Just to add to the general fun and games of CFS, being female throws an extra curve ball into the works every month or so. Yup, this was the week of the Hormonal Apocalypse otherwise know as my period. What makes it worse is that since the CFS started I have no idea when it will show up. It skipped a month this time so arrived unannounced on Friday evening. This explains my bizarre meltdown on Wednesday closely followed by the three day physical crash and burn culminating in not being able to get out of bed yesterday. Ah fun times...
At least when I was healthy, I knew when it was coming and I understood my bizarre behavior and took some extra B6 to avert the sense of impending doom. I tend to get very VERY depressed just before my period. It slowly builds the week before to climax in an epic meltdown. It was so predictable that when I went crying to hubs that I was a terrible mother/wife/employee/fillintheblank, he would ask me if my period was coming up. This meltdown phase rapidly ends as soon as my period starts. It is like a light switch gets flipped and I'm happy again and left wondering what the big deal was a couple of days ago. Yeah, whack. I know.
So now I have a problem. How can I tell if I'm truly depressed or if it is just hormonal? The randomness of my periods doesn't allow me to use the calendar as a warning system any longer. I have so many mood swings because of my illness anyway that I am at a loss to figure out whether to take antidepressants or not. I hate adding more meds to my regimen. I hate taking antidepressants in general. But this last meltdown was a doozie, a total sobfest on my shrink's couch on Wednesday. I had no idea it was hormonal. I'm probably going to try the antidepressants. This emotional roller-coaster I'm on sucks. I hate it just slightly more than I hate taking the meds.
I did feel better when I started my Paleo diet a year ago but I'm no longer sure if it was due to the food or the hope that it would "cure" my CFS. While the diet has helped with symptoms, I'm obviously not over the CFS. I've been cheating a lot but I don't know if that is due to my pissy mood of late. Apparently carb cravings are part and parcel of depression. After all, wheat acts as an opiate in the brain so it isn't too much of a stretch that it makes you feel better emotionally after you eat it.
BTW, yesterday morning I couldn't get out of bed. In fact, I could barely move. You know what I did... I ate sandwiches. Yup, I had a carbolishous day! Roast beef sandwich and fries, then a turkey club on sourdough with potato chips and a chocolate shake. You know what. I feel GREAT today! I'm up. I'm moving about. I have a little bit of intestinal pain from all the bread but I got to shower and go grocery shopping and go out to eat with hubs. And I'm happy! So potatoes or prozac???? Or was it just the end of the Hormonal Apocalypse???
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Monday, December 17, 2012
Monday, May 30, 2011
Anger and Depression
Anger and depression are really two sides of the same coin. At least in my case. Instead of getting angry I get depressed. I'm having a bad day today. It took a week of resting to get to the point where I could circumnavigate my back yard to inspect my flowers. Then my husband took me for a ride while he dropped off some sound equipment. The trip was roughly and hour and a half. We then ate dinner on the way home. We ate out on the patio of the resteraunt so that we could enjoy the nice weather. I watched the sparrows hopping around under the tables hunting for food scraps. I admired the lilac bushes that were oddly still in bloom (mine hit their peak a week ago and now look pretty crappy). We got home and I was tired. I sat and finished my book. After one hour of reading my eyes hurt and I could no longer focus them and everything was blurry. I sat down to watch episodes of Glee on Netflix. Hubby decided that we should go out for ice cream. I was tired but in my desperate need for normalcy and companionship I went. This would be nice. Go out for ice cream. I knew it was going to keep me up half the night but I didn't care. Hubby decided to take noisy car. He loves this thing. It is a '55 Bel Aire that he built himself. He races it on the drag strip. Back when I was healthy I didn't mind riding in it once in a while. Now that I'm sick it is not my preferred mode of transport. It is uncomfortable. It is loud. It vibrates horribly. It is loud. I can't talk because it hurts my throat to yell that loud. Did I mention it is loud??
The day had gone pretty well so far. But hubby decided that he wanted to cruse around town with me in the loud car. Not what I wanted to do. Not in that car. I don't do well in that car. But he never asked me if it was okay. After two laps around town I can no longer keep my eyes open. I'm nodding off. This is a car that is so loud that you can't hold a conversation in it and I'm falling asleep. We finally get back to the house and now I can't walk and can't go up steps. I beach myself on the couch and wait for the sugar to run out so I can sleep for reals. I'm up until 4am. Birds are singing when I finally hit the sack.
Today I'm miserable. I can't move again. My arms and legs feel like they are filled with lead and I can't move them. He wants me to sort coins but it is too much effort. He wants me to clean my stuff of the coffee table. I do it but it is a Herculean effort. I try to make pesto but I can't find the parts to the food processor. It tires me out completely just looking in one cabinet and a drawer and I have to go lie down. Now I'm getting irritated. I can't even make god damn pesto. Oil, basil, nuts, garlic and Parmesan. I want to yell and throw things. Someone moved the oil I just put out. No one wants to help find the lid so the processor works. Hubby looks around and gives up. I'm so damn frustrated and tired at this point I just lie down on the couch and leave him to it. My son comes home and walks into the middle of this. He starts looking. Hubby is trying to rig the processor so that it will work without the lid instead of looking for the lid which has to be in a cabinet since he put it away!! I'm just getting more ticked off. I have such a short fuse when I'm this tired. I feel like no one appreciates the huge effort it takes me to do the simplest tasks when I'm this tired. My son finds the lid and I rise from the couch to make the pesto. I don't have enough basil, the Parmesan falls out the tub in a big clump so there is too much cheese in the processor. If I was well I would fish some of it out but now I'm too tired to care. I blend the stuff together. It is the wrong color. I've added too much oil. The ingredients are way out of balance. Too much oil, too much cheese, not enough basil. Eh, I'll just use it as a marinade for the chicken and not put it on the table for a sauce like I normally do. I drop the mess in a sieve to get some of the oil to drain off but it has done some weird chemical bindy thing and turned into a huge yellowish oil chunk with green flecks in it. Totally unappetising. Dinner comes out okay. My son made risotto to go with the grilled pesto chicken.
After dinner I sit out on the deck by myself. I'm miserable. I'm short tempered. I'm tired. I'm hot. I feel like crap. I have no energy. I'm berating myself for doing too much yesterday and setting myself back so badly. I start crying. I wish my husband would come and sit with me so we could talk. I wish he would come and comfort me. I wish he would hold me and tell me that this will pass. Instead I cry by myself. I am so angry!
I go inside and he is playing video games with my son. I settle down for a night in front of the tube. First a movie, then a stand up comedian, then a few episodes of X-Files. Now I'm depressed. It is hot and humid out and this combined with the CFS makes me suffer horribly. My body can't handle the heat and humidity. I feel even crappier than I did. My energy has returned a little so I'm sitting up instead of lying down like earlier.
Then the best part of my day happens: hubby comes in on his way to bed and asks me if this is what our marriage is going to be like from now on. He isn't having any fun. He doesn't want to sit and watch TV all day with me (I've never asked or expected this). I say he could have come out on the deck with me and he says there are too many mosquitoes. I tell him that I meant hours ago when I was out there after dinner. He counters that he wants to be able to do fun stuff. I ask him what and he says travel, bungee jump, fun stuff. Of course we didn't do any of that before I got sick and I would never ever bungee jump. We never traveled anywhere cuz he was too damn cheap. All I heard about was how expensive it is to rent a room, eat out, take a taxi.... Even if we had a fun trip he was always trying to do things on the cheap.
So I cried some more. I still feel crappy. My stomach is upset even though I took Prilosec earlier. I'm hot and miserable. I swing between being angry at myself, angry at him, angry at CFS and being depressed. So much for getting a hug. This sucks. All I want to do is cry.
The day had gone pretty well so far. But hubby decided that he wanted to cruse around town with me in the loud car. Not what I wanted to do. Not in that car. I don't do well in that car. But he never asked me if it was okay. After two laps around town I can no longer keep my eyes open. I'm nodding off. This is a car that is so loud that you can't hold a conversation in it and I'm falling asleep. We finally get back to the house and now I can't walk and can't go up steps. I beach myself on the couch and wait for the sugar to run out so I can sleep for reals. I'm up until 4am. Birds are singing when I finally hit the sack.
Today I'm miserable. I can't move again. My arms and legs feel like they are filled with lead and I can't move them. He wants me to sort coins but it is too much effort. He wants me to clean my stuff of the coffee table. I do it but it is a Herculean effort. I try to make pesto but I can't find the parts to the food processor. It tires me out completely just looking in one cabinet and a drawer and I have to go lie down. Now I'm getting irritated. I can't even make god damn pesto. Oil, basil, nuts, garlic and Parmesan. I want to yell and throw things. Someone moved the oil I just put out. No one wants to help find the lid so the processor works. Hubby looks around and gives up. I'm so damn frustrated and tired at this point I just lie down on the couch and leave him to it. My son comes home and walks into the middle of this. He starts looking. Hubby is trying to rig the processor so that it will work without the lid instead of looking for the lid which has to be in a cabinet since he put it away!! I'm just getting more ticked off. I have such a short fuse when I'm this tired. I feel like no one appreciates the huge effort it takes me to do the simplest tasks when I'm this tired. My son finds the lid and I rise from the couch to make the pesto. I don't have enough basil, the Parmesan falls out the tub in a big clump so there is too much cheese in the processor. If I was well I would fish some of it out but now I'm too tired to care. I blend the stuff together. It is the wrong color. I've added too much oil. The ingredients are way out of balance. Too much oil, too much cheese, not enough basil. Eh, I'll just use it as a marinade for the chicken and not put it on the table for a sauce like I normally do. I drop the mess in a sieve to get some of the oil to drain off but it has done some weird chemical bindy thing and turned into a huge yellowish oil chunk with green flecks in it. Totally unappetising. Dinner comes out okay. My son made risotto to go with the grilled pesto chicken.
After dinner I sit out on the deck by myself. I'm miserable. I'm short tempered. I'm tired. I'm hot. I feel like crap. I have no energy. I'm berating myself for doing too much yesterday and setting myself back so badly. I start crying. I wish my husband would come and sit with me so we could talk. I wish he would come and comfort me. I wish he would hold me and tell me that this will pass. Instead I cry by myself. I am so angry!
I go inside and he is playing video games with my son. I settle down for a night in front of the tube. First a movie, then a stand up comedian, then a few episodes of X-Files. Now I'm depressed. It is hot and humid out and this combined with the CFS makes me suffer horribly. My body can't handle the heat and humidity. I feel even crappier than I did. My energy has returned a little so I'm sitting up instead of lying down like earlier.
Then the best part of my day happens: hubby comes in on his way to bed and asks me if this is what our marriage is going to be like from now on. He isn't having any fun. He doesn't want to sit and watch TV all day with me (I've never asked or expected this). I say he could have come out on the deck with me and he says there are too many mosquitoes. I tell him that I meant hours ago when I was out there after dinner. He counters that he wants to be able to do fun stuff. I ask him what and he says travel, bungee jump, fun stuff. Of course we didn't do any of that before I got sick and I would never ever bungee jump. We never traveled anywhere cuz he was too damn cheap. All I heard about was how expensive it is to rent a room, eat out, take a taxi.... Even if we had a fun trip he was always trying to do things on the cheap.
So I cried some more. I still feel crappy. My stomach is upset even though I took Prilosec earlier. I'm hot and miserable. I swing between being angry at myself, angry at him, angry at CFS and being depressed. So much for getting a hug. This sucks. All I want to do is cry.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Depression and CFS
I got into a discussion with my shrink with regards to depression. I flat out asked her if, in her professional opinion, I was depressed (I know I'm having issues trusting my own inner voice but that is for another post). She told me that from her viewpoint the symptoms of CFS and depression overlap too much for her to make an accurate diagnosis. In her eyes I have a lot of the symptoms for depression.
Anyway, we got into the semantics of tiredness vs lack of energy. I told her that in my experience so far I spend most of the day not tired. I just can't do anything. I don't have the energy to move my muscles or body around but I'm not tired and don't wish to go to bed. I don't do the things I enjoy because I can't not because I've lost interest. I still love watching movies, reading books and surfing the net. I'm also still interested in skating and even got a subscription to icenetwork. I would love to socialize but I've missed several events because I've been crashed the day of or it is at the wrong time of day for me. It isn't like I'm hiding in my house as a choice. I'm stuck here because if I go out I end up in bed for days recovering.
I'm also not upset most days. I have the occasional blue mood but I never can tell if that is mental or some weird chemical reaction since my body chemistry is so out of whack. It won't be the first time I have a couple of depressed days right before my period starts (turns out it is due to low vit B levels). This has plagued me for years long before I came down with CFS. I was even on B6 for a while to help with this and of course the B vitamins are typically low in CFS patients so why wouldn't my mood be a body chemistry thing and not a brain chemistry thing? The CDC even warns against antidepressant use for CFS patients due to side effects that often make the CFS worse than it already is.
I keep telling my doc that I'm in a foul mood because I'm in pain. The pain keeps me up at night so I'm extra tired as well as having no energy. I have always been grouchy when I'm tired. So in my humble non medical doctor opinion I'm in a bad mood because of pain not because of depression. Give me some pain meds and I'm betting I'll be in a much better mood.
So how can CFS and depression be differentiated? I'm not sure I have a good answer for this. To my mind I am fine most of the time with some occassional bad days thrown in, which I can fully understand since this is a thoroughly horrible illness. However, I now have my doc, a cognitive psych person and my own shrink telling me that I must be depressed to some degree. I don't have a good argument against this other than telling them "No. I'm not depressed". At that, my shrink started asking me what my resistance is to the diagnosis. Talk about a catch 22. I recognize this as some sort of logical trap but I can't remember the origination.
I don't want to cave on this one. I'm in a happy mood today now that my shoulder pain has subsided. I can even use my arm again. I am not depressed, damn it!! I just can't seem to find the words to convince the docs. I feel like the uppity women who used to get locked up in the asylums when they didn't behave in a way that was socially acceptable but were told they had mental illness. Why are these people so hell bent on slapping this label on me?
On another note, when I read through the CDC entry on depression it said that the diagnosis depends upon the patient's self reported symptoms. What irony!! My LTD won't take my word for it that I have CFS but they will if I have a diagnosis for depression even though they are both self reported. WTF?!?
And in case you are wondering, according to the CDC website on CFS "Research shows that CFS is not a form of psychiatric illness or depression. "
BTW, I just found the Beck Depression Survey which is a self assessment tool and guess what? I'm not depressed!! I'll print this out and take it to my shrink next week. Put that in your Freudian cigar and smoke it!
Anyway, we got into the semantics of tiredness vs lack of energy. I told her that in my experience so far I spend most of the day not tired. I just can't do anything. I don't have the energy to move my muscles or body around but I'm not tired and don't wish to go to bed. I don't do the things I enjoy because I can't not because I've lost interest. I still love watching movies, reading books and surfing the net. I'm also still interested in skating and even got a subscription to icenetwork. I would love to socialize but I've missed several events because I've been crashed the day of or it is at the wrong time of day for me. It isn't like I'm hiding in my house as a choice. I'm stuck here because if I go out I end up in bed for days recovering.
I'm also not upset most days. I have the occasional blue mood but I never can tell if that is mental or some weird chemical reaction since my body chemistry is so out of whack. It won't be the first time I have a couple of depressed days right before my period starts (turns out it is due to low vit B levels). This has plagued me for years long before I came down with CFS. I was even on B6 for a while to help with this and of course the B vitamins are typically low in CFS patients so why wouldn't my mood be a body chemistry thing and not a brain chemistry thing? The CDC even warns against antidepressant use for CFS patients due to side effects that often make the CFS worse than it already is.
I keep telling my doc that I'm in a foul mood because I'm in pain. The pain keeps me up at night so I'm extra tired as well as having no energy. I have always been grouchy when I'm tired. So in my humble non medical doctor opinion I'm in a bad mood because of pain not because of depression. Give me some pain meds and I'm betting I'll be in a much better mood.
So how can CFS and depression be differentiated? I'm not sure I have a good answer for this. To my mind I am fine most of the time with some occassional bad days thrown in, which I can fully understand since this is a thoroughly horrible illness. However, I now have my doc, a cognitive psych person and my own shrink telling me that I must be depressed to some degree. I don't have a good argument against this other than telling them "No. I'm not depressed". At that, my shrink started asking me what my resistance is to the diagnosis. Talk about a catch 22. I recognize this as some sort of logical trap but I can't remember the origination.
I don't want to cave on this one. I'm in a happy mood today now that my shoulder pain has subsided. I can even use my arm again. I am not depressed, damn it!! I just can't seem to find the words to convince the docs. I feel like the uppity women who used to get locked up in the asylums when they didn't behave in a way that was socially acceptable but were told they had mental illness. Why are these people so hell bent on slapping this label on me?
On another note, when I read through the CDC entry on depression it said that the diagnosis depends upon the patient's self reported symptoms. What irony!! My LTD won't take my word for it that I have CFS but they will if I have a diagnosis for depression even though they are both self reported. WTF?!?
And in case you are wondering, according to the CDC website on CFS "Research shows that CFS is not a form of psychiatric illness or depression. "
BTW, I just found the Beck Depression Survey which is a self assessment tool and guess what? I'm not depressed!! I'll print this out and take it to my shrink next week. Put that in your Freudian cigar and smoke it!
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Mental Puzzles
As I alluded to in earlier posts I had a physical and mental set back last week. I'm doing much better now but am left with a puzzle: was I actually depressed or was it due to a vitamin B6 deficit?
I had a great week three weeks ago. I had lots of energy, managed to clean my house a little, cook a few dinners and even attend a wedding. I was starting to make plans. Maybe I would get to go skating! Maybe I would be able to have company over! Maybe I would be able to start exercising! Oh the joy!!
When my husband threw a ginormous hissy fit while I was doing so well, he upset the proverbial apple cart and I very quickly spiraled downwards. But instead of leveling out at my "normal" bad day, I kept going down and spent several days moping around the bottom of the depression well. After agreeing with my chiropractor and doctor that I needed to start seeing someone for therapy, on some whim I decided to take my vitamins.
Now I hate taking pills so I had stopped taking them. My chiropractor put me on a regime that is used for FM and since we both believe FM is just the other end of the pain scale of CFS maybe the same regimen would work for me. This means I have to take 16 pills a day plus a liquid multivit. Did I mention I hate taking pills?? I tried it for a few weeks and didn't think it was doing any good plus I had a sore throat flare so I stopped and never started up again.
For some reason (sometimes my intuition saves my butt) I started taking some of them again. This included a huge dose of B6. I did this two days in a row. Now I feel normal again. Well, CFS normal. The depression is gone as if I never had it.
I learned about B6 many years ago from my old shrink. We noticed that I had a bad depressive swing the day before I got my period. She told me to take 50mg of B6 to help regulate my hormonal system and it worked! I was shocked. No more crying, weeping and beating myself up the day before my period! This is awesome! Of course, NIH doesn't believe me and says that a sugar pill would have the same effect and as much as I love Ben & Jerry's, ice cream doesn't quite do the trick. Trust me I've tried.
Now I know the little buggers that have taken over my body are experimenting with my systems: there are huge problems with my power distribution grid, heat and vent sporadically goes on the fritz, and someone keeps leaving the lights on making it hard to sleep. So why wouldn't they be dicking around with my hormonal system??
I am guessing that it was some combination of too much excitement, husband's hissy fit, actual depressive episode and a hormonal system hiccup that caused the physical and mental crash. I got over the physical part by spending the last week and a half either in bed or on the couch. The mental recovery was some combination of crying a lot, letting myself feel bad (yes that is actually good for you), getting angry at CFS and all the s*&^ that it has caused, fessing up to two of my doctors that I needed help, and my old friend B6.
More info on B6:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vitamin_B6
http://ods.od.nih.gov/factsheets/vitaminb6.asp
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/349077.stm
WARNING: taking too much B6 will lead to toxicity and potential nerve problems (see above NIH link). The daily upper limit is 100mg/day. I never take more than 50mg/day and I only do this sporadically. My normal dose is 25mg/day. The RDA is 1.3mg/day for women 19-50 yrs old.
I had a great week three weeks ago. I had lots of energy, managed to clean my house a little, cook a few dinners and even attend a wedding. I was starting to make plans. Maybe I would get to go skating! Maybe I would be able to have company over! Maybe I would be able to start exercising! Oh the joy!!
When my husband threw a ginormous hissy fit while I was doing so well, he upset the proverbial apple cart and I very quickly spiraled downwards. But instead of leveling out at my "normal" bad day, I kept going down and spent several days moping around the bottom of the depression well. After agreeing with my chiropractor and doctor that I needed to start seeing someone for therapy, on some whim I decided to take my vitamins.
Now I hate taking pills so I had stopped taking them. My chiropractor put me on a regime that is used for FM and since we both believe FM is just the other end of the pain scale of CFS maybe the same regimen would work for me. This means I have to take 16 pills a day plus a liquid multivit. Did I mention I hate taking pills?? I tried it for a few weeks and didn't think it was doing any good plus I had a sore throat flare so I stopped and never started up again.
For some reason (sometimes my intuition saves my butt) I started taking some of them again. This included a huge dose of B6. I did this two days in a row. Now I feel normal again. Well, CFS normal. The depression is gone as if I never had it.
I learned about B6 many years ago from my old shrink. We noticed that I had a bad depressive swing the day before I got my period. She told me to take 50mg of B6 to help regulate my hormonal system and it worked! I was shocked. No more crying, weeping and beating myself up the day before my period! This is awesome! Of course, NIH doesn't believe me and says that a sugar pill would have the same effect and as much as I love Ben & Jerry's, ice cream doesn't quite do the trick. Trust me I've tried.
Now I know the little buggers that have taken over my body are experimenting with my systems: there are huge problems with my power distribution grid, heat and vent sporadically goes on the fritz, and someone keeps leaving the lights on making it hard to sleep. So why wouldn't they be dicking around with my hormonal system??
I am guessing that it was some combination of too much excitement, husband's hissy fit, actual depressive episode and a hormonal system hiccup that caused the physical and mental crash. I got over the physical part by spending the last week and a half either in bed or on the couch. The mental recovery was some combination of crying a lot, letting myself feel bad (yes that is actually good for you), getting angry at CFS and all the s*&^ that it has caused, fessing up to two of my doctors that I needed help, and my old friend B6.
More info on B6:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vitamin_B6
http://ods.od.nih.gov/factsheets/vitaminb6.asp
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/349077.stm
WARNING: taking too much B6 will lead to toxicity and potential nerve problems (see above NIH link). The daily upper limit is 100mg/day. I never take more than 50mg/day and I only do this sporadically. My normal dose is 25mg/day. The RDA is 1.3mg/day for women 19-50 yrs old.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Cool Stuff from the Blogsphere
Just found this blogger today. I love her description of chronic illness and can totally relate:
http://dearthyroid.org/chronic-snarkopolist-the-tidal-wave/
I also adore the 50's style pictures on the site. Since this is a multi blogger site if you click on her name you can get a list of her other posts. I've got a lot of reading to do :-)
Here is some great info on drug therapies, flu shots and XMRV tests from Sue over at Learning to Live with CFS:
http://livewithcfs.blogspot.com/2010/09/visit-with-infectious-disease-doctor.html
And this from Phoenix Rising:
http://www.forums.aboutmecfs.org/content.php?233-Chronic-Fatigue-Sydrome-10-Things-People-Misunderstand-About-This-quot-Fatigue-quot
http://dearthyroid.org/chronic-snarkopolist-the-tidal-wave/
I also adore the 50's style pictures on the site. Since this is a multi blogger site if you click on her name you can get a list of her other posts. I've got a lot of reading to do :-)
Here is some great info on drug therapies, flu shots and XMRV tests from Sue over at Learning to Live with CFS:
http://livewithcfs.blogspot.com/2010/09/visit-with-infectious-disease-doctor.html
And this from Phoenix Rising:
http://www.forums.aboutmecfs.org/content.php?233-Chronic-Fatigue-Sydrome-10-Things-People-Misunderstand-About-This-quot-Fatigue-quot
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Slipping and Sliding
I knew it would only be a matter of time; depression is slowly setting in. I did awesome for so long considering my history of depression. Things are weird for me. My husband isn't coping with the changes in the house or me very well. He hates having to take care of dinner and virtually throws a daily hissy fit when he has to deal with it. Now that I've crashed for the last week from a combination of regular illness fatigue and depression fatigue I haven't been able to cook at all. I don't think I've cooked for ten days now and we've been on a steady diet of take out. Hubby doesn't cook. I'm beginning to think I need to teach the kid. He is certainly old enough to learn.
The battle against the depression this time has been odd. This is the first time I've had an excellent acupuncturist taking care of me during a depressive bout. We haven't quite figured out the protocol (number of needles where thing) yet. The first session worked well and my good mood lasted several days. The second session he pushed it and put in lots of needles to the point I was nauseous and he had to take some out. The result was just short of a manic episode. I felt great and stayed up all night. Then when I finally came down I slept for 12 hours and then couldn't get off the couch for an additional 9 hours. I eventually managed to get up and around and the depression crept back in. I just finished session 3. I've got a slight headache and it is 2am and I'm still up. I'm feeling tired though which is a good sign. I might get a decent nights sleep. He didn't use nearly as many needles this time. I'm hoping for a good couple of days ahead.
I see my regular doc tomorrow for my monthly check in. We'll see what he says about things. I wouldn't be surprised if I end up in talk therapy again. Since I am in totally new territory I'm not adverse to the idea.
The battle against the depression this time has been odd. This is the first time I've had an excellent acupuncturist taking care of me during a depressive bout. We haven't quite figured out the protocol (number of needles where thing) yet. The first session worked well and my good mood lasted several days. The second session he pushed it and put in lots of needles to the point I was nauseous and he had to take some out. The result was just short of a manic episode. I felt great and stayed up all night. Then when I finally came down I slept for 12 hours and then couldn't get off the couch for an additional 9 hours. I eventually managed to get up and around and the depression crept back in. I just finished session 3. I've got a slight headache and it is 2am and I'm still up. I'm feeling tired though which is a good sign. I might get a decent nights sleep. He didn't use nearly as many needles this time. I'm hoping for a good couple of days ahead.
I see my regular doc tomorrow for my monthly check in. We'll see what he says about things. I wouldn't be surprised if I end up in talk therapy again. Since I am in totally new territory I'm not adverse to the idea.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Who Turned Out the Lights?: Blog Carnival #2
Just wanted to let everyone know that September is also Suicide Prevention month. I wrote The Long and Winding Road for a blog carnival at Graceful Agony. The carnival was posted today so if you are interested in reading others' journeys with depression please head over to her blog.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
The Long and Winding Road
I warn you. This is going to be a long post. I am also nervous about this. This will be the first time discussing my depression in public. Not even some members of my family know that I've been battling this on and off most of my life and none of them know the gory details.
Why is this? I am old enough (almost 50) to remember when dealing with mental illness wasn't cool. You were frowned down upon, less than, defective, irreparable. Of course this was prior to the politically correct age and the plethora of antidepressants that are available now. Back then depression was seen as a personal defect that you should be able to pull out of if you just put some effort into it. If you couldn't you should be locked up. They didn't yet know that it was due to a chemical imbalance in the brain.
My lack of forthcoming is also a result of being English. My Mum was raised by a Victorian era grandma. You don't talk about it: keep a stiff upper lip: get on with it, kind of people. This was passed on to me. Unfortunately there seems to be a genetic predisposition to depression that runs in my family. I've seen evidence of it in my Mom (sorry to out you), me, my sister and even my son. I don't know about my other sibling. We aren't close enough with each other to discuss such things. It's just not the done thing.
So when did this family secret first raise its ugly head? I was actually a very happy kid. I even adjusted well when my family emigrated to the US from England in 1968. However, when puberty hit so did the depression. It was like a switch being thrown. Apparently when my brain got rewired it had a few bad spots woven in. (MRIs show that the adolescent brain is physically rewired during puberty. The prefrontal cortex catching the brunt of this reconstruction. It also explains why teenagers do the weirdest stuff.) I had my first bout with clinical depression somewhere around the age of 14. I really should have seen someone since I was borderline suicidal at the time but back then depression was kept hidden. I managed to pull out of this myself by deciding one day that I didn't want to live like that anymore. I started to do things just to get me out of the house. Stupid things like going to the grocery store; being English we used to shop every day. But it worked to a degree. I became functional again and was no longer suicidal.
Since that first bout of depression I was what used to be called melancholy, a low grade depression. I was angry all the time. I had obsessive thought patterns. I was sullen and quiet. I made few friends and kept to myself. My bouts with full blown clinical depression seem to occur at major changes in my life, getting married, moving across state,going away to college, coming home from college, becoming a mom, etc.
The bouts I had around college were mostly ignored. I did try several different talk groups on campus none of which were helpful. I healed more by leaving behind my dysfunctional group of "friends" and joining a new group of highly functional friends in a new dorm. These are people I am still friends with today. I haven't heard anything from anyone in the dysfunctional group.
The bout of depression I had after I got married was the first successful professional treatment and the most successful drug treatment I had. I did a round of talk therapy with an excellent councilor who put me on Prozac which I did very well on.
The next bout I had occurred after I moved across the state. That one wasn't dealt with very well. I had a different therapist who wasn't very good at talk therapy and they never gave me Prozac. Again I pulled myself out of it enough to function normally again and the HMO I was in declared I was "cured".
The bout I had after my son was born had to be dealt with through talk therapy since I was nursing at the time. I didn't make the adjustment to motherhood easily and I still get pangs of jealousy when I hear about parents swooning over their new baby. I hated being a new mother. This time I had a very good therapist and we decided together not to pursue drugs.
Then, in 2001, my world fell apart. I had a HUGE problem with my marriage, I became the target of sex discrimination at work, there was a major fall out in my husband's family and a minor rift formed in my own family. If I had to deal with any single event I might have been okay but this was the perfect storm. Every support system that I had failed within months of each other and I fell to pieces. I still had my great therapist but she couldn't prescribe drugs so she sent me to a psychiatrist and the medication nightmare began. He must have been on the receiving end of kickbacks from the drug companies. I told him I did well on Prozac but he insisted on trying me on the new meds first. I was too messed up at the time to refuse. I cycled though each new drug having one adverse reaction after another; thoughts of suicide, loosing time, no muscle strength, staring off into space for hours, hearing voices, thoughts of killing others. After a half dozen different drugs I said enough. I was done. I didn't care if I was depressed it was better than being parked on my deck wrapped in a blanket for hours on end while I drifted off to nowhere. I spent the next several years in talk therapy. My husband and I patched things up. My work situation changed and I slowly became functional again.
Now, between my terrific husband and wonderful therapist I managed to get out of my chronic melancholy and perpetual anger but I still suffered from obsessive thoughts. My real breakthrough came when I started practicing Buddhism with a nun. I learned meditation. I learned Buddhist philosophy. I attended weekly classes and special seminars. I participated in a healing ceremony and became part of the tiny Buddhist community in my town. All in all I did a steady practice for about three years. During this time my thought patterns changed. My obsessive thoughts stopped. The melancholy went away completely and I was happy most of the time. During this period my therapist and I decided that I no longer needed her services and I haven't gone back since. There is now MRI evidence that the brain gets rewired in a person that practices meditation. There are several studies that have been done on Buddhist monks specifically. Luckily the Dali Lama is very curious about science and has volunteered his monks for all sorts of brain studies. I don't know if the results are the same with people who practice other forms of meditation or prayer but I suspect that there are detectable changes in brain wiring.
Now I am facing another major change in my life and I am on the lookout for the symptoms of depression. Both my husband and I know that it often shows up in chronically ill people. It makes sense. Your life has totally changed. You can't be the person you were. You have to reinvent yourself. At least now I know what to look for and I know enough to call my cool therapist as soon as I start to get into trouble. But so far I doing fine considering. I'm five months into my illness and I'm generally still pretty happy. I get cranky on bad days but I figure hey I'm allowed. I've been reading about treating serious illness as the "dark night of the soul" and using the illness as a soul journey. I enjoy putting a philosophical framework around my illness. I have been toying with various definitions of success and happiness. I have been thinking about the cultural norms that are imposed on us and the roles society imposes on us that we willingly take on. What will I become as a result of this illness? Who will I be? Instead of dreading this trip into the abyss I see it as an adventure. But I still have my spyglass in hand scanning the horizon for any warning signs of that ugly monster. So far so good. Maybe I should put my therapist's number on speed dial just in case.
Some older musings on the chronic life:
My Labels Have All Fallen Off
Why Am I Not Angry?
Secret Worlds
Why is this? I am old enough (almost 50) to remember when dealing with mental illness wasn't cool. You were frowned down upon, less than, defective, irreparable. Of course this was prior to the politically correct age and the plethora of antidepressants that are available now. Back then depression was seen as a personal defect that you should be able to pull out of if you just put some effort into it. If you couldn't you should be locked up. They didn't yet know that it was due to a chemical imbalance in the brain.
My lack of forthcoming is also a result of being English. My Mum was raised by a Victorian era grandma. You don't talk about it: keep a stiff upper lip: get on with it, kind of people. This was passed on to me. Unfortunately there seems to be a genetic predisposition to depression that runs in my family. I've seen evidence of it in my Mom (sorry to out you), me, my sister and even my son. I don't know about my other sibling. We aren't close enough with each other to discuss such things. It's just not the done thing.
So when did this family secret first raise its ugly head? I was actually a very happy kid. I even adjusted well when my family emigrated to the US from England in 1968. However, when puberty hit so did the depression. It was like a switch being thrown. Apparently when my brain got rewired it had a few bad spots woven in. (MRIs show that the adolescent brain is physically rewired during puberty. The prefrontal cortex catching the brunt of this reconstruction. It also explains why teenagers do the weirdest stuff.) I had my first bout with clinical depression somewhere around the age of 14. I really should have seen someone since I was borderline suicidal at the time but back then depression was kept hidden. I managed to pull out of this myself by deciding one day that I didn't want to live like that anymore. I started to do things just to get me out of the house. Stupid things like going to the grocery store; being English we used to shop every day. But it worked to a degree. I became functional again and was no longer suicidal.
Since that first bout of depression I was what used to be called melancholy, a low grade depression. I was angry all the time. I had obsessive thought patterns. I was sullen and quiet. I made few friends and kept to myself. My bouts with full blown clinical depression seem to occur at major changes in my life, getting married, moving across state,going away to college, coming home from college, becoming a mom, etc.
The bouts I had around college were mostly ignored. I did try several different talk groups on campus none of which were helpful. I healed more by leaving behind my dysfunctional group of "friends" and joining a new group of highly functional friends in a new dorm. These are people I am still friends with today. I haven't heard anything from anyone in the dysfunctional group.
The bout of depression I had after I got married was the first successful professional treatment and the most successful drug treatment I had. I did a round of talk therapy with an excellent councilor who put me on Prozac which I did very well on.
The next bout I had occurred after I moved across the state. That one wasn't dealt with very well. I had a different therapist who wasn't very good at talk therapy and they never gave me Prozac. Again I pulled myself out of it enough to function normally again and the HMO I was in declared I was "cured".
The bout I had after my son was born had to be dealt with through talk therapy since I was nursing at the time. I didn't make the adjustment to motherhood easily and I still get pangs of jealousy when I hear about parents swooning over their new baby. I hated being a new mother. This time I had a very good therapist and we decided together not to pursue drugs.
Then, in 2001, my world fell apart. I had a HUGE problem with my marriage, I became the target of sex discrimination at work, there was a major fall out in my husband's family and a minor rift formed in my own family. If I had to deal with any single event I might have been okay but this was the perfect storm. Every support system that I had failed within months of each other and I fell to pieces. I still had my great therapist but she couldn't prescribe drugs so she sent me to a psychiatrist and the medication nightmare began. He must have been on the receiving end of kickbacks from the drug companies. I told him I did well on Prozac but he insisted on trying me on the new meds first. I was too messed up at the time to refuse. I cycled though each new drug having one adverse reaction after another; thoughts of suicide, loosing time, no muscle strength, staring off into space for hours, hearing voices, thoughts of killing others. After a half dozen different drugs I said enough. I was done. I didn't care if I was depressed it was better than being parked on my deck wrapped in a blanket for hours on end while I drifted off to nowhere. I spent the next several years in talk therapy. My husband and I patched things up. My work situation changed and I slowly became functional again.
Now, between my terrific husband and wonderful therapist I managed to get out of my chronic melancholy and perpetual anger but I still suffered from obsessive thoughts. My real breakthrough came when I started practicing Buddhism with a nun. I learned meditation. I learned Buddhist philosophy. I attended weekly classes and special seminars. I participated in a healing ceremony and became part of the tiny Buddhist community in my town. All in all I did a steady practice for about three years. During this time my thought patterns changed. My obsessive thoughts stopped. The melancholy went away completely and I was happy most of the time. During this period my therapist and I decided that I no longer needed her services and I haven't gone back since. There is now MRI evidence that the brain gets rewired in a person that practices meditation. There are several studies that have been done on Buddhist monks specifically. Luckily the Dali Lama is very curious about science and has volunteered his monks for all sorts of brain studies. I don't know if the results are the same with people who practice other forms of meditation or prayer but I suspect that there are detectable changes in brain wiring.
Now I am facing another major change in my life and I am on the lookout for the symptoms of depression. Both my husband and I know that it often shows up in chronically ill people. It makes sense. Your life has totally changed. You can't be the person you were. You have to reinvent yourself. At least now I know what to look for and I know enough to call my cool therapist as soon as I start to get into trouble. But so far I doing fine considering. I'm five months into my illness and I'm generally still pretty happy. I get cranky on bad days but I figure hey I'm allowed. I've been reading about treating serious illness as the "dark night of the soul" and using the illness as a soul journey. I enjoy putting a philosophical framework around my illness. I have been toying with various definitions of success and happiness. I have been thinking about the cultural norms that are imposed on us and the roles society imposes on us that we willingly take on. What will I become as a result of this illness? Who will I be? Instead of dreading this trip into the abyss I see it as an adventure. But I still have my spyglass in hand scanning the horizon for any warning signs of that ugly monster. So far so good. Maybe I should put my therapist's number on speed dial just in case.
Some older musings on the chronic life:
My Labels Have All Fallen Off
Why Am I Not Angry?
Secret Worlds
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