The last couple of weeks has been hectic to say that least, what with my proposal presentation, attending a symposium for the first time and running a few experiments that still need to be tweaked. Work wasn’t the only thing keeping me busy, there was also the ever present and never fondly welcomed issue of slipping into depression.
I spent nearly a week toeing the line between feeling lonely and being alone. It wasn’t as though I shut myself off from the world, I still interacted with some people but they were simply in passing. Suffice to say I reached a point where I went and bought myself a tiny stuffed orca to hug. (She is called Cassandra and is awesome.) I guess I was feeling a bit touch-starved and scared of falling back on old habits from my depression days.
I still find it hard to believe that it’s going to be almost a year since I got diagnosed with clinical depression. And here I am today, off my meds for two months and piecing my life back together. Like I keep saying, I know my warning signs a lot better now. I know when to run away from a place or a person because I am slowly understanding my own worth as a human being and how to put myself first. I also know when to seek out someone to talk to and I am lucky to have found a support system both on twitter and real life.
A lot of people ask me why I choose to blog about my depression or why I don’t tend to shy away from confirming yes, I do have clinical depression. My reasoning is simple, it’s a part of me. My depression doesn’t define who I am as a person, but it does shape the kind of person I am. Not to mention, I am tired of the stigma we have about mental illness and I want to do my part to end it. But, that doesn’t mean everyone should have my approach because let’s face it, everyone has their own way of dealing and handling their mental health and asking them to do something they are not comfortable doing is a terrible burden to put on them.
I am not ashamed of my mental illness. That doesn’t mean I treat it like a badge of honor as well though. I treat my mental illness as I treat my migraine or the hairline fracture on the side of my hand; they are all parts of me.
If you feel like talking to someone, my ears are always here (attached to my head… hopefully).
Words of power. Powerful words. The power in words.
I have been rolling these phrases on my tongue for the last few hours. I don’t know where to start. I know firsthand the power behind words; the way they slice my flesh, snake their way under my skin and dig into my heart, festering as though a bullet shattered into a thousand pieces.
So yes, I know the force behind the words. But, if it was words that whispered “You are worthless”, then it was words that took hold of my hand and dragged me through the mud and left me at the shore. I still have bits and pieces of that riverbed stuck in my throat that I spit out just to stop choking on them. So yes, words. I am quite familiar with it dear friend. Perhaps this is why I know what you are trying to say when you sigh “I can’t get out of bed today”. Because that right there is the annoying shrill of the fire alarm in my head. And no matter what I do I can’t fight this for you. Not even my I-will-probably-kill-and-hide-the-body-for-you kind of love will be enough for this fight. And few will learn to accept this struggle of yours as valid and I am sorry for that. I am sorry for the number of times you will hear “it’s just a phase” or “are you crazy” or… no I am going to stop because you don’t need to hear them here. You will never hear them here, never.
I don’t have words for you that could help and it makes me feel so excruciatingly helpless. I don’t have the words, because I am out of them myself. I only have my second-hand crutches to offer you with shaking hands and a note that they are slightly wobbly so take care when you lean on them. And another note in hasty scribbles how you will never be just broken but broken so majestically that you will only ever be a kintsugi, a piece of art because that’s what we all are. Never broken, never a mess that needs to be fixed by someone else. We fix ourselves, we pour that hot, bubbling gold in our veins and muffle our screams. And we are never broken.
Let’s talk. Such a simple sentence and yet it carries such complexities with it. None more so when it is uttered in the context of mental health.
In an ideal world, mental health issues wouldn’t be stigmatised. In an ideal world, we wouldn’t have to fear that we are broken or beyond help. In an ideal world, I wouldn’t have to worry about being labelled by my depression just as I am not labelled by the hair-line fracture running the length of my metacarpal. But we don’t live in an ideal world. Ours is a fractured one, a terrifying battlefield of strewn limbs and shell-shocked minds.
Here is the paradox of this vow of silence, we need to talk about mental health issues. It is the only way we are going to have some semblance of control over ourselves. So this speak no evil, hear no evil business that we have going on with these issues? It needs to stop. And, we can stop it. We just need to talk and listen. If you have a moment (which I assume you do, or else you wouldn’t be here) listen to this video.
You are going to have to ask for help even if you think it’s all in your head. Actually, especially then. Talk to the campus counsellors, your close friends or use websites such as the Black Dog Institute or Every Day Health to ask for help and advice. Despite the stigma against visiting your campus counsellor that may be present in your peer group, go to them. Make an appointment and explain to them how you are feeling. Yes, you may feel embarrassed to talk about your triggers or the situation at hand, but it’s better if you can be as honest as possible. Not to mention, try to keep up with your appointments. [I made the mistake of dropping out of them when I felt I was getting somewhere, which turned out to be a colossal mistake.] More often than not they will try their best to lend you a hand when you feel like you are drowning.
Speaking of drowning, know the signs. Do you often feel like you don’t have any life eft in you to drag yourself out of bed for days? No, it is most likely not laziness. Most of us are quite capable of separating our usual procrastination from that hollow feeling in our bones. Talk to other people. Figure out how they manage their symptoms. If it turns out that you have to be on medications, do not feel ashamed or as though you are somehow less of a person for getting help. Different people have different biochemistry and there is no singular prescription for any mental health issues. Like any other adjustments, this too is a trial and error process.
My mother has a saying that she likes to repeat in times of trouble:
Life will be daunting. You are still going to live through it.
Let’s face it, I am a procrastinator of the highest order. I am also incredibly forgetful and scatterbrained about most day-to-day things. Now that you know I am plagued by two such curses, what’s a girl to do if she isn’t waiting for her knight in shining armour? Why, make a list of what soothes or ails her more and let it float into the gentle breeze. Too much purple prose for you? Fear not denizens of the sticky web, I will cut it out shortly.
That looks accurate.
There’s an App for it
I use HabitBull to jot down a few things that I should be doing everyday but either tend to skip or forget that I did them at all. For instance I regularly forget whether or not I have taken my medications or grabbed my keys as I run out of the door. Time a reminder on the app and voila I can keep track of tiny things that might end up defining a good portion of the day for me. Locking yourself out and realising it at 10 pm is not a fun trip down memory lane.
(Trying) to Stick to a Routine
This is important and if your first thought to ‘routine’ is to scream “Booooring” like my 4 year old cousin, then go sit in the corner for the next five minutes.
Routine helps. It helps people like me who suffer from both depression and panic attacks. I can function much better on the days I manage to stick to my routine than when I don’t. Most tips to ward against depression highlight how important it is that you try to have a working routine. Not only does it help to decrease the long lounges on the bed that we are prone to, it also serves to hammer down a manageable pattern. Think of a routine as the one thing that is under your control (internal) instead of the circumstances around you (external). Feeling even a bit in control can go a long way to stave off the latest wave of panic.
The past few days I stopped following my routine and that played havocs on my moods. Sure, the lack of structure wasn’t the only reason but it still played a part. On the bright side, I understand the importance of keeping track of myself more than ever.
Answer to Yourself
While I was writing this post I was using Eggscellent to keep track of how long I worked based on the Pomodoro technique. For each 25 minutes that I worked, I got a 5 minutes break. Or I can play around with the allocated time or completely ignore the break time should the creative juices get flowing. You might ask why need an app or a timer to begin with? Well the answer is simple and honest: I am quite prone to not working within a set time period because I know deep down that I can get it done even at the last minute. More often than not I do manage to finish my work, but I have developed a reluctance to keeping such a schedule (well lack of one to be specific). With the timer I am making myself accountable to something other than myself, which works out fine for me. So, if you think you can’t manage your time unless you have to answer to a second party, an app like this works well.
Shut it ALL down
For your phone, mute all other notifications save for the most basic ones like texts, calls and events. Use applications like Hush for OSX (from the same people who gave us Coffitivity) that silences the unnecessary notifications that sidetrack you while you work. If you are unwilling to go cold turkey on all fronts then keep the notifications on your phone on but on vibrate. You don’t really need to know who replied to you Facebook post or retweeted your tweet the exact minute it happens. No, you really don’t. Keep your email notifications on if like me you only have work emails coming in, otherwise enjoy the blessed silence. If something of utmost emergency does happen people are far more likely to call you as opposed to Facebook it to you (at least for me).
Another great tool for procrastinators like myself happen to be the aptly named StayFocused extension that you can use on your Chrome. At it’s core the extension behaves like your helicopter parents with the exception that it works within the parameters you set. It gives you a certain amount of time you can spend on sites you think are making you act like a zombie and blocks you out of them afterwards. I have to admit, the extension alone won’t do you much good if you aren’t being honest with yourself.
Uh Change?
Use an unobtrusive writing platform if you think it will help you get more work done. For me Imagine works best when I am working on blog posts and not on literature reviews or reports (MS Word and EndNote are a science student’s best friend). Bottom line? Cut down on the distractions. Put on some instrumental music if that’s your thing or the morning track from coffitivity and get to work. Personally, I prefer Celtic tunes over most music because I can work and tap my foot to a nice rhythm.
Get up
I will be honest, I added this part as an afterthought which shouldn’t be the case at all. For every thirty minutes or an hour that you sit in front of your laptop or reading a well thumbed book, stand up and do a few easy stretches or movements. For me, I went with 30 squats for each hour of sitting before my laptop in addition to morning meditation, stretches and yoga. Meditation, like most people have said before, works wonders for my temperament. It’s a tad difficult to go from loose limbed bliss to rage after a session or even during the day. This is also where HabitBull helps me keep track of these things on a day-to-day basis. [I am a report-card needed kind of a person, ok?]
My brief foray into subduing my procrastination has been tampered with fighting my depression as well. And while I do shrug my shoulders at both, I am trying to work with them instead of against them. In order to recognise and deal with the signs of another upcoming depression episode I can try my best to be active and swat the procrastination bug along with it.
No, seriously don’t. If you have had good grades most of your life and despite your bouts of depression scored better than most of your class, people are always going to say you are making your depression up. I have been told that exact same thing.
“Oh but you don’t seem to be struggling with work?!”
“Attention seeker much?”
“She just can’t deal with not being good” (Which is ironic)
All through my O and A-levels and for the last 3 years in my Bachelors degree I have scored consistently better than most. But that doesn’t mean that I am making up my depression. It’s like if you are smart (in the grades sense at least) you are going to have crash and burn to ‘prove’ to people you have depression. Just so they can say “Well you need to buckle up. Will power blah blah.”
Give me a break! I didn’t get out of my dorm room for over a MONTH other than to get take away or use the wash room. I am someone who genuinely enjoys cleaning, mostly cause my dust allergy is horrible. And that same me spent over a month in a room where dust and hair layered the floor. If I could travel back to four months ago I would hug that me, because it breaks my heart. Yes, I scored better than most, because some topics are easier for me (Genetics for instance) but I didn’t nearly do half as good as I would have w/o depression. I am postponing starting my Honours course by a semester because I need the time. I am a private person who won’t put up a facebook status saying I am depressed or I want to kill myself. Nor will I want to cry in public in front of strangers. (Except that one time I broke down on a beach before the Hospital on my way to my friend’s place). But nooooo I am making it up because my academic career doesn’t resemble a complete war zone.
In other news, it’s been 16 days I have been on ProDep and Xanax. They seem to be working well, haven’t had a single episode (even with my Mother in hospital), it’s like a cotton wall in my brain.
I took Xanax last night before sleeping as instructed. Turns out 0.5 mg is a bit too much for me, probably because I am used to taking Norium for my migraine as well. But I swear by the cute bunnies everywhere that was one hell of a sleep. And before I drifted off, I could definitely feel the dry mouth and lowering of inhibitions, well at least I spoke my mind about things or so my sister reports. Turns out I complained a lot about people being assholes. So probably will reduce my dosage to 0.25 mg and then see tonight again.
ProDep seems to be working as well, slight dryness of the mouth but other than that I can concentrate a bit better. Though I wonder is it because I want to concentrate better or is it because of the medication? Guess only time will tell.
Mom is scheduled for surgery on either Wednesday or Thursday. A friend of mine is getting married then but I SO don’t want to go to her shindig mostly because they won’t understand my situation. (Did someone say selfish snobs?)
3 am Ramblings 