wouldn't suspect. What I can emphatically say, though, is that his depression must have been drastically different from mine.

Mine comes with a built-in layer of All The Guilt.

© 2008 Law Society of Upper Canada Archives, Flickr | PD | via Wylio

For me, this is actually usually the first symptom of an upcoming depressive period and the last to leave. I begin to believe that everything I'm doing, I'm doing wrong. I'm dealing with my depression wrong. I'm talking to my friends wrong. I'm writing this blog wrong. And then that guilt converts into crippling anxiety -- if I move or breathe or think or speak I'll do something wrong -- and then I get paralyzed. I spend all day unable to do anything and then feeling guilty about the fact that I can't make myself do anything and that makes me feel even worse and makes me feel even more anxious and then I am even more paralyzed and I can only hope that going to sleep will restart my brain a little bit and leave me feeling better in the morning.

And while obviously not all depression is the same, I've talked to enough people whose depression includes extreme guilt that I'm pretty sure it's not just me, and it's worth taking into consideration the fact that if you're talking to someone who is depressed, there's a decent chance that they're feeling extremely guilty. For everything.

Let me add another thought to that: Depression guilt is not rational.

© 2009 uıɐɾ ʞ ʇɐɯɐs, Flickr | CC-BY-SA | via Wylio

You can't always logic your way out of it and be like, "That's silly, obviously this isn't my fault." Criticism of any kind turns itself into truly nasty negative self-talk. There have absolutely been times when I got a minor revision request on an article I sent into Textbroker and depression guilt completely took over and all I could think was that I was a failure as a writer, a failure as a person, and that I was never going to be able to do anything. Ever again.

This is in no way just "not being able to take criticism" or an immature response from an oversized ego or "taking things too personally". I try very hard to learn from my mistakes and do things better the next time. I truly value criticism. But depression guilt is very skilled at latching onto anything negative anyone has ever said about anything I was connected to and somehow turning that into self-hatred and guilt and fear.

So. With this in mind.

Walsh wrote a follow-up post to his blog in which one of his main points to his critics was along the lines of, "You're twisting my words! People shouldn't be upset about things I never said!" And while I agree criticism should be accurate, he's missing the much bigger picture: He wrote, at least in part, to a depressed demographic, and depression twists your words, too.

I have never been suicidal, and Walsh made a big deal of saying that he was talking about suicide in his post, not depression... but depression guilt made everything Walsh said apply to me too.

Statements like "The final refusal to see the worth in anything, or the beauty, or the reason, or the point, or the hope" became "If I can't find beauty in something now, it's because I'm refusing to."

Statements like "The willingness to saddle your family with the pain and misery and anger that will now plague them for the rest of their lives" became "If you don't hurry up and get rid of your depression fast, you're hurting your family because you may not be dead but if you cared about anyone you'd clearly be doing more to fix yourself."

Statements like "In suicide you obliterate yourself and shackle your loved ones with guilt and grief" became "Every bad decision I make because of depression is going to hurt everyone I love forever."

Are these rational conclusions? Not particularly. But that's what depression does.

For what it's worth, I do agree with Walsh's main point that suicide shouldn't be glorified. It's a tragic tragic thing. But you can't give people hope by giving them guilt. It doesn't work that way. Some people are motivated through harsh criticism, through showing the awfulness of what they do and think. But with depression, all of that can sound awfully similar to the nasty self-loathing thoughts running through your mind 24/7 anyway, and it's not always possible to distinguish between the two.

© 2010 Anders Printz, Flickr | CC-BY | via Wylio

"Does this mean I shouldn't say what I think, that I have to sugarcoat every single thing I say when I say anything because oh no, I might make someone with depression feel bad?"

Well, I am a fan of gracious speech in general -- we need more of it -- but, no, I don't think you can't be direct or say anything negative. I'm not a fan of silencing people. But it does mean that if you are writing specifically to people with depression, you shouldn't be surprised when your words get filtered through the lens of depression.

His follow-up post addressing objections included this line:

We live in a culture where rational discussion has become nearly impossible[.]

And my instant thought was, "Does he not realize he is discussing a mental illness?!"

Sure, there are plenty of people out there who think irrationally without any excuse, and yes, this is a sensitive subject where even people without active, current depression may respond without fully reading... but excuses like this also blame people like me, who are fighting against irrational self-hatred, irrational self-loathing, irrational guilt and fear and anxiety and apathy every single day for weeks on end.

He either 1) didn't know that depression makes things seem worse than they are, or 2) didn't actually think anyone with depression was going to read this blog. He wrote that blog to and about people with real depression, and then he got offended when people with depression (among others) responded to the accusing tone of his blog rather than the actual words.

This frustration that "oh my gosh, people get emotional about depression, what's up with that?" indicates to me once again that whatever experience Walsh has had with depression, it was nothing like mine is today. Maybe his depression really didn't have an ounce of guilt in it. Or maybe he felt like he could just logic-and-joy his way out of the guilt. If that's the case, well, that's nice for him, but I'm pretty sure that's not how it works for most of us.

So what does this mean for me?

All right. All that being said, this is the main thought I want to pass on.

© 2007 Richard Gillin, Flickr | CC-BY-SA | via Wylio

A lot of people offer advice for people with depression, and I truly believe they want to help. I've heard everything from "Pray more" to "Go outside more" to "Spend time with your friends" to "Get therapy." And while these things can be very helpful, none of them are an instant fix to a one-size-fits-all problem. Trust me, most people with depression have heard plenty of these solutions, and they may have even tried them, only to feel utterly defeated when they don't work.

In my own writings about depression, I try to be very careful not to say "This will make things better!" Because sometimes it doesn't. And I don't want someone to read my blogs about dealing with depression and feel worse about it. I always try to frame it in terms of "Sometimes this is helpful for me" and encourage people to share their own stories because mine are in no way definitive.

I think sometimes people get frustrated when they see depression (not frustrated at depressed people, frustrated by the disease itself) because it feels like it should be something that just a little more self-control can fix, like controlling your temper or just doing things you're scared of. That can lead to very dogmatic statements meant to be encouraging, with those people having no idea that they're instilling even more guilt into the people they're trying to help.

If you find something you think might help a friend with depression, here's my brief take on it: you can totally reach out to them and show that you care -- it might be very encouraging -- but make sure they know they're not obligated to try it and it's not obligated to work. If you're not sure, you can even ask them first: "Is it OK if I shared a thought with you, or would that not be helpful?" Above all, let them know they're loved and valued, even if this is something they deal with for a long time.

I don't feel like I'm doing a very good job pulling these thoughts together, but in conclusion, let me say this. I advocate for love and compassion in dealing with people all the time, but just... please be extra compassionate in dealing with a subject like this. This is not a time for tough love.

And I did want to throw out a quick thank you to all my wonderfully kind and compassionate friends -- even those who have never dealt with depression themselves -- who thoughtfully listen and pray and love and care.

The Neverending River of Anger

I've been... very angry lately. Not at anything or anyone in particular, just mad at the world.

I know where some of it has come from. Some of it is from depression, which flips everything into its negative form and then dials that up to eleven.

Some of it is from the fact that there's someone in my life I need to actually forgive, and I didn't want to, because gosh dang it, I wanted that person to suffer for what they did, but since we're not in contact it obviously didn't hurt them and just made me angry and miserable. (I'm still working through that, but it is getting better. I don't hope they suffer physical or emotional pain anymore. I do still kind of hope all their food is slightly burnt forever, though. Or something. But we're getting there.) But that is still lingering.

© 2008 Ben Pollard, Flickr | CC-BY-SA | via Wylio

Some of it is because I keep letting myself get sucked into online conversations that I know are just going to make me sad and angry, and that's a stupid decision for me and I need to STOP IT and just not engage with people who don't have a track record of listening. But I'm just so desperate for actual conversation, I keep taking it wherever I can find it... even if I have a suspicion it'll leave me frustrated and hurt.

Some of it is because I'm going through this weird time in my life where I'm feeling simultaneously socially isolated and socially stifled, which makes no sense (and it certainly not the fault of anyone in my life) and I can't figure out how to respond to it because when I socialize I feel withdrawn and when I don't I feel lonely and so EVERYTHING IS JUST WEIRD ALL THE TIME. As a result, I'm having trouble finding an actual outlet for my feelings these days and so it just turns into anger.

So I'm making some changes to try and fix this... or at least temper it until I figure out actual stuff.

1. I'm making an effort to recognize the positive. It's super duper easy for me to focus on all the things that are wrong in my life, especially during DepressionTimez. (If you write it with a Z, it's not as scary!) A while back I created a Twitter account specifically for listing all the things throughout a day that make me happy. (@reasonstodance1, if anyone wants to follow.) I'm fairly inconsistent with it, but I want to be more consistent, because cataloging good things makes me more likely to see them pop up more often.

2. I'm probably not writing about anything serious for awhile. I know it's been some time since I wrote something serious about faith or depression or my thoughts on... stuff, but I have had several blogs like that on the back burner for quite awhile. Right now, though, I can't write about the ones I actually care about without raising a lot of negative emotion. Not that negative emotion is bad, but when I'm making an effort to keep it in check, it seems kind of silly to deliberately write something that will hype it up. So I'll be veering away from any heavy topics for quite some time.

3. I'm giving myself permission to unfollow/unsubscribe. I want to be friends with everybody on my Facebook list, but there are some people who... well, let's just say I'm not in the right frame of mind to read the things they want to post these days. They are absolutely entitled to their opinions and to stating them as strongly or as snarkily as they want, but it might be smarter for me to not read them until whatever is causing this intense anger calms down a little.

There are also a few bloggers I'm taking a break from. As a rule, I try to not follow people who are angry or cynical all the time because I know that that rubs off on me, even if I technically agree with what they're saying, but I really want to curate a list of bloggers who are kind and compassionate, who will fill my soul with nutritious chicken soup instead of poison (even if it's accidental poison).

© 2010 Rita Hutcheson Cobbs, Flickr | CC-BY | via Wylio

4. I'm going to start writing lyrics again. I highly doubt these will ever be shared with anyone, they're just for me, but one of the most helpful journaling practices for me a few years ago was writing song lyrics after my time with God. This is particularly good for me in dealing with excess or unfocused negative emotion. Using metaphor and imagery, I can express the emotions as strongly as I want, but somehow the restriction of having to make it plausibly lyrical lets me tackle it in a more controlled fashion. It can't just become a mindless rant of rage or fear or despair. I feel the emotional freedom to say, really, whatever I need to say, but puzzling it into a song gives me a better lens to view it with. It's been awhile since I really did this on a regular basis, and I want to see if I can use it again to adjust my perspective.

So. In the meantime... If I bow out of a conversation or write 10 blogs in a row about musicals I like, that's what's going on. (Incidentally, if any of you have any blog topics you'd like me to tackle -- I'm open to anything that's not a heavy-hitter/controversial/something that has probably made someone tell me I'm a selfish heretic -- let me know. I've been having trouble pulling together thoughts lately.)

Also, feel free to share here what you do when you just feel angry at the world all the time. Are there songs or movies that are good for you? People who help lift that burden a bit? Bible verses you rely on? I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Sometimes Hope is the Worst

(It's been a tough couple weeks, depressionwise. I promise that even if this continues for awhile, I'm not going to make every blog I write about depression. That's lame to read. But out of all the blogs I started trying to write for today, this was the one that I actually finished. So here goes.)

My friend Sarah posted a quote on her Facebook the other day that said, "It's impossible to over-hope." While I've frequently considered myself a pretty optimistic person, this week I've been thinking about how much easier life is when your expectations and hopes are low.

The main thing prompting this recently has been a discouraging situation I've found myself in the middle of. I've been on varying dosages of steroids since November to help me deal with my rheumatoid arthritis. While steroids are fantastic for reducing pain and bringing down inflammation, they also come with a bunch of unpleasant side effects, such as depression (because, yeah, I need more of that) and weight gain.

WHOO, that weight gain. After five months on these drugs, I've gained about 45 pounds. And it's really bothering me.

I've never before been anyone who was really bothered by her weight. Even when I was on steroids several years ago and gained a bunch, it didn't keep me up nights or make me feel crappy about myself. The other night I was trying to figure it out, why it was so distressing to me now and why it didn't distress me then.

Then I realized that it was because of where my expectations were.

I've never really liked the way I look. For most of my life I've just thought of myself as being kind of awkward-looking. Even during events where I got to dress up and have hair and makeup done, I still never thought I looked nice. And so I just kind of had that ingrained in my mind: "You're not pretty, and you're never going to be pretty, so just stop stressing about it."

So I stopped. I turned all my energy toward being a kind and smart and interesting person rather than a physically attractive one, since I figured those goals were actually attainable. When I gained weight on the steroids the first time, it didn't alter my perception of myself to be any more negative than it already was. Being further away from an impossible goal didn't seem like a big deal.

Over the past year or two, being in a relationship and being around someone who apparently liked the way I looked completely changed the way I thought about myself. For the first time in my entire life, I sometimes felt kinda pretty. It was a new, weird feeling, but as I adjusted to it, I was pretty happy with it.

And then, suddenly, in the span of a few months I blew up like a balloon.

Three years ago, this wouldn't have mattered. I would still be apathetic about my appearance, and so a weight gain wouldn't have really weighed in one way or the other (especially one caused by drugs that would eventually probably be adjusted when I came back off the drugs). But I wasn't apathetic anymore. I had actual feelings about the way I looked. So when things changed, the positive feelings didn't go back to being apathetic, they turned into negative ones.

Before, I had zero expectations or hope for improvement, and I'd made peace with that, and I was OK.

Then I started hoping, and then my hopes were dashed, and now everything is sad.

This isn't the only situation recently where this has come up. There have been a couple other things going on in my life where I was optimistically hoping for the best, and what happened was... not that. Broken relationships I thought would mend have just gotten worse. Job opportunities that were presenting themselves suddenly fell apart. Friends who are dealing with crap get even more crap thrown at them. Attempts at serious conversations about things that matter to me somehow turn into pointless, petty arguments where everyone gets hurt. And each time, I think to myself, "If I had expected the worst in the first place, I would feel better right now."

I told a friend lately that it feels like my entire life this week has been disappointment repair, which is an exhausting way to live, and I am feeling more sympathy than ever for the people who choose to just turn off all their emotions. It's like deciding to eat food off china plates from now on because you love how beautiful the china is, but then about half the time you use those plates you end up breaking them and then you have to spend all this time gluing them back together when really, wouldn't it be smarter and easier and better to just not eat off those plates at all?

I know that some of this is the depression talking. I know that it takes situations that are not that big a deal and turns them into "EVERYTHING IS THE WORST AND WILL NEVER GET BETTER," and while a part of me believes that things will get better eventually, there's another part of me that thinks maybe I'd be better off just thinking they won't, because then at least I can stop spending all this time picking up broken pieces and just plow on ahead.

I don't have any answers for this yet. I'm not even sure I could make myself apathetic about all these things if I wanted to. And I feel like it's a self-preservation plan that would ultimately backfire somehow.

But, man. Sometimes hope really sucks.

This Too Shall Pass. This Too Shall Pass. This Too Shall Pass.

Guys, this past week has been a rough one.

A series of crazy scary life circumstances suddenly sprang up at me and Jacob out of nowhere and left me constantly tense, anxious, and on edge all week long. I'm still adjusting.

Sleep has been eluding me. I've been averaging 4 hours or so a night for the last week and a half. That doesn't generally help with life coping.

The whole World Vision fiasco happened, which I found so distressing that I had to run away from social media for a day because every time I read something about it it just made me sadder and sadder.

And depression is definitely back for a visit. And it is hitting HARD.

When depression happens to coincide with actually difficult circumstances, it can be just really, really hard to keep convincing yourself that everything will be OK. Other people offer you solutions and prayer, and it's easy to get cynical about it and think, "Sure, maybe things will work out for them, but everything will be bad for me forever."

I just have to keep telling myself it won't be bad forever.

Because it won't.

Pffft, it's not even that bad right now. I can deal with any one of these things that attacked me this week. It's just when they're all together that it gets overwhelming, and the depression grabs a hold of that and says, "You know how crappy you feel this week? That's how you'll feel for the rest of your life!"

But it's not true.

This week, everything that happens may be making me very sad, but at some point, someday, something is going to happen that makes me very happy. And someday, the things that are making me sad at this moment are going to seem very far away.

Someday.

Maybe even by the time this blog posts.

If not, maybe by the end of the week.

If not, maybe by the middle of the month.

But it will happen, and I'll be OK.

(...Although if blog posts are a little scarce until things are OK, that's why.)

Talking About Depression Now

(A bit of blog business first: I have created a Facebook page specifically for my blog. You can "like" it and then be able to see updates there. I'll also be posting there asking for feedback, blog ideas, and perhaps occasionally posting things that might be relevant to my readers, that sort of thing. Head on over and like the page!)

I kept being reminded this month of an article I read on NPR last fall. It starts off discussing Allie Brosh's book and then goes on to talk about the stigma of discussing depression, not as a past life struggle, but as a current "no, this is happening to me now" kind of thing:

In the conversations surrounding her book, Brosh has made it clear that she is not looking at depression in the rearview mirror in some sort of "let me tell you about this thing that happened to me once" kind of way. She's in it, and she lives with it, and sometimes it's better, and sometimes it's worse. It means you don't see her for a while, because she's a real person and it's a real thing.

And, later:

We're more accustomed as readers to the memoir model, where depression — or addiction, or even ordinary anxiety — appears as a monster from the past, one against which you still have to bolt the door every day, but one that's not there right now, not interfering with your writing about it, not writing about it with you. 

Let me tell you, bloggers like Allie Brosh and Jenny Lawson and Wil Wheaton, who are willing to share their stories about dealing with depression here and now, as they write, are incredibly encouraging to me.

It means that someone else feels the way I do.

Better yet, it means that someone successful, who I admire and who has written books and gained fans and has real Twitter followers they've never met, feels the way I do.

Whenever Jenny Lawson talks about her social anxiety, I feel a kinship with her, and I feel like if someone else goes through that kind of thing, then maybe it's not as awful as I think when I spend my morning freaking out about having to make a phone call.

When Wil Wheaton posts a blog where it's clear that depression and anxiety are attacking his brain, I think, "If someone who still feels like this sometimes has been able to do all this cool stuff with his life... then maybe if I still feel like this sometimes, I'm not completely broken and I'll be able to pull something cool out of my life."

And I can't even put into words how much I love Allie Brosh's two-part series on depression over at her blog. Just read it. I linked to the first part up above.

It's so much easier to talk about depression and anxiety as if I'm over it. It's far more tempting to look strong and triumphant over a past battle than it is to admit that last Wednesday, instead of writing or working or doing anything positive, you just sat on the couch for six hours and cried. But sometimes somebody else you know spent that Wednesday crying on their couch, too. And sometimes it helps to have a reminder that other people, both people close to us and people we admire from afar, sit on their couches and cry for a day.

We're all pretty broken people, whether it's depression or something else. And since we're not there for most other people's breakdowns the way we are for all of our own, it's easy to feel like you are the only one.

So every once in awhile I try to write up something like this that says, "Hey. If you're feeling dumb or worthless or broken today... me too!"

Sometimes just hearing "me too" is exactly what my soul needs to begin the climb back up the hill.

My Introversion Meltdown (And An Attempt to Redeem It)

So. Let's flashback quickly to Friday, August 23rd. Life was good, life was fine, I was having a good weekend, visiting for a couple days with a friend I hadn't seen awhile.

And then this article existed.

It's called "15 Unmistakable, Outrageously Secret Signs You're an Extrovert," and, while I suspect it's meant as a humorous piece, it's a mean humorous piece, and it haunted me.

Haunted me as in it set off an anxiety attack and I cried on and off for the next several hours. As in I couldn't get to sleep that night. As in all the horrible things I'd thought about myself in high school came flooding back into my mind, making me suddenly extremely insecure in everything I did. As in for like a week and a half afterward, I would get really unexpectedly scared and insecure any time anyone mentioned anything that related to my introversion.

I'm sure it didn't help that it was a week of fighting off depression anyway, but it's been years since I felt that uncertain of myself. Every time I did something, the words of that article came flooding back to me:

You know who was an extrovert? Jesus Christ.
The Christian life is meant to be a social one, and if you spend all this time alone or apart from people, how are you ever going to make a difference in the world? You're going to get to the end of your life and it's going to mean nothing. Everything you've done so far is nothing.

(You're an extrovert if) You seem OK; those around you do not constantly feel the need to ask, “Are you OK?”
Because you're obviously not OK. And what you do and feel is not OK. And everyone knows it. That's why they keep asking.

(You're an extrovert if) People like you.
People don't like you, Hannah. People are tired of you. People just wish you would be normal and not go into hiding all the time.

(You're an extrovert if) You don’t ruin camping trips, birthday parties, Christmas parties, office parties, bachelor parties, bachelorette parties, murder mystery parties, anniversary parties, bonfires, sleepovers, vacations, group projects, brunches, lunches, bridal showers, baby showers, concerts, and road trips simply by being yourself.
All those times you pushed yourself and went to parties? You shouldn't have. Because you ruined them. Just like you thought. You're just never going to have friends. And people are never going to like you. They always wish you would just go away and stay home where you clearly belong.

I wanted to respond to this, but I didn't even know how. For one thing, every time I tried to say anything about it, I just cried and cried (even now, I'm crying as I write this because, HOLY CRAP, typing out my inner thoughts is awful sometimes). And I hated that I was so upset about this... but, ya know, when you've spent your whole life believing you're broken, and then you find out you're not, and then somebody else comes along and manages to verbally express all your deepest unspoken fears from your earlier years... turns out sometimes you're not as done fighting that inward battle as you thought you were.

My second reason for not knowing how to address this was that it is so obviously wrong. The mean, angry venom is so transparently, needlessly present that it seemed pointless to go through it all. If I went through this list and explained why nearly everything on this list was horrible and awful, I can't imagine a single one of my friends ever arguing the other side.

And that's when I figured out where to find some comfort.

It was in the fact that my extroverted friends are nothing like this.

While many of my close friends are introverts, I do have quite a few good friends who are extroverts as well, and none of them would ever say anything like this to me or think this about me.

While the author of that article clearly resented introverts for some reason, my extroverted friends certainly don't resent me. They may be confused by me from time to time but they're not mad at me for who I am.

Since it was pointless to go through the article explaining why it's wrong, but since I still felt like I wanted to use it to say something, I wanted to turn it into something redemptive. In the interest of recovering from my meltdown and focusing on the good, I wanted to thank my extrovert friends for, ya know, not being anything like this. Because it's not extroverts that are are obnoxious and mean. Obnoxious and mean people are obnoxious and mean.

So, without further ado:

My Top 10 Favorite Things I Love About My Extrovert Friends
(Obviously not all my extrovert friends fit all these qualities. But they certainly have a lot of these in common.)
1. They really are a lot of fun.
2. Even if I haven't talked to them in awhile, they're still happy to talk to me and catch up.
3. If I'm going through something and need someone to talk to, I don't have to worry that I'm interrupting their alone time.
4. They are a complete blessing during socially awkward events. I can just latch on to one of them and weather the storm.
5. If I do decide I want to get outside my comfort zone and try something new and scary, they're more than willing to try it with me and walk me through it.
6. They get enthusiastic when I get enthusiastic, even if it's about a topic they don't really care about.
7. They can make me feel like they really care about me and like me in a very short amount of time. (It is not uncommon for extroverts to proclaim their platonic love for me very quickly. I used to mistrust that, but I've learned that, no, a lot of the time, they do genuinely like people that quickly.)
8. They're often very open about themselves - if we manage to get into a deep discussion, I feel like I learn so much about them and who they are.
9. They'll listen to me talk about anything and offer feedback. (I'm not sure where this "extroverts can't listen" stereotype came from. Introverts listen well because they're not rushing to talk, while extroverts listen well because they like getting to know people.)
10. They do accept who I am and are beautifully understanding when I need some time alone or can't handle a hug right now. When they get to this point, I can honestly consider them my friends and feel safe around them.

As a last note, my non-introvert friends, if I ever, ever make you feel inferior or looked down on with my introversion posts, please, please tell me. They're meant to be about offering support to a group of people who may just now be learning (like I have been) that we don't suck, and if it ever veers into "and that is why the other side sucks" territory, that's not what I meant at all. I love you guys.

Depression: When Everything Bad Happens Because You Suck

Sometimes when I'm depressed, everything becomes negatively self-centered.

I'm occasionally not very good at dealing with failure anyway, but when I'm depressed, every single thing I fail to do or do incorrectly becomes a generalized internal statement about how rotten I am.

"I don't know the answer to that question" turns into "I'm so stupid."

"I phrased that wrong" turns into "I never do anything right."

Even things that are entirely outside my control, like my level of arthritis pain, reflect back on me and who I am. "My arthritis is really bad today" ends up turning into "I'm useless and can't do anything."

When I'm depressed, if someone disagrees with me, I may just burst into tears and freak them out, because a part of me hears "Actually, I like this movie better" as "You're a stupid idiot for having that opinion."

That's hard to combat. Either I have to make every single decision and perform every task perfectly every time so I receive nothing but praise (which, HA, is never going to happen, because nobody can do that) or I have to find a way of combating the bad thoughts.

Remembering past praise is one way I try to do this. I don't remember if I've shared this before on this blog, but I have a big ol' Word document on my computer where I have written down pretty much every positive, encouraging thing someone has said about me in the past 5-6 years. I read through that document on a pretty frequent basis. It really helps to see page after page of affirmation, of encouragement, of compliments, because while I may not believe any of them individually at the time, several pages of positivity can help to at least balance out, if not entirely counteract, the negativity in my head.

And sometimes I'll just come right out and ask for people to combat that. Every couple months it's not surprising at all to see a Facebook status from me saying, "Having a weird day. I could really use some positive words of affirmation and encouragement. Thanks."

But sometimes I just have wait it out and continue to tell myself, "That's not true. You're not stupid. You're not worthless. That's just the depression talking. You will feel better eventually. Just get through it."

And, eventually, I do.

A Few More Thoughts on Depression

Yup, I'm dealing with it again.

I had a really bad bout from August to October or so, and then it tapered off, and I'd been feeling pretty OK, and then it started attacking again a couple weeks ago. I do think this is one instance where it is being heavily fueled by circumstance - these coincide with the times when I've been away from Jacob the longest. (The fiercely independent "YOU DON'T NEED A MAN TO BE HAPPY" voice in my head is mad at me for letting that fuel my depression, but then the more rational voice says, "Well, you ARE marrying the man, so clearly you love him, so it is perfectly reasonable for you to be extremely sad at not being with him.")

Anyway.

There are a couple things I have noted about my bout with depression this time around:

1. My blog might be pretty fluffy for awhile. I've had about 15 "serious" blogs I've been meaning to write - things about church and introversion and quotes I read and movies besides just random lists. But when depression hits, it robs me of my motivation and my energy to find the words to say what I want to say. And I care about finding the words I want to say. I don't want to just throw out a first draft and be like, "Yup, good enough, done."

I don't know when I'll get around to writing a couple of more serious blogs again. I'd like to, but if those are the blogs you're holding out for, it might be a little bit.

2. Taking basic care of myself becomes much harder than usual. Yesterday morning it took all the energy I had to motivate myself to get out of bed, put on clean clothes, and brush my hair and teeth. I had nothing left to give to things like putting my coat on or climbing in and out of the family van, much less socializing with people at church. When I'm depressed, showers and eating just don't sound like they're worth the trouble. If I'm not careful, I'll go a couple days without eating. (I'm sure a fair amount of this is aggravated by my arthritis, which also robs me of movement and energy.)

3. It's cyclical, and breaking the cycle is hard. I get depressed that I'm not accomplishing anything, and then that depresses me so much it paralyzes me and I can't get anything accomplished, and then I get depressed that I'm not accomplishing anything all over again.

4. Motivational speeches from friends don't work. Not so much this time, but in the past I've had well-meaning friends encourage me to get stuff done and help hold me accountable - "You should do this today!" "Go get some work done and tell me when you've finished!" "Just get one thing done today and you'll feel so much better!" If I was just feeling lazy, this would absolutely work. I love having people I can report back to. However, if I'm depressed, what ends up happening is this: every time I fail to accomplish something, I am overwhelmed by thoughts that I'm letting that person down. I start withdrawing from them because I don't want to admit today was my twelfth bad day in a row and I still haven't finished that application for the job I actually want. I start imagining their disappointment and their thoughts of, "Why haven't you gotten it together yet?" and instead of motivating me, it paralyzes me further.

Withdrawing from everyone and going the route of depression alone is obviously not a good answer. Loving support from friends and family is clearly important. But I'm learning what methods of support work for me and which ones don't. This is good, this is a step up. I had a friend who offered to help me by letting me report successes to her, so I told her I'd love to accept her help but she had to promise me she wasn't going to expect anything so I wouldn't feel like I was letting her down. We agreed on this arrangement, and I'm hoping that if I never feel like she's expecting success from me, I'll be freer to actually find success and share it with her without guilt.

5. I have to have to have to remember that, ultimately, I'm okay. I have a place to live. I have loyal friends and a wise family and a thoughtful fiance, and they all love me. Arthritis aside, I am fairly healthy. I have space where I can go to be alone and space where I can be surrounded by friends. I know who I am and what I want in life.

Most importantly, I know the depression is temporary. It may not feel temporary. But in the back of my mind, I know that these feelings come and go. It may be another week, or another month, or another year, but I've never had a serious depressive period that lasted longer than a couple months, and most likely it won't this time either. If I can keep it together through this season, eventually I will be back in another good season.

There's not really a "point" to this blog other than to share a few thoughts from my own experience and apologize for any impact it may have on my blog. In closing, let me share one of the most (perhaps weirdly) comforting songs for me when I'm in the middle of one of these bouts - "For Now" from Avenue Q.

I'm Back (Maybe)! Also Some Stuff About Depression

So, as I mentioned in my previous blog post, I'm in the midst of a depressive... episode? Flare-up? Whatever you want to call it. After about a month off of blogging, I'm feeling the creative urge again and am hoping to resume regular posting. However, I wanted to start off this next batch of posts with a little piece about what depression looks like for me and how I attempt to deal with it.

My depression usually takes the form of anxiety and anhedonia. It's generalized anxiety, so there's nothing specific I can focus on - I just feel a general sense of doom and unpleasantness and like everything is wrong. If I'm dealing with non-depression-based anxiety (which is fairly common for me), it's easy for me to distract myself with a movie or a chat with a friend, and then I feel much better about the whole thing. But if I'm dealing with depression anxiety, nothing I do can fix it. If I try to watch a movie or a TV show, I can't focus on it, and I find my mind drifting off to panic about nothing in particular. Then I get frustrated, try again, and once again can't focus. I feel no better and now have a rising panicky feeling that I won't be able to turn off the anxiety, EVER.

So what do I do about it?

These are a couple of the tricks and coping mechanisms that have worked for me, to keep me functioning.

-I work to allow "mental health days" into my schedule. I figure out how many days are available for me to take off if necessary. Then, if a day comes up in which I am so anxious about my daily responsibilities that it is making me physically sick, I have that time to take off. I allow myself a very limited amount - in school I usually granted myself 2 or 3 a semester (fewer if I was in demanding classes where missing a day would have major repercussions). Sometimes I didn't even use them, but knowing they were there made a difference.

-I cut out most unnecessary social interaction, unless I really feel up to it. Sometimes I feel bad for doing that, as on my days off and in my mornings I hide in my room and may not speak to my housemates all day. However, if I am stressed and only interacting out of obligation, that is not a fun social time for me OR my friends. It's better to hold off until I'm in a better place emotionally.

-I count time in smaller increments. Instead of thinking, "I have to work eight hours today," which may feel overwhelming, I think, "I have to work for two hours, and then I have a break," and I focus on that, pretending that I don't have to return after that. Mentally, I always feel certain that I can power through two hours of something. Two hours is easy, I tell myself over and over again. Usually this at least allows me to get through daily chores on a functional level.

-I become very impulsive. If I have a sudden urge that I want to do something, I tend to go along with it and refuse to allow myself guilt, because I don't know when the next opportunity will arise for me to do something that brings me pleasure. (What with the anhedonia and all.) Do I want to sit in bed all day watching movies and not get up at any point? Then I do that. Do I suddenly really, really, really want Wendy's even though the closest one is an hour away? Then I go. Do I suddenly have an incredible urge to own a certain movie? Then I buy a used copy on Amazon. The small rush I get from doing an occasional "happy making" activity will sometimes carry me through the day, so I act on those impulses whenever possible.

Obviously depression hits people differently, and everyone who has dealt with it has their own bag of mental tricks to fight it, along with medication or therapy, if that is a good option for them. I just wanted to share a little bit of what this looks like in my life, and especially how it has looked for me over the past couple weeks.