depression, emotions

Pain365

Last week was rough for me physically. As I try to wrap my brain around the arthritis eating away at my body, I learn new things every single day. Last week, I found a new kind of pain.. When I would stand up, it would feel like someone hit me with a stun gun in the lower back. The pain would ricochet down one of my legs. Luckily, the pain did not travel up and rarely shot down both legs. Don’t you love discovering new things?

I spent pretty much every minute of every day relying on my cane to keep me upright. I often had to stop moving long enough for the pain to stop. But, you know me. I don’t like to let people know that I am struggling. I don’t want people to know that I am in pain. So I put a smile on my face and convince everyone that the sky is blue and the sun is shining down.

I joined a new work group last autumn. The wastewater engineering group needed more support and the company is trying to hold off on hiring people. Therefore, I was transferred over. As you know, engineers are not really known for being the most socially comfortable people. (I joke!). Last Wednesday, I had an in-person meeting with my work group. After the meeting, one of the engineers mentioned that I looked like I was in a lot of pain. (I mean, it could not have been more obvious, lol). I said I was and laughed. The engineer asked me how I was capable of smiling and acting happy when I am in such pain. And that is an answer that few will understand.

I have a lifetime of experience hiding pain. Whether the pain is mental or physical does not matter. I learned at an early age not to complain. I was taught that sharing your struggles and your pain puts other people in uncomfortable positions and causes them undue stress. So, I hide it as best I can. Unfortunately, I have periods like last week where I could not hide the actual signs of pain, but I could put on a smile and bring snacks for everyone to enjoy.

anxiety, depression

Battles

I have battles going on in my mind and body. Today I want to talk about the one affecting me the most. I have arthritis in my hips. One of the best ways to treat this is to become more active and lose weight. That might be fine and dandy for most people, but my depression doesn’t like to be active. My depression wants me in bed or on the couch. Out of the sun. 

A great way to help reduce the depression in my head is to get outside in the sun. Be active. Be engaging. But the arthritis in my feet and hips makes that more difficult. 

Now for the fun part. There is a liquid that I can consume to help reduce the depression and the pain from the arthritis in the short term. But it makes them both worse in the long term. The wonders of alcohol. 

Would this be a catch-22? A catch-33?

depression, emotions

Bridges

Bridges are so ironic. They help to get people from here to there. They cover gaps in pathways. They open up to be more accessible. Bridges are so versatile in their builds.

But bridges also lead to death and destruction. Bridges do no discriminate. Mental health does not discriminate. When you jump off that bridge, the landing spot will not discriminate.

#hashtag #darkturn

How are we supposed to know when our friends or family are suicidal? Do they have a meter on their forehead that shows the level of shit they can no longer deal with? Do they start acting like the world is full of crap and nothing matters? Or do they just welcome what the bridge can bring them?

Suicide is a scary thought for those with normal brains. For others, it’s like breathing. It just happens on a regular basis. I do not really know what people expect from suicidal people though. Do you think they will hop on Facebook and say “Hey! Sunday Fun Day! I am going to jump off the bridge this afternoon, but does anyone want to grab brunch first?”

Death is bitch this way. Depression is a bitch this way. Life is a bitch this way.

#CheckOnYourFriends #MoreOften

*note: I am fine

depression, emotions

PhysicalPsychiatry

I have decided to invent a new type of therapy. Physical Psychiatry. I so often need to curl up in a ball and let the world move around me without me involved. But, what if I could go to a therapist and curl up into a physical ball and they massage my head and neck. And then they ease all of the muscles that are tightened up while telling me that I matter and I am a good person that adds to the best of humanity.

I need a therapist to acknowledge what I am going through as well as what I went through. But this is both a mental and physical issue. I am happy that someone solved my brain issues for a hot minute or my knots for a bit.

And hear me out here. What if someone could work the physical stress along with the mental stress? I need a therapist that can be the big spoon to my cuddles while dealing with my mental issues. Treat my mental and physical depression.

anxiety, depression, emotions

Fault

Yes. It’s my fault.

Does that give you cover? Does your conscience feel better? Are your loved ones relieved?

It is absolutely my fault that you did that shot. It is my fault that you had another drink, that, let’s be honest, you probably didn’t need. It’s my fault that you stayed out past 8pm. That wine tasting? Yep. My fault.

For most of my life, my name has been Aleczander Lourd Maverick and I have been the cause of your fun, your happiness, your regrets, your marital issues, your bathroom experiences. Yes. I am that Aleczander Lourd Maverick.

I am a god of mischief and drinking and sex in the bathroom and lost music and marital disputes and Stephen King. I am. Whatever you need to tell yourself, I am. Just know that as my friend, I support you. I love you. But I am not making your decisions.

My name is Aleczander Lourd Maverick and I approve this message.

depression, emotions

Teeth

I am generally not a vain person. I do not put much stock into what I wear or how my hair looks most of the time. And yet, my teeth have been a defining feature for my entire life.

Growing up, my teeth were bad. They were twisted and turned. They were wild. And because of that, I rarely smiled or laughed without covering my mouth.

Around ten years ago, I used the Invisalign service and straightened my teeth. It was like a new lease on life. I laughed so loud. I smiled so brightly. My mood changed and people noticed.

I am not just here for a history lesson. I am about to go through my terror of bath teeth again. For some ungodly reason, my body is eating one of my teeth. It seems to happen from time to time, like when mammals eat their newborn. And that tooth has to be removed.

So what, you say? Well, I can’t do anything after that tooth is removed for months. Months and months and months. For nearly six months I will have a tooth missing and I will be back in high school being made fun of and tortured. For nearly six months I will be ashamed to smile. I will be less likely to laugh.

I am not ready to go through this journey again.

anxiety, depression

AvP

I really enjoyed the Alien vs Predator movies. I really enjoyed the new Predator movie “Prey” even more. But that is not what this is about. This is about me, obviously. Just in case you forgot.

Anxiety attacks and panic attacks are almost the same thing but they are very different. They have similar symptoms, but you shouldn’t confuse the two afflictions. I could describe the differences between the two, but then I would have to kill you.

(Do I need to add a sarcasm note here?)

I have been suffering from anxiety attacks all week. I don’t know why, so don’t ask what’s wrong. Nothing is wrong other than these stupid anxiety attacks. I used to think the difference between the two was external stimuli versus internal stimuli. Then I thought the difference was the intensity of the symptoms. Now… I have no idea.

So, here is where this non-doctor is going. For me, Panic attacks are short and bitter sweet, typically caused by an incident and soon forgotten. Anxiety attacks are my brain fucking with me from all angles on a slight and subtle level over hours.

I keep trying to figure out what is causing the anxiety attacks because everyone keeps asking me. Like, dude, what happened? (Don’t get me started on the people that confuse being anxious about something and having anxiety).

I don’t know what’s causing my anxiety. Maybe I need new meds. Maybe I need talk therapy again. Maybe I need another shot. Maybe I need to leave this apartment. Maybe I need to have sex with Paul Rudd. Who knows? Do you?

emotions, Motivation

Fantastical

One of the most amazing things about my husband is that he gets caught up and rides the wave of my fantastical thoughts and dreams. I don’t think he believes them any more than I do, but he doesn’t question them. I talk about my newest fantastical dream and he goes along. Like, it could happen.

I talk about moving to a small town to be in the Gilmore Girls world. I talk about moving to Spain to be among the beautiful men. I talk about buying property in Oakland. I talk about so many things. And the love of my life… he just goes along with it. We both know these won’t happen, but he never bursts my bubble. He encourages this.

My newest and most fabulous one? I am going to buy a house in Guerneville while finding a fully 100% telecommuting position. I can be there five to six days a week. We can swap between our apartment and there. I can walk down main street holding his hand without fear. I can be. I can live. So much life with so little outside interference.

I love me more and more as the days go on. My dreams get bigger and better. But one day, these won’t be dreams anymore. They will be. We will be.

depression, emotions

Suicide

Trigger warning: this post will cover suicide and my experience with that. If this is a trigger for you, please do not continue.

Recently, someone I knew took their own life. He wasn’t a close friend by any means. He wasn’t even really a friend. He was someone that I knew in passing. Someone I have had conversations and laughs with. So if we weren’t friends, why I am talking about this? Why is it affecting me so much?

Those questions are not easy to explain to people that do not have MDD. The answer, though, is the same as why Robin Williams death affected me so much. This person seemed to have everything. He was young, very attractive, accomplished in his education, well traveled in the world, and more. And yet, he still felt hopeless enough and low enough to take his own life. If someone with so much fell to lies that Depression tells, what hope do I have in the long-term?

This is one of my very few triggers. Between 16 and 26, I tried to take my life several times. I am glad that I am completely incompetent at that. I damaged my liver and was sick for days, but I survived and I thrived. Eventually. I have a great life. I love my husband. I love my job and career path. I love my friends and those close to me. And yet, in the dark recesses of my brain, the thoughts of suicide are always lurking. Always waiting for me to let my guard down. Fighting Depression is a lifelong war. Losing to Depression is a single moment in time. It only takes a moment.

We don’t talk about suicide in polite societies. Only druggies, drunks, and weak people take their own lives. Right? Right?

anxiety, depression

Burnt

The past week was awful. MaDD (My name for MDD) just about did me in. MaDD attacked my brain like it was double overtime and the plates were loaded. Or some sports metaphor.

I knew instinctively that I would make it through the week, but there were days that my heart gave up and days that my mind gave up. I was tired but I couldn’t sleep. I was stressed. But mostly, MaDD was yelling louder than usual.

That can only mean one thing. I need to consider changing my medications again. That is never a fun process. I never know who I will be once the meds kick in. Each time I get set on a course of meds, my personality changes with it. Why, this one time, let’s just say that I lost a few friends.

And now I’m wondering if MaDD is good name for my MDD. That’s what my brain does when scary thoughts come up, line changing my meds. I get distracted by details.

This last week was darker than I have been through in quite a while. I almost think the old, pre-pandemic me is fighting with the new me and I’m stuck here in the middle.