What's wrong with me?

You know those commercials for Zymbalta, Zoloft and the like?  The ones where someone is just sitting in a room alone, sobbing uncontrollably, and doesn't know why?  Or can't get out of bed even though physically they're fine, but placing a foot on the floor is too daunting a task?  Well, I've been feeling that way very recently.  I get little waves of depression where I'm just "bummed" for lack of a better word, and I really have no idea where it came from.  Sure there are things going on in my life that warrant depression, but at the specific moment that the waves come, I'm not thinking about those things, so I have no idea where it's coming from.  And worse yet, I have such a hard time coming out of it.  My husband or family will pick up on the immediate change in mood and ask things like, "why are you crabby?" or "what's wrong with you?" and that certainly doesn't help.  In fact, it puts me on the defensive and then I get angrier or sadder. 

Last night my husband asked what was wrong with me and I just said, "I don't know".  And maybe it was hearing the frustration in my voice, and knowing that I truly didn't know, so he just let me be and quietly sat until I was able to come-to again.

I hate these rapid mood swings and wish I knew when they were coming so I could try to put the kabosh on them, but I think this must be what a lot of people go through.  I hope beyond hope that this is not something that is going to continue to gain frequency and that there's just some subconcious stressors that are rearing their ugly heads at once.

I don't want to be depressed.  I can't imagine anyone does.

Secrets, secrets are no fun. . .

I've been really struggling lately with a secret that I'm keeping for a family member. It's not my story to tell. At least that's how I've justified not sharing it with the rest of the family. But it's one of those things that I want to explore further and don't feel like I really can without the potential for letting the cat out of the bag to those that the originator chose not to reveal it to. It's really a BIG deal and while those not in the know could live a full life without ever knowing, now that I know I really don't want to bury it. Ugh, I'm really confused and don't want to hurt anyone. But as usual, it's at my expense.

AAAAAAAACHOO!

Nice family weekend getaway ending with a bad sunburn and a nasty cold. At least I got to have a vacation without being sick. It's usually the other way around -- I always get sick while I'm away. Now instead I brought my cooties back home with me to share with my fellow coworkers. They're more than thrilled I might add.

Sunburn + cold = no workouts for past few days : ( I will return, I tell you! This time I'm going to stick with it. And how do I know this? Because I actually miss it. Huh, go figure.

Cautiously optimistic

I know it's only been four days, but I have to say that since beginning the new diet/exercise thing I've been feeling good. Noticed a little more pep in my step, and more importantly I've been a bit less down in the dumps. Maybe there is something behind that exercise euphoria I've heard about. Either way, trying not to overdo it so I don't give in to the dark side but I'm having a little, dare I say, fun adding new activities to keep me going. And the diet part is really only being more aware of what I'm eating and skipping on the extras more often. I'm not going crazy people. Well, technically I should say I'm not getting any crazier. At least for now. Feeling a bit like one of my fave characters, Bob, in What About Bob? "I feel good. I feel great. I feel wonderful."

Die-et and Exorcise

Yep that's how I feel about those loathesome words. I think there's a reason they are so similar to both physical and spiritual death. But since I'm soooo miserable with the blob I've become, I know there's nothing else but to battle those demons and start a new plan of action.

Oh, and when I say start, I really mean it. I'm a beginner at best. If there's a level below novice, that's me. I. Don't. Do. Shit. Really. May be the depression. May be lazyness. Who knows? But I know I have to do something because the pounds they are a-piling and my metabolism is on hiatus.

So I started a treadmill plan today. Walking that gradually turns into jogging. Goal of every weekday morning, getting my arse up and on that god-forsaken machine. Trying a half hour M-F to start. Biggest bummer is that everyone I talk to says I won't see any difference if I don't change my diet, too. I don't feel like I'm a total wreck in that department, but I do enjoy food. I really do. Not overeater level, but I don't like to miss a meal. There's so many wonderful flavors out there, how can I not? So in that department I'm going to cut out some "extras", even though I don't feel like there are a ton of options there, but I'll try.

I gotta tell you though, if I don't see some serious results within a month's time, I'm going to be pissed. And a depressed pissed person is not a good combo. Oh, and a depressed-pissed-HUNGRY person should be feared.

Mind games

I used to swear by my memory. I could (and still can to some degree) remember the most trival stuff. Phone numbers I haven't dialed in more than 20 years, birthdays of friends long, long forgotten, trivial facts about celebrities that I've long traded in for new arrivals. . .it was really great to have that much faith in something.

Recently (last few years) I've started worrying about the loss of this great ability. I find myself searching for the most basic of terms, especially when I'm talking to someone about something. Example: asking my husband to use the microwave, and I can't even think of the word "microwave". I know what it is, but the word escapes me. Instead I describe what a microwave is, you know, that thing that you put the food in and it cooks it real fast and has a timer. . .ridiculous, i know, but sometimes that's the drill. Like an unending game of Password.

Other times I find that I'm able only to figure out a term or a song title or whathaveyou by going through the alphabet until I come across the letter that starts the word. I feel like that at least challenges me a bit to really think hard on it, but it's funny that so many times when I get to the letter that the name starts with, it's like a lightbulb immediately turns on and I can "see" the name in front of me. Or at least start putting it together and eventually get there.

Never hear anyone else talk about these types of memory losses. Wonder if I'm the only one that plays the alphabet game. Can't imagine I'm alone in all of this, but it doesn't help that when these mind hiccups happen, I start to fret a little that my family history of Alzheimers and dementia could be rearing its ugly head already.

I'm only in my mid-30s, so I know it's too soon. But could this be my warning to get my head in shape so I'm able to handle things better when I'm twice my age? If so, I'm taking notice. I just don't know if I should be doing other things to delay the progress.

Movie misery

How can I wonder why I've been so bummed lately, when a recent review of my past movie rentals consisted of the following:

The Messenger
The Road
The Notebook
The Reader


Either I need to stop watching movies that begin with "The" or Netflix needs to put a cap on the amount of depressing flicks you can rent in one month. Seriously. Anyone seen a good comedy lately? I need recommendations. And if not for me, then for the sanity of my poor innocent (and non-mental) husband who is about to take my movie privileges away.

On my tippy toes

Been a rough week my dear Bloggy. Having a harder time getting up and going to work. Finding myself feeling trapped instead of grateful, which by the way, I'm very grateful. I know I'm fortunate to have a job in these tough times but when you feel like you HAVE to have the job instead of being excited to go to work, it's tough. I have a really good job - why can't I just be happy with that? The downside is that I travel so far to get to/from it and I fell like I'm missing a lot of life in between.

Also another fight with a sibling that just seems to make me want to move away from everyone. I have a large family and used to be the one that fought to get everyone together all the time but now I find that I don't care as much if I see everyone or not. I love my family. And I mean LOVE them, but am really struggling with liking them lately. Especially one member in particular. Big age difference - little understanding. On both parts.

I've been really proud of my growth lately, especially emotionally, and yet this post shows me that I'm shrinking. But not all the way down, just losing a little footing.

I was going to delete this post because I know it's just something I'm going through right now and it will pass but I'm trying to be really honest and truthful here, so I'm going to use it as a tool. I will learn from this whiny moment and move on. Onward and upward.

Money, money, money, mon-ey. . .

The root of all evil. Definitely coined for a reason. Why is it that something so necessary makes us all so crazy? Not that I think having a lot of green would fix all my problems, but it sure would help a few. Having a hard time my dear Bloggy. . .oh, mind if I call you that? I feel like we've reached that level. Anywho, I'm struggling because I have a job that pays me really well for little work, but my hubby has a job that he works really hard at, but rarely gets paid. Sigh. It's more and more stressful on our marriage every day. And I'm really having trouble believing it's going to get magically better any time soon. See, dear Bloggy, he is a considered an independent contractor, but works for only one organization, so it's like having a boss but without all the benefits of a regular-type job. And while you'd think it would be payment upon completion of work, that's not the case. Because he works for a sorta-friend, said sorta-friend thinks it's ok to lead him around until he collects the money from the client. Um, no. That's not how it's supposed to work. But alas, as the options have been extremely limited (read: non-existent) for available work elsewhere, it's been what we've had to deal with. For now.

But I've had it up to here (and beyond) so I've put my foot down and demanded change. Well, as much as I can demand, I can't really control other people. If I could that would be cool, but major responsibility and I already have enough on my plate. I'm tired of living day-to-day (money-wise) when I'm bringing home enough bacon for an extended-family brunch! Every payday I just watch it disappear and wonder if I'm going to have enough for anything extra. And by extra, I mean a good grocery trip. You know, the ones where you get fresh fruit and veggies and cheese and deli meat. Not the kind where you run in and out with a bag of Buddig and some canned corn.

Dear Bloggy, this is causing me extreme stress, and I'm falling into a sea of depression. Alas, at least you are still free to me. At least for now.

Nothing much, just typing to myself

So once again I think I'm done with therapy. EVERY time I go I find that I know more about myself than the therapist does -- granted that should be the case since I've been with me a lot longer -- but in my defense, if she's diagnosing issues I'm having and I'm like, "no, I think it's really this. . ." then I'm not getting anywhere. It really felt like I was just more or less paying money to talk out loud and not really be judged. I think I'll try doing that at home, or maybe just this blog will continue to assist me in getting the crazies out of my head. I don't know. Who really does? I found that my therapist was more concerned about finding some deep-routed issue of my past than helping me get through my many struggles of today, which is what I'm more focused on right now. The past has been fine for this long, it's the present/future I'm having a hard time hanging on to.

Would be very helpful to hear how others (who struggle with depression) found therapy to work (or not) for them. But since I don't know how to solicit feedback, I guess I'll just continue living vicariously through the other blogs out there in my quest for guidance. In the end, I guess it's just me and you, kid.

Struggling

Have an appointment for tonight with the therapist but I've already decided to cancel. Just not feeling like sharing today, and I'm too stressed out about the present so delving into the past isn't really a priority right now. Not giving up, just rescheduling for next week when I think I'll be more receptive to the whole give-take thing. Right now I just don't give a crap and can't take anymore. Overwhelmed is a little bit of an understatement and I'm waiting for things to ease up a bit. Just wondering how long I have to hang in there for. Not that I have any options but to hang in there - just hoping I can do it with a modicum of grace. When in doubt, I watch the news. Nothing depresses me more and helps put things into perspective. Things don't seem so bad after watching all the other atrocities of man. How's that for uplifting?

Is there a middle ground between obsessed and detached?

What do you do when you see someone destroying their life and they know it, but won't do anything about it? I understand that you can't make someone do something they aren't ready for, that's not the issue. The issue is how do you, as someone who loves this individual, allow it not to affect your mental health?
I am so tied into the lives of my loved ones and I don't know how to disentangle myself without completely shutting them out. I listen. I provide guidance. And then when it's ignored and they go back to the same exact thing they swore they wouldn't, I break down. And I worry. Forever.

I want to get to that point where I can just listen and not comment, and then when their rant is over I go back to my life knowing that nothing will change and I'm OK with that. I know people who can do this. Probably my therapist is one of them. But I don't know how not to worry about people once the conversation is over.

And if I do get this down some day, honestly, I worry that I will become unfeeling and dismissive. How do you listen to the same story over and over, knowing the result is always the same, and not let feelings of disgust or disappointment ooze out? I think the only way to do that is to be detached, and I just don't know that I want to be that person.

2nd verse, same as the first?

Second therapy visit tomorrow and I wonder how it will play out. I feel like I dumped so much on this poor unsuspecting woman the first time that she may want to take the lead on this one. She wants to delve into my past, but I find the more I try to remember things, the harder it is to really know if the memories I'm giving her are true or just what I feel now. How can I answer a question about how something made me feel 25 years ago without letting my present feelings get jumbled up in the process? Sure wish I had total recall and could really feel strongly about the information I'm sharing. And why is my memory so bad these days? I've been taking vitamins, trying to exercise my brain with memory tests, etc. but I have lost so much already and am only approaching mid-30s!?! So this worry leads me to the ultimate fear of dementia and Alzheimer's, which my grandmother and great-grandmother both had, but in varying forms. And that's just what I need is something else to worry about. I'm starting to gather that each thing I try to lay to rest in therapy is just going to open up something new to explore. These therapists really know what they're doing -- they getcha for life!

I Survived!

It was late in the day as I was leaving my first therapy appointment, and the counselor noted that she had to unlock the door to let me out. It was then that I knew I must not have scared her too much, because she was letting me leave.

All in all it went well. I was proud of myself for getting through the first visit with only a few moments of tears -- this is saying a lot considering I'm one of those that cries at pretty much EVERYTHING! I was stronger than I had thought I would be and more importantly, honest with my emotions when I needed to be. Sometimes crying is a nice release and I definitely wanted to release some of the stuff that's been plaguing me for a long, long time.

I think blogging in between visits is going to help. When you're in the moment, you don't always see everything as clearly as when you walk away and think about it. She told me that it was going to take awhile (my recovery), but that I would get through this. Convincing myself of this is going to be key to making that happen. Baby steps. . .

Healthcare -- and not the talk that EVERYONE's having today.

Don't you just love it when you book a doctor's appointment for an issue you're experiencing right now, and because they can't see you for weeks and weeks after, the problem is all magically fixed by the time you get to see them? But it's not really fixed, more like hiding out until you leave the office and then BAM! - it's back again and you can't see the damn doc for another month! At least that's the way it usually works out for me.

This time it's a mental health issue that hasn't disappeared on its own. At least not entirely. It's more like a running cycle of dealing with stuff the best way I can, having it culminate into something I can no longer deal with, minor explosion, making appointment for shrink (or the like), start to feel better, appointment day comes and I wonder why I'm even bothering. Talk to the Professional Listener (PL), feel a little better, go to next appointment, walk out feeling like I know myself better than she/he ever will, and I'm cured and don't neeed to go again. The second part (actually going to see someone) has only happened twice. In a few weeks it will be my third attempt, and I'm hoping I last longer than I have before. I really don't think it's fair to expect that someone who doesn't even know me can fix me in a record two visits, but then again, I've always had some control issues and think I can just fix myself.

But up until now I just thought my problems were affecting me. Recently I learned (from a very frank discussion with a sibling), that my mental inadequacies were oozing out into my associations with others. Always thought I was keeping the little buggers trapped inside for the most part. Even my loving husband who deals with me every day hadn't called me out before. Maybe it was just my sister having a bad day. But the more I absorbed what she said, the more I realized that even if it was her bad day, apparently I'd had enough of them to bring this on for her and while I can usually deal with my own pain, I didn't want to cause it for others.

So here I sit at my computer, counting the days until I meet with the PL and hoping I still have the courage to really invest the time needed to make myself better. If not for me at first, then maybe for the innocents left in my wake, having to scramble for their own steady ground.

All Aboard!

Wow, the first post is pretty difficult, huh? Wonder if this is what writer's feel when they hit a stumbling block mid-story. I'm reminded of the scene in Beetlejuice where Winona Ryder's character starts her suicide letter (no folks, I'm not there so don't go sending this in to the help lines). She write, "I am alone. I am utterly alone. By the time you read this I will be gone. Having jumped, having plummeted off the River Winter Bridge." See? No worries, just a comparison to writing, not offing myself.

Anyway, I think the rambling above will be a constant theme throughout this blog, so I apologize in advance if this is hard to follow sometimes. I have trouble following my own train of thoughts regularly. They just come out of nowhere and are not the most well-behaved either. Little buggers will NOT be silenced. Really wish I had a mute button for my head sometimes. But since I don't, I guess I'm just going to have to learn how to deal with it. Suggestions are welcome. Well, as long as they don't involve anything weird. Not much into candlewax on the nipples, or witchcraft, or anything of the sort. Sorry, another movie thought. Yep, this is how it works in this little space between my ears. With all the jumbled mess in there, I certainly hope there is room for improvement.

Till my next rambling. . .