Adventures in depression. And some other shit...

So I've been away for ages and it's been gut wrenching and sad and blah blah blah. I'm so not going there to relive it. Not all in one go anyway.

Suffice to say I went to the bottom of my own personal hell hole and came out fighting.

Do I feel better? Eh....

Will I write about it? Maybe...

Is it over? I don't know.

It was these two posts from two of my favorite bloggers - Jenny The Bloggess and Allie from Hyperbole and a Half - that made me realize that I REALLY AM NOT ALONE. In that good, fuzzy, deep down inside, I'm-not-the-freak-I-think-I-am way.

I mean, everyone who has had even one depressed day in their life has heard the form response "you're not the only one", from well meaning friends and family. But that has always made me feel worse. It always makes me feel guilty for feeling depressed. Like I can't take ownership of the shitty way I'm feeling because every man and his dog feels bad sometime. Like the people who are trying to help are saying, "Snap out of it, you'll be right, everyone feels like shit occasionally, stop feeling sorry for yourself." and the ever faithful, "Smile, you'll feel better." I know I'm not the only one. I know everyone feels shitty sometimes. That doesn't make my depression any less valid, does it?

And I really, seriously know you are trying to make me feel better, and I really, seriously appreciate you trying but...

Please, please. Stop helping.

You really want to help? Get me a Bourbon/Valium smoothie and let me cry. I don't know why I'm crying, I can't answer that so please don't ask, it only makes me cry more. Stop staring at me helplessly and put on Van Wilder: Party Liaison and laugh with me instead. Then maybe we'll both feel better.

Now I guess this isn't the best "I'm back!" post you've ever read. And I know this post is narcissistic. And I know It's all, "poor me I'm depressed". I guess I went there after all. But you want to know something?

I'm okay with that.

I am back.

I've missed writing. I need it.

Over the next weeks and months I'll try to find me again.

I promise.

Writers Workshop - Mother's Day is Coming...

23rd April 2010

I've missed the past few Workshops due to one thing or another and I have found it a bit hard to get back on track. I'm not even sure I can do it justice this week, but I'm determined to try! As usual I may get a little side-tracked, but I'll do my best.

5.) Mother’s Day is coming…what is the secret behind the close bond you have with your mom? OR What do you do to create that close bond with your kids?

Okay. So, any of the 5 people who read my blog know that my Mum died 6 years ago now from Cancer. And that I have a teenage daughter who I love fiercely, and who frustrates, and scares, the hell out of me.

I was lucky enough to have my Mum when I was growing up.

She was the 'cool' Mum that everyone wanted. She hung out with us, not in an over-protective way, or in a creepy Mutton-dressed-up-as-Lamb way. But in a listen to music, chill on the couch, I'd-rather-you-did-it-here-than-get-in-trouble-on-the-streets kinda way. My friends still dropped in to visit her long after I had gone my own way, and most of them attended her funeral. 

Don't get me wrong, she was no pushover. She just knew what teenage kids were thinking, and she was able to cause it to flourish in a non-destructive way, rather than try to stifle it like most of my friends parents did. She allowed us to be ourselves so that we didn't feel the need to rebel and be someone else. And in that way she was the best Mum ever.

She was also mean, and cruel. She shouted and threw things, and she stayed locked in her room crying. She was selfish. She said the most horrible things. 

It wasn't until I buried her and was diagnosed with Bi-Polar after having the same problems that I realised that she was sick.

She never told me or my brothers that she had BPD. I don't even think she knew herself. She just suffered in silence. That was typical of Mum. She was proud. Too proud to admit that she needed help until it was too late.

If there is one thing that I have learnt from my Mum it's to be open and honest with Tomika. I KNOW I need her help sometimes, and I'm not afraid to ask. I've been accused of putting too much on her young shoulders. Of not allowing her to live the life of blissful ignorance that a child should.

But I just think of my Mum, and I refuse to have her feel helpless. I refuse to have her sitting on the ground outside my closed door crying silently because she doesn't know what to do. I know that for us to to have a close relationship, I can't lie to her. She deserves to know why Mum's in bed sometimes. She deserves to know why Mum cries occasionally.

She deserves to know it's not her fault.

Lately I don't sleep.

Lately I don't sleep.

When my BPD goes on a 'high', my brain is ON 24/7 and I can't stop it.

So... I don't sleep.

I've tried everything. Sleeping pills, Valium, Xanax... Herbal remedies. Nothing works. My BPD meds are SUPPOSED to take care of it for me, but they don't.

So... I don't sleep.

Do you know what it feels like to go for days without sleep? To have your brain going on and on, and over and over things you can't change. Every minute of every day... And every night.

During the day, it's kinda okay. Cope-able. But at night there's not much to do except THINK.

I can't watch TV, because it doesn't capture my attention enough to stop the thoughts going round and round in my head. Reading is useless. I find myself re-reading the same sentence over and over without registering what I've seen. I couldn't even tell you the subject of the book I'm reading. I've always got about 5 books on the go, trying in vain to find ONE that will distract me, even for a minute, from the nothingness.

So... I don't sleep.

After a few days of sleeplessness, you go numb. Nothing makes an impact.

Only Tomika breaks through. She reaches down through the quicksand of my mind and drags me back.

So for her, I make an effort. I make her food. I drive to and from school. I help with her daily problems.

I smile.

Lately I don't sleep.

The Kindness of Strangers...

There are some days where the actions of one person can either ruin, or make your day. Today was one of them.

I was out today in our local Mall, heading single-mindedly to the supermarket do my food shopping when a woman about my age came up to me out of the blue and asked me if I was alright. I said "Yes, thank you... Why do you ask?". She amazed me by saying, "You just looked kind of down, and like you could use a friend," she went on to add, "Please excuse me if I am being nosey, I just wondered if you were ok."

The genuine look on her face, paired with her obvious concern hit me, and I found myself tearing up.

While I was apologising and blubbering away, she gently led me to a private corner in the nearest coffee shop, ordered coffee for two, and invited me to, "Get it off my chest".

We talked for what seemed like ages. I found myself telling her everything that has been on my mind. From my bad days lately with my BPD, to my car playing up, feeling like a bad Mum, and even the fact that I only had $100 to buy groceries for four people for the week, not including luxuries like; toilet paper, tampons and toothpaste (or the three T's).

She was a great listener, she just sat and let me talk. She didn't offer advice, didn't try to one-up me, or tell me how she or others had it worse, and that I should be grateful.

She just... listened.

When I had finally petered out, she got up and said she hoped I was feeling a bit better, and thanked me for spending some time with her. Then she left.

After settling myself down, I went to pay for my coffee, and I was told that 'my friend' had already paid.

That's when I realised, I didn't even know her name.

So I would just like to say:

To the unknown woman who showed the most amazing compassion to a total stranger. Thank you. One day I will repay your kindness to someone else who needs it.

Bi-Polar Anonymous...

Occasionally my Bi-Polar Disorder plays up more than normal. (If you aren't up to date on what BPD is, you can go here for an text-book explanation, or here if you actually want to understand what you are reading about.)

On those days I turn into either Uber-Bitch or Depression-Diva, depending on whether I'm up or down on the day in question.

I have decided to use this blog, in part, as my own BPD Anonymous/12 step - program...

Welcome to today's meeting.

Hi, I'm Depression-Diva and I have BPD.

Today I slept until 2.30pm. I got up, had 3 cups of tea, and went back to bed to watch some Dexter. I haven't, as yet, had a shower, or brushed my teeth. I can't be bothered. The scattered thoughts running through my brain, tell me over and over that I'm hopeless. That I'm a bad Mum, a bad person, that I 'should' be up/showered/dressed/cleaning the house/looking for a job. But I really don't care.

Most of the people in my life don't understand. They tell me to 'get over it', 'clean yourself up and you'll feel better' and 'think positively'. It's ok. I get it. They are trying, in the only way they know how, to help.

When it first happened, when my Mum died, I thought I was going insane. I understood grief, and that it was only natural to feel bad, but I couldn't work out why one minute I would be upset, and the next euphoric. It just didn't make sense. Everything I read about grief just didn't fit.

I would spend money I didn't have on crap and not pay my rent or bills. I stopped eating and I drank. A lot. I would go out with friends and get myself totalled, abuse everybody, and then drive home. The next day, I wouldn't remember a thing. I pushed/scared away all my friends. I worried my family. I freaked MYSELF out.

It got to the point where I wouldn't speak to anyone for days, I would ignore the phone, sleep until the late afternoon, turn on the TV, watch for a few hours, then go back to sleep. Or I would stay in bed for days reading. I gave up on me.

Then one day, I realised that I had been in bed for 2 weeks straight. I hadn't showered, I'd barely eaten. I hadn't spoken to anyone the entire time... And I hadn't seen my child. She was at her Dads. That was the day that I finally understood what this was doing to me.

I dragged myself out of bed and onto the computer and I started searching. I found a medical site, (I can't remember the name) that I typed in the stuff I was doing, and it spat out a semi-diagnosis. Bi-Polar Disorder. So I searched that too. I found a forum where people were writing about their thoughts and how they were feeling. I wasn't alone! Finally, I felt a touch better.

Through it I found BeyondBlue, which in turn put me on to a good GP in my area. I made an appointment, and as hard as it was, got myself diagnosed. The rest as they say is history.

These days, after much trial and error, I am on a fairly successful mix of medications that seem to be helping. Most of the time I am symptom free.

So today, I am Depression Diva. Tomorrow, who knows? But I do know one thing, it WILL get better.