I missed work Friday because my brain was sick. I missed work Saturday because my brain was sick. We had a blizzard Saturday night into Sunday morning. There were at least 12-16 inches of snow in my driveway, and my snowblower belt broke...again. The snowblower repair man felt guilty, as he had just replaced the belt, so he came over and fixed it again.
Unfortunately, the repairman's truck got stuck in my driveway, and as I assisted in digging him out, I injured my back, my left lumbar spine, with the same knock-me-to-my-knees pain I experienced 18 months ago when my L4 disc exploded. I had no choice but to finish clearing the snow, but once I came into the house, the extent of my injury became quite clear. It's more than 24 hours later, and I can barely move.
In the meantime, my mood and my thinking have been disintegrating before my eyes. Violent thoughts, self-inflicted violent thoughts, have been overwhelming. These thoughts are distressing, disturbing, and crazy-making. I feel "less than" every time I have them. I don't understand where they come from. I don't understand why they are so detailed and visual. And I especially don't understand why they are so compelling.
Admitting to these thoughts here is especially anxiety producing, as some of my friends and coworkers occasionally check in on this blog. I don't want to be the crazy one. I don't want to frighten people. I don't want to lose the confidence of my patients or my coworkers. But I'm trying to be honest in hopes one of you may identify, too. You are not alone. And if you are not alone, I hope I'm not alone either.
This thinking symptom of depression is not something most people understand, in my humble opinion. The fucked up thinking, for me the violent fucked up thinking, is yet another disturbing, distressing, unsettling symptom of a disturbing, distressing, unsettling illness. Depression is an illness which removes me from my life. Telling somebody my mood is low is a little more PC than telling them I wish to slice my neck from stem to stern. Let's see how many people hang around after that revelation! Yet that's my revelation for this evening. If you can relate, I'm sorry. But if you can relate, I bet you're not alone. Let's hang in there together, my friends.
Depression Marathon Blog
- etta
- Diagnosed with depression 18 years ago, I lost the life I once knew, but in the process re-created a better me. I am alive and functional today because of my dog, my treatment team, my sobriety, and my willingness to re-create myself within the confines of this illness. I hate the illness, but I'm grateful for the person I've become and the opportunities I've seized because of it. I hope writing a depression blog will reduce stigma and improve the understanding and treatment of people with mental illness. All original content copyright to me: etta. Enjoy your visit!
Monday, February 25, 2019
The disintegration of my brain
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6 comments:
You're not the "crazy one." You're the human one. The human one with all of the complexities and contradictions they don't talk about in the owner's manual.
I CAN relate. Not with the intensity you're experiencing now, but certainly with the quality and the specificity. I know what your mental state is like; I've been lost in that forest myself many times. So your premise is correct: we are not alone in this, even though it seems like it at the time.
I've said it before, and I wish it were true, but if I could take this burden from your shoulders, I would in an instant.
(Also, I don't think a neck would have a "stem" or "stern." Probably "abeam" would be a better phrasing, but I'm a word person. Also, also, this is meant as levity!)
@ Paul: I appreciate the levity. My comment scared people, and I apologize for that. I was just being brutally honest. Depression, it turns out, is not all sunshine and roses, nor sadness and tears... it is a complicated, messy, scary illness which often doesn't make any sense whatsoever. Thanks again for your support, Paul.
I am so very sorry to hear of your relapse Etta. It totally, completely sucks. And yes, I have been where you are and understand completely what you are experiencing. Would another round of Ketamine be an option for you?
I also can relate. To the thoughts and to the anxiety it produces when you tell people about them. Especially people who might not understand.
I agree with Paul. You're not crazy. Just a human with a very scary illness.
Take care of yourself and if you can't consider letting others take care of you.
I read your last post about hospitalization and the treatment they give you. I also can relate to that. But maybe you really need it to survive. And maybe that is more important than everything else right now.
You are not alone. Hang in there.
Dear Etta. Thank you for being so brave and sharing your authentic self. I cried when I read what you wrote. I so hate this shitty disease.
I'm in the midst of a very bad bout. I'm usually numb and relate to what Andrew Solomon said, The opposite of depression isn't happiness, its vitality But I've been experiencing deep, gut-wrenching sobbing, which hasn't happened for years, though I have chronic major depression.
I love these two lines from your post:
...my mood and my thinking have been disintegrating before my eyes .
Depression is an illness which removes me from my life.
Thank you for being there, even during the really tough times.
Etta - you're not crazy. You have an illness. You're a wonderful person with an illness. I hope you'll consider going to the hospital. It's the first step on the way back to your steady ground. Even though the first step will suck, the steady ground will be wonderful when you get there. We're all reading what you write and are sending you every positive energy that can travel to your mind and heart.
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