What to Do with All This Interest In Life...

As my meds appear to be working, as they seem to be on some days now, I'm realizing that I've been in a weird rut/holding pattern for several years now. I have been doing what it takes to get by and not much more, and I've been shutting down and shutting out the world whenever possible. As a result, I am so in the habit of not doing the things that interest me, I have to figure out how to have a life again. I let myself get sucked into my computer and then the day is done and I haven't done anything, even though I've had a strange yearning to be productive and do things that make me happy.

So part of the process, I think, is to make a list and intentionally do some things each day before I'm allowed to let the computer suck away my brain. Things like reading my book, writing my thoughts in my little blank book, writing some fiction, blogging, visiting my nieces and nephews, going to their games, getting dinner with some friends I haven't seen in a LONG time, going for walks/jogs, visiting nature, checking out free public events, cleaning/organizing my house, re-committing myself to my religious studies, finding new things to study, exploring the idea of getting a masters or a certificate, listening to music, clean my car for that feeling of accomplishment and... cleanness, do thoughtful things for people like send cards or make them cookies, get a pedicure, purging my house of junk, planning menus and cooking nummy stuff, and finding somewhere to volunteer. See, even a month ago, I couldn't even come up with a list of more than like two things that I enjoy doing that I could do for self care. Because nothing sounded good. I didn't enjoy life. And now, sometimes, I think I might be able to enjoy these things. At least on some days.

Scary Happiness!

I have a friend who has told me a few times that she sometimes thinks I'm afraid to be happy. She also has asked before if I think I might look for things to worry about. I sometimes think she is right. I do seem to latch onto something to worry about, and then just worry away at it. With my struggles with anxiety lately, I've noticed that if I'm anxious about something, and then that thing becomes a non-issue, the feeling of elation is short-lived (right now sometimes even seconds) and then my mind has grabbed onto something new to worry about. Now that the meds are being a wee bit kinder, I'm feeling a little less obsessively anxious, which is fabulous. But, still. Today is Saturday. I don't have to work today. I can't do anything about the things that I need to take care of. I left things at work in a state where there was nothing urgent. I don't have a specific thing I'm worried about, and yet I have an uneasy feeling, like something bad is going to happen. And if I let myself start searching my mind, I have several things on deck that I could spend the day worrying about.

I really need to figure this anxiety thing out. This is the focus of counseling sessions for me. My last counselor was not cutting it. I don't like to reject people, and also I'm quick to think that counseling will not fix me, so I was countering that feeling with a resistance to looking at getting a new counselor. Fortunately, that counselor had some personal things that is keeping her out of the office, and since I need to stay on the counseling bandwagon, I found a new counselor. I have a very good feeling about her. I am fairly certain she will give me the tools I need to move forward a wee bit finally. And she probably won't take some of my excuses and stuff, which both scares and encourages me.

So, I need to do self-care today. And make the most of it. And resist the urge to turn off my brain and check out. Which is what I want to do right now. Being productive is hard. I need a nap.

Deeper and Uglier (or, Where Is the Love)

Just when I think that I have seen the worst it will be for me, and that I can hold onto brighter times in the future, things get worse. And uglier. And my sorrow and anxiety and all those bad feelings delve so deep. If I had the option, I would have had weeks of not getting out of bed. Things have been looking pretty bleak. The world is pretty hard on people struggling with depression, especially when they mess up. Even people who have that shared experience are hard on you. In some respects I think they are harder on you. I am struggling to find an explanation for why friends who say they love me, who have been through some form of this, have so little tolerance for my misery. Perhaps it is because things haven't been as bad for them. Perhaps it is because their ways of coping are different from mine, and they don't understand why I'm not coping like they do. Perhaps it's because they are just as critical of themselves, and this is more about projecting than truly judging me. Whatever it is, it feels devastating to me sometimes.

This perhaps reflects my personal issues with wanting to please people. I really, really, really, want my friends and loved ones (and bosses, and coworkers, and the waiter, and the bus driver...) to think I'm great. I want them to think I'm smart. I want them to think I'm trustworthy, honest, and a solid friend. It's not enough for me to know those things myself. I need other people to see that, and acknowledge that. But, also, I think that most "normal" people would feel a little forsaken if their friends had indicated, when it was taking everything in them to hang on, that they weren't doing enough, and that they were not good enough the way that they were.

I think of one friend in particular. If she were to read this, she would probably dispute it, and say that she had never said I am not good enough. I've seen her do this to other people, so I shouldn't take it so personally, right? The bottom line is, though, that she sends the message, with her irritation, and her dismissal of the things I have to tell her, that if I were more on top of things, I would be more healthy, and my misery is due to my own laziness. Perhaps there is some truth to this. Depression is an ugly tangly thing, and the apathy and lack of interest in activities can lead to being more sedentary, which can then lead to feeling more depressed... it's one of the ugly truths of the disease. But, I spend a lot of time and effort pushing past that. And it's exhausting. That's where I feel like she needs to cut me some slack.

Really, I need to stop worrying about what she thinks. I know that's the healthy thing. But the reality is that we care what people think of us. Especially people we love. We want them to be proud of us. We want them to respect us. We want them to support us.

Why does it have to be so complicated?