Thievery

I am fully convinced now that Depression steals from people. I have had whole parts of my identity stolen from me. That's not to say I can't get them back. But it is trying to take things from me. It is greedy, and it grabs at things, and holds onto them tight, and hopes that I will forget I once owned those things.

Like what? For one, my interests. I like to cook. But it has been so long since I've truly been able to remember the pleasurable parts of cooking that I have lost a lot of my cooking skills. People who I would characterize as good friends, and people who hardly know me, all think that I don't know how to cook, and that I don't really enjoy it. It surprises me and irritates me when I discover this attitude and belief in people. It is frustrating when my friends give me the same look my mom used to give me when I said I wanted to sew a quilt (she's seen me with a sewing machine--straight lines are harder than you think!) when I say I like cooking. I do like to cook. But even now, as the meds are returning me to a place of balance where I have interest in DOING things again, I struggle to make that true again. Because I've forgotten how somehow. And I can't think what to do. I have vague intentions of doing it again, and more often. But I feel deeply rooted in the rut in which I have entrenched myself.

It also has stolen my happiness. And I don't just mean the ability to feel it from day to day. I mean, while I've been so deeply immersed in a dark and dreary existence, I missed LIFE. I didn't choose things that maybe would have put me in better places. I seem to have lost some of the bonds with friends and loved ones that kept us bound to each others' daily lives. I'm alone. Other people around me seem to have managed to end up happy and WITH people, and DOING things. I do things, but alone.

I can't quite fully articulate what depression has stolen. People who have never felt it will often say, or privately think, that we are responsible for the loss we experience when we allow things to happen TO us. I don't dispute that. I have let a lot of things happen to me. I have been in those deep dark places where I don't care, because of a crazy chemical imbalance. It is all my fault my life is not different. And at the same time, it is NOT my fault. I have control over where I am, but I don't have control. I feel both ways. In my healthy moments, I can see what I should have done. But in those unhealthy moments, I didn't see it. 

So many times, from so many people, I've heard the viewpoint expressed that the dark ugly points in our lives make our lives richer, and deeper, and more the person we are meant to be. And on my sunny days, I agree with this concept, and sometimes even embrace it. But on my dark, desperate, miserable days, I despise this theory. I find it deplorable. What doesn't kill us might make us stronger. Or it might debilitate us and suspend us in our anguish.

I'm Super Sneaky.... Right?

In my life I have observed addiction and the havoc it wreaks on a person. I've seen someone in the early stages, who may succeed in hiding the addiction and gloss over the effects it is having on them. I have seen that same person begin to fail to hid their addiction, but not recognize that everyone can see their addiction. And sadly, I have seen the later stages, where all effort at hiding it are thrown aside, and the addiction has a firm grip on the person, and the effects really start to show. The person is changed by it. Depression can have a similar grip on a person, and I think have some similar effects.

Today I wondered to myself how I appear to others given my depression. I know that there have been moments where I have thought I was hiding the effects, but it was clear to at least those who love me and are close to me that I was deeply depressed. I know that there have been moments where I know the effects are evident to people, and I've not had either the energy or the inclination to attempt to hide the signs . But I don't know for sure how things look in general, and to all those in my lives.

Today, the man I have been dating was supposed to come over. He hasn't been over in a few weeks, and I have not had any other visitors in that time. I'm not going to lie; my house was an absolute wreck. I can be a pretty good housekeeper, especially when I am healthy. But when I am feeling a lot of stress or am really in the thick of my depression, it shows in how I take care of things around me. The chaos in my brain seems to translate to chaos in every aspect of my life. In normal circumstances, gaining some order in the aspects I can control, like my living environment and my office, helps me gain some control over my life (but my control issues are a whole other topic). But when I'm really unhealthy mentally, the physical order does not overcome my broader issues of foggy unfocus, inability to process emotions well, and lack of interest in.... anything. Including succeeding. Success? Not that great to depressed SadGirl.

I can't quite fully articulate the different I feel between healthy SadGirl and unhealthy SadGirl. All those symptoms on the little checklist they have you fill out at the doctor's office to determine the magnitude of your depression seem to have gained new meaning to me in the last year. Because I didn't realize how bad it could really get. And I feel like I've got a firm grasp on just how bad it can get. Am hoping I can move beyond that soon to having a distant memory of how that felt. But I digress.

So, my man is coming over. And I spent about an hour rushing around cleaning things and vacuuming and putting things away and doing dishes and organizing things. Which made me think of addiction. And how I think I can hide my illness. And the man? Super observant and good at noticing things. Which makes me wonder, am I like the crazy addicted person who insists they are not drunk even though they smell like a brewery and slur their words? Is he totally onto me? Also, is this a thing a lot of people dealing with depression do? I feel like I need to google "tips for hiding your depression." Maybe there is a guide for this. Am totally going to do that right now. Right after I click "publish."

Nature

I work with people who talk about "self care" a lot. It's important. I am bad at it. It doesn't help that I live alone, and have no compelling reason to leave work at a reasonable hour a lot of the time. I kind of suck at taking care of myself. This has been compounded in my lack of interest in, you know, life. Recently I've found an interest in life again. This is very encouraging. Things bring me joy, and, dare I hope, peace. I find myself not only excited to make plans, but willing to actually carry them out. I suddenly have the ability to enjoy things again. Mind you, I have not suddenly become an extrovert. Large social events still don't thrill me. Or even small social events, really. But I have rediscovered my love of nature. The last hike I took, my spirit was practically singing. I felt bliss. I did not know that bliss was still a thing! I might have to try this nature thing again.

I Need a Vacation

My friend just left for vacation, and I won't see her for a few weeks.When we parted, I had the impulse to savor the last few moments together, because I was going to miss her. After she left, I pondered why it felt like such a huge deal to part, as thought I wouldn't see her for a very long time. She is always eager to say goodbye to people when vacation is looming.I don't get that. As I thought about that, I thought, I'm never so excited about vacation. But, I also thought, if I was getting a break from me, I would feel a burst of freedom like she seemed to be feeling too. I want a vacation from me. I'm exhausting. I don't blame others for wanting a break from me. This friend wants a break from me. My man wants a break Why can't I have a break? It would be so relaxing. I wish I knew how to do that. .

Choose Me.

Why do I pick the men that don't choose me. If it's between me and some fun thing to do, they choose the thing. That's a sign, I know. Somehow I get really wrapped up in them before they start doing that. And then I don't want to let go, even though they don't choose me. Also they make it my fault that they didn't choose me. So sick of this.

Turns Out Music is Fun

One of the oddest effects of my depression is that Music literally can pain me when I'm depressed. I used to LOVE music. I found it soothing, and it was a great way to relax for me. Then, in my twenties, it was too hard to listen to when I was having a really hard time.  That is when I discovered talk radio and became an Old Person.I have continued to like music over the years, and didn't' realize I was missing anything.But this week, I'm loving music again in a way that I didn't realize I was missing. Who knew.

Make the Jaw Clenching Stop

I have developed this thing in adulthood where I clench my jaw when I  am stressed out, to the point where my jaw gets tired. I have had to learn to stretch the muscles to try to get it to stop hurting. This is not a good sign. Today is a jaw clenching day. I'm so tired of jaw clenching days. I really, really love my job. But I also hate it. I love what I do. But I also hate what I do. I love it because it's a job that helps people. And that is good. I hate it because it is so thankless. Don't get me wrong; I'm not one of those people that needs to be thanked all the time. But it would be great if my coworkers and boss didn't seem to be constantly under the impression that I'm not doing ENOUGH. They tell me that they know I work hard and then in the same day, will tell me what ELSE I should be doing, with the time I do not have. Because what I have done is not enough. There needs to be More. Everything needs to be improved on. No one ever seems to think that I rock at anything. When I say I rocked at something, they have to point out how I, in fact, was only passable in my performance. Because, you know, you can always improve. Like I don't have that constant narrative in my head. I know I can always improve. I am WELL AWARE that I am not perfect, and cannot achieve perfection. But thank you, lovely work people, for driving home JUST HOW FLAWED I really am. Just when I thought I was aware of my flaws and the way I suck, you point out more ways. And my anxiety goes into overdrive. You know this, and you still do it. You're jerks. There, I've said it. And admitting you are a jerk does not mean it's okay to continue being one.

Grr.

I hate Mondays.