Coming back to life...

OK...almost a week ago I went to see a new internist.

She. Is. Awesome.

My new doctor must have sat and visited me for at least 30 minutes.  She did not try to analyze my neuropsychoses, she validated my feelings and, despite confessing that she is not a specialist in psychology, started me on a SNRI (selective norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor).  She does want me to see a shrink within the Scott and White system because that is not her area of expertise and she wants to make sure that I am on the correct pharmaceutical regimen.  So...I started on Effexor XR last Tuesday.  Today is Sunday and I feel like I am finally back.  I'm not exactly normal, but it's like I'm trying to rejoin the human race.

Last Friday, John and I had plans to go out to a local bar to see a concert.  We (I) had made similar plans many times during the last six or so months but it was always I who backed out with excuses..."I'm too tired" or "I just don't want to go."  Basically, I had no joy in going out, and those who know me best know that I LOVE to go out to live music events!  It has been so insanely sad to me that I just could not make myself go. So after dressing and primping and getting into the car to head out to my friend Weezy's house, I realized that I was FINALLY doing it!  I was in the car and I was excited to be heading out to a very crowded show!  We met up with our friends, we had a huge time, Cody Johnson was electrifying, his fiddle player, Jody Bartula (who was Joey's fiddle teacher for a few months) rocked it out, and Kyle Park was equally covered in awesomesauce (at least I think he was...I told you we had a lot of fun!! And by fun I mean Tito's and Shiner...and somehow I ended up with a little bit of a black eye, but that's another foggy story).

That of course leads me to Saturday which was a little bit rough but I was still on the happy high of going out and having a blast.  Truly, the end-all hangover from Hell would be a small price to pay for the opportunity to go out and have fun!!  For the last few months I really believed that I would never, ever, have that kind of free-spirited good time again.  Today (Sunday) I was able to accomplish more in the terms of housework and mundane things than I think I have in almost a year.

I'm not saying that I'm entirely out of the dark woods of depression but I am noticing a huge difference.  If there is anyone out there who is feeling like no one will listen and they cannot get help for depression...please, please, please do not give up.  Keep looking for a physician whom will help you!  Do not be afraid of being a "doctor shopper."  Be an advocate for yourself, keep searching for someone who is not afraid to help you and never be afraid of telling the truth.  I have found that sharing the burden of this battle with depression has given confidence.  In no way do I want to become an advocate for depression awareness, but when you are in the midst of a depressive episode, it is the loneliest and darkest place that a person can ever be.  I did not realize this, but my closest friends knew that something was going on with me.  They had a suspicion that I was depressed but they just did not know how to approach me.  I had never talked about this ongoing challenge openly.  I was ashamed, like it was a personal weakness that I should be able to conquer on my own (ugh! Hubris is a horrid character trait).  I have received so much support from my friends and family.  It is truly humbling.  I think that by publicly acknowledging my fight with depression I removed the invisible wall of denial that I have been hiding behind for so many years.  It's out there now...everyone knows...the secret is moot.  

So that is where I'm at.  I love each and every once of my friends and family whom have offered their support over the last week.  I feel like I've turned a major corner in a positive direction.  I'm ready to start living again.

Depression...my unwanted Muse

So...my first true blog post isn't going to be all fun, rainbows and unicorns. It is about my last (and currently ongoing) stumble into clinical depression. Truthfully, I've had all about all I can to hold myself together to keep drawing breath into my lungs, much less go out and catch some live music.  That is what depression does to a body.  It doesn't matter if you have the best fucking life that can ever be imagined by the poorest of the poor...if you are stuck in the black vortex of clinical depression it is as if the salt of the world is drained from your existence and everything...EVERYTHING...exists in various shades of gray.  The sun doesn't shine.  Birds don't sing.  All food tastes exactly the same.  The darkness of night is the blackest of all blacks.  Being awake feels the same as when you are asleep.  You actually feel the world moving past you at a faster speed, almost as if you are trapped in some kind of a parallel universe where the depressed individual (me) is stuck in the bottom of an emotional hole that can't be seen, only experienced, and there is no obvious way to get out.

This is not a new experience for me.  I've battled this for most of my life.  Prior episodes, I would just be able to retreat into myself until this gloom lifted.  recently it has become much harder to do this since I am now an adult, wife, and mother.  This past summer I sought help from my physician.  I asked her if I could try one of the new medications that have had promising results when added to an existing SSRI.  She hemmed and hawed, refused to prescribe the medication for me, and made me go to a psychiatrist.  Now, I went to the shrink...hoping(!!) that maybe my problem really was "in my head" but I found it to be a disappointing experience.  In the four or five appointments (that were all taped...better to be picked apart by psych students in future classes) he had diagnosed my problems as poor self-esteem (no shit?!?!) that stemmed from a volatile relationship with my mother (Really, Einstein?  What a fucking genius.)  And a overwhelming sense of powerlessness and lack of control in my future (Really, dude? You went to college to tell me that?).  He them talked me through these exercises where I was to fantasize about killing my mother (or husband, or child, or whomever he thought may be the source of my poor self-esteem) and then yell at the bodies and tell them how wronged I felt.  Once I did that then I was to "put the bodies back together and bury them in a loving manner"...double-you, tee, eff??  This is supposed to make me feel more powerful and in control?  Are you fucking serious??  All it made me feel was guilty and worse about myself that I could even entertain the thought of hurting the people that I love.  (Now that I think about it, perhaps that is what the head-shrink in Afghanistan told those Marines to visualize pissing on dead Taliban because they were pissed at them for killing their buddies...and so they did, but did it only in real life...hmmmm, interesting.)  Anyhow,  I told the shrink multiple times that I was not comfortable with his technique and he brushed off my concerns so I made up some shit about being a MaMa Grizzly and tearing someone to pieces just to get him off my ass (I told him it was my husband but I was imagining HIM.  Last laugh: me.) and I didn't go back.  He also didn't adjust my medication.  Douchnozzle. 

The bottom line is that I know I'm not perfect.  I know my life doesn't suck.  I may not have had the perfect "Brady Bunch" home life growing up, but who does??  Life is hard for everyone.  I don't think that I have any unrealistic expectations about what my life SHOULD be...it is what it is.  Sure, I would like some things to be different but I can't change that.  My feelings are not a result of a pity-party.  This depression is an all-encompassing feeling of sadness and an overwhelming desire to find a corner, curl up in a ball, crying, and hiding.  I don't want a magic lamp and genie to grant me all my wishes.  That wouldn't make this sadness disappear.   

What I DO WANT is this black cloud of despair to leave me the fuck alone!!!  I want to be able to sleep at night and wake up in the morning.  I want to be able to get dressed without feeling like I have to get myself amped up as if I'm going to run a marathon.  I want to be able to enjoy time with my son and not be afraid to fly off the handle at any moment.  I want to be able to be a productive partner in my marriage.  I want to be able to look forward to something...anything.  I'm not a moron when it comes to medicine.  I'm a nurse and I'm very familiar with the risks/benefits of medication.  I also know that long term clinical depression is a disorder where there is a chemical imbalance in the brain.  It's NOT psychological...it's a physiological condition that manifests as a psychological condition and if given enough time the psychological component may overshadow the physiological aspects. 

So this is where I've been at for the last few months.  There have been some bright spots where I've felt that maybe I'm coming out of it but all have been frustratingly fleeting...a mere glimpse at normalcy.  I'm again looking for a new doctor.  This one I have found is older than the last one (who was out of med school and her residency for 4 years) and specializes in women's health.  Until then I just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other and keep drawing breath.  If I stop doing those two things then the black vortex has won.