This summer has been hard for me. I’m not going to lie.
I started it off by turning 30, which I was extremely excited about. I’m a bit sentimental when it comes to numbers, and I was doing the whole clean-slate-fresh-start thing in my head.
And there have been a lot of good changes recently, this website and the idea to strike out on my own as a nutrition renegade being not the least of them — but there’ve also been some hard things that I haven’t gone into detail about.
Now’s probably the time to remedy that.
I’ve semi-identified as a person with a disability for a few years now. I say “semi” because my disability is not visible — it’s “mental” or “emotional” in nature. (Except, because of my bias against such Cartesian dualism, I consider all mental and emotional problems as inherently physical, and all physical problems to carry some emotional/mental weight with them.)
This whole “I’m kinda/sorta/not-really disabled” thing is just now coming home to me in a major way, though I’ve kinda/sorta/not-really accepted it since 2005, when I first registered as a disabled student at my university.
To put it plainly, I have depression.
Yeah, it’s a boring thing to have, and I’m so sick of thinking about it that I can hardly even stand to type out the word. I’ve had it a long, long time, since childhood.
I’ve tried a lot of treatments for it — a fair bit of therapy, a fair number of drugs. None of them worked in any long-term, fundamental way. I’ve also done a lot of self-medicating in the form of, shall we say maladaptive behaviours, and experienced some hard-core avoidance that is more accurately described as TOTAL PHYSICAL PARALYSIS rather than “procrastination,” and SHITTING MY PANTS IN TERROR rather than “anxiety.”
So why bring all this up now?
This spring, I tried a new drug. It started really working for me toward early summer.
It was the first time I can recall feeling “normal,” mood-wise, since before I was about ten years old. It gave me so much hope. It realigned my vision of what life could be, of what it probably is for people without mood disorders. I woke up in the morning not wishing I were dead, and it was…it was…
…it was magic. It was falling in love. It was bringing the dead back to life. It was winning the lottery and the Miss America Pageant all on the same day. It was waking up from a nightmare and saying to yourself, “It was all a dream. It’s over.”
But it wasn’t over. The drug stopped working.
Within a few weeks, my stubborn, intractible brain managed to compensate for the new chemicals flooding it, to return to its cherished equilibrium-state of feeling like utter shit. Of fatigue, of tiredness, of hopelessness, fear and guilt.
My doctor told me I have treatment-resistant depression. I told her that I would rather die than accept that.
She told me to stop fighting.
I went home and bawled my eyes out.
For all my talking the talk about alternative definitions of health, of “inhabit, accept, and cope,” I haven’t been much walking that particular walk, except as it relates directly to being fat.
Depression has been different to me, somehow. For as (relatively) easily as I could accept that I was just going to be a fat lady, and buy fat lady clothes in fat lady stores, and never quite fit into certain social or physical spaces, and that I would commit myself to respecting my body anyway, and fighting for a culture than can similarly respect people’s bodies, it remained totally unacceptable to me that I would wake up every morning with this anvil of utter suck pressing down into my heart, hobbling me from doing the things I desperately needed to do and mocking me whenever I stumbled.
Case in point: it has taken seven years, thus far, to reach my fourth year in university. By the time I graduate, it will have taken me eight full years.
This is entirely because of the depression.
Yes, I have worked at the same time, and gained a lot of experience, and been accepted for jobs that students are not normally accepted for. But I did this as compensation for what I could not do at school, which was face my intense fear of judgment, of being graded, of being praised and shamed like a dog.
Even at my worst, I could function well at work — it provided an escape. School, however, became intolerable. It set me in a cage with my worst fears, and restrained me by the shoulders as they took turns socking me in the gut.
This summer, when the medication stopped working, I wasn’t even able to perform at work anymore. It took me an extra three or four hours each night just to complete my basic tasks. I no longer cared about anything — about being late, about getting things done, about what my boss wanted, about being the perfect little employee I’d been for the last five years.
And I realized the grip of this depression was getting tighter, closing doors and windows through which I’d previously been able to escape for a few blessed hours, in my white coat, to neat desks and the smell of disinfectant and tidy to-do lists and calorie counts.
In plain English, my functioning was getting worse. I was becoming increasingly unable to do basic tasks, and I could no longer avoid thinking about it. The typical treatments were not working for me, except as a temporary stop-gap, and I’d done them so many times that I was frankly exhausted.
So, now my doctor has verified my worst fear: I am stuck with this thing.
It is not temporary; it is not external; it is a permanent part of me.
As such, I am now slowly taking the steps required to accept this, much in the way I had to learn to accept my body.
I am disabled. I will have to learn certain kindnesses and flavours of compassion I previously had the privilege of eschewing, and I will have to practise them on the most unsympathetic character imaginable — myself.
Instead of fighting, we’ll have to make it up somehow. We’re roommates, not mortal enemies. There is nothing to be gained by dashing out my brains against this particular rock, and everything to lose by continuing to fight.
I’m going to work with it, live with it.
And I’m beginning to think that could be okay.
55 Comments
Oh, Michelle – I’m so sorry to hear that your depression’s treatment-resistant. I can’t imagine what a punch in the gut it must have been when your new meds stopped working. I wish you the best of luck and all the strength you need in coming to terms with your permanent roommate.
Thanks so much.
It is weird how a slight shift in diagnosis can make you come away feeling like you’ve had a momentous shift in identity.
Despite how it sounds in this post, we’re continuing to explore treatments, just alternative ones, and I’m having to scale down my expectations of what might be achieved through them.
As battered as I felt at first, I do wonder if it will give me some special insight into self-acceptance, and into coming up with creative ways to cope and live well, even in the presence of illness or disability (a.k.a. “while being human.”) I feel pretty determined to do that.
That feeling of determination to live well as I am is just such a different one than the hope of “maybe I’ll just get rid of this thing magically, altogether, someday…” that it will take some getting used to. But I think it could be good.
Have you considered ECT? Electro-convulsive therapy is nothing like the 1970′s horror stories you hear and is incredibly helpful in patients with intractable or permanent depression that hasn’t responded to drug therapy. Ask your doctor about it, it might just work for you, the statistics and anecdotal evidence would support that you’re an eligible candidate who just might be helped by it.
but the probable — not just potential, but probable — side effects of ect, like varying degrees of memory loss, make it something of a last resort. tweaking the meds comes first. ect should be a much later maybe.
I wish you the best with both your determination to live well with depression and your search for alternative treatments. Your post makes me realize how fortunate I am that I have found relief in pharmaceuticals. I’ve coped with depression, on and off, for most of my life as well. It wasn’t officially diagnosed until I was in grad school, nearly 20 years ago, but it probably was present 10 years earlier. (It wasn’t as easily talked about, diagnosed, and treated back then as it is today.) My heart goes out to you.
Best wishes, with all your endeavors. I really enjoy your blog and your tweets, so I hope they continue to be part of your “living well” plan!
Hi Michelle–I just want to commend you for your brave and honest post. I and many of my family members deal with depression. It’s so pervasive in our culture, yet so misunderstood and still stigmatized. “Coming out” about it is a good thing and I think a big key to coping long term. Keep seeking alternative treatments–sometimes I think the seeking part is almost more important than any potential magic pill. Still, what a mean tease to have relief and then have it taken away! Robin
Michelle, I’m so sorry to hear you are going through this. I really admire your attitude about it. I was thinking recently about how much of what we go through is tolerable to us only because we know when it will end, and how intolerable things can feel when we don’t know when/if they’ll end. Keeping a positive attitude even without the assurance that pain is going to (soon) come to an end is so hard.
Michelle,
What a brave post! I know your insight, compassion, natural curiosity about science and the world around you, and sense of humor, which I’ve seen you display so much on your site, will supply you with some useful tools. And your honesty about your struggles with depression will help many people who either have depression, or who have other reasons that make self-acceptance a challenge. Good luck, and please continue to keep us posted. You rock!
-Laurie
So sorry to hear about your resistance to treatment. I know it must be a difficult time for you. I was diagnosed with Depression about a year ago. After taking Celexa, for a month, it completely changed my life for the better.
I realize that your doctor told you to give up…but I don’t think you should ever give up. This is your quality of life at stake. Keep searching…maybe there are natural remedies out there. You never know what might work for you.
Good Luck! Take care!
I am so sorry to hear your news. People don’t realize how debilitating depression and/or anxiety can be. If I have to hear, “Just shake it off” or “Just get up and DO something, you’d feel better,” I might scream. When one literally can’t get out of bed, there’s not much going out or shaking off to be done. I found relief with medication, but I could not handle the side effects and will never try again. I wish I had the magic answer for everyone who suffers from, well, anything. I wish you all the best in your journey/ies.
(I think this is my first post here.)
Thank you so much for sharing your experience. It sounds like you’re really in a tough spot, but that you have a great deal of strength.
This really resonated with me. I don’t think my depression is necessarily resistent to meds, but it does seem like I have to keep increasing doses and adding more drugs in order to keep feeling ok. And it’s not like the depression or anxiety ever go away completely. I have found it difficult to accept the idea that they very likely never will, and I really admire the courage you’ve displayed in this post.
Another thing: I’m about to start my final semester of college next week, at age 31. When I graduate it will be over 13 years since I first enrolled at a university. I’ve dropped out of 2 colleges 3 different times, and yeah, it’s pretty much entirely due to my depression. It has never occurred to me to identify as a disabled student, and I wonder how things might have been different for me if it had.
Anyway, thank you again. You’ve given me a lot to think about. And best wishes to you as you continue to deal with this.
What a moving post, Michelle. There are literally tears in my eyes right now.
I wish you all the best on your journey to accept depression. And I hope you can find some relief! Sooner rather than later…
{{Hugs}}
Aw. I don’t believe that it has to be this bad forever. I’m doing a rotation that’s basically about treatment-resistant depression now, and people DO get better! Maybe there’s something you haven’t tried, or maybe you’d benefit from a consult with a more experienced psychiatrist? Anyways, looking forward to seeing you on Sunday.
Well, if you were more of a drunk and/or didn’t like your family so much, you could be seeing me TONIGHT. But, yes, Sunday.
P.S. Can you bring my binder and notebook with you? I kept meaning to come over and get them, and kept sitting around unwashed instead.
I’ve been thinking about this too, for the last year and a half or so, accepting that my problems with anxiety and depression are just another part of me. I’ve always been prone to depression and anxiety. I’ve always been sensitive and intuitive and creative, and I’ve come to believe that those traits are bound up inside one another. It’s like a coin, with a good side and a bad side. I’m not saying that every artist has to be a raving lunatic drunk, but through my own experience I’ve started to wonder if the same traits that make an artist a good artist (sensitivity, intuition, mercurial emotions) are the same traits that make life a little more difficult for some folks to bear. My family thinks I’m completely nuts for considering the idea of laying down my sword and shield, so to speak, but I’m tried of fighting.
I’m so sorry for your pain. I just want you to know that to many of us out here you are SUCH a cool person and for us, you are a bright spot in our darkness, so please hang in there and don’t give up.
Thank you for your honest post. I’m sorry you had to ‘swing’ from such an optimistic state to a deeply crushed one. Alternative therapies might work better for you. They have for me. I’m 36 and in the past year a great therapist, high grade fish pills, liquid B vitamins and EMDR therapy have transformed me. And my depression was deep, pervasive and endless. Anyway, I hope you feel better soon. I really wanted to let you know your blog, which I stumbled on while vacationing with my eating-disordered, (and judgmental of fat me) panic attack inducing sisters, SAVED me. I’m new to FA and have been reading a lot of Shapely Prose but your lovely postings helped me relax and enjoy eating in a very fraught family atomosphere! I wish you well.
Michelle — what a courageous and brave and just plain amazing your new post about depression is!
I, too, have suffered from depression (thank god mine responded well to medication!) and therefore can relate to what you wrote here and especially the university/work -thing caught my eye – I never thought of it that way and always wondered why I am able to ‘perform’ at work well, and at the same time get totally paralyzed with my university studies (by the way, I am starting my third year, and it only took me six years to get there, LOL).
Thank you for writing this, Michelle. You just made me hate myself less about being a “total failure” in my studies (whenever i feel down, my brain just seems to always remind me what a stupid slob i am for taking so loooong with my studies) …AND you made me feel less alone — not bad for a blog post ;)
Anyways, enough rambling from me, and by the way you rock! I love your attitude, your writing, your fighting spirit. And it’s absolutely unfair that you have to suffer from depression. But just see what a compassionate, talented, fierce human being you are… despite your perpetual low moods….that alone is impressive.
I wish you luck with finding a ‘cure’. And don’t accept the label of ‘chronic’, and treatment resistant TOO easily — I believe there is always hope. I can only speak from my experience from the ED field…. I’ve heard sooo many stories about anorexics/bulimics whose doctors had given up on them, and told them just to accept that they would always have some sort of an ED, and that’s it. Except, no, that’s NOT it.
Get a second opinion, a third one, as many opinions as it takes for you to find a doctor who won’t give up on you.
Aw, honey. That sucks.
I think acceptance is a really positive step, though. The various admonitions to “not give up hope” above kind of irk me, even though I know everyone saying that means only the most loving thing: that they want you to be happy and functional, and can’t stand the thought of you having to live in misery. Same with me. Same with you, duh.
But I think what your post illustrates is the crucial distinction between giving up hope and giving up fighting. Hope, however dashable, is generally a good thing — and it certainly seems worthwhile to keep trying alternative treatements. But fighting is exhausting in and of itself. And frankly, so is having the kind of hope that only gets dashed again and again.
So I don’t think it’s a matter of giving up hope so much as readjusting it, hoping for different specifics: e.g., that you can function as well as possible, that you can feel proud of yourself and your work, that you can have meaningful relationships, that you can be patient and forgiving with yourself when any or all of those things are strained — as opposed to the hope that you can feel “normal” all the time. It’s hoping to make peace with who you are, rather than wishing you could be someone with a different brain (or find a pill that reliably made you feel like one).
I am so sorry you are stuck with a brain that rebels against efforts to make it easier to live with. But as someone who only “knows” you through your writing, I gotta say, that is still one pretty great brain. It is extremely valuable and lovable as-is. So I think not fighting it anymore is a really good idea.
And I wish I had the kind of brain that would allow me to ignore the extra E I just put in “treatments” instead of writing a whole other comment about it.
Michelle, I am so sorry to hear this. Depression is crummy. :-( Personally I have struggled with depression for as long as I can remember and have been on various anti-depressants. Most work (somewhat) for a little while (or just take the edge off) before the depression returns. This time I decided to work with my naturopath. He gave me a supplement of 5-HTP and something he calls Crave Relief (both are serotonin supplements) as well as some vitamins and minerals and other stuff. And Michelle, it’s like a miracle. Within a week the depression lifted and I started to feel NORMAL again. If you like I would be more than happy to give you his number and/or website and/or give you the details of my treatment plan–although I know everybody is different and what works for me may not work for you. In any case, I wish the best for you and I hope you can find a way to live with your horrible “roommate”. I know it’s not fun. (((HUGS)))
Ouch. It took me years of therapy, going in and out of depressive episodes, before I finally tried drugs. Thank God the second one took because this? This would have made me crazier.
OTOH, when celexa quit working on its own, adding wellbutrin did help.
Re: 5-HTP, a depressive medical assistant I know raves about it.
*hugs offered*
Reading this felt like reading a personal entry I’d write myself. I know exactly what you’re talking about; I’ve had depression for as far back as I remember, and I’m treatment resentment myself. I’ve been more stable lately, and medication’s helped keep the mood swinging from going out of control, but I’ve had… word for word… the same experience.
When I first started on this medication, it worked wonders; I felt happy for the first time in my life. I felt healthy, mentally and physically. It saved me and taught me that I could, in fact, feel “normal”. It taught me how far my depression went, and what a sharp difference even that was from how bad I USED to be.
Then, the medication stopped working so well. I keep with it because it keeps my brain together at least, and the stability it gives me is worth the medication. But I know that crushing feeling that “I can’t be that happy anymore”. …Well, at least, not so “easily”. It takes a lot of work and mental reconstruction to get happy again.
There is a way to cope with depression, and even to send it back a little independently. To overcome it even that much takes more willpower than people who’ve never had to deal with it can even grasp. It takes work, and the small internal realizations/epiphanies that can ONLY come from your brain finally creating that neural pathway to understand how to feel better. However, one cannot simply “get over it”.
There is one little phrase I always say whenever my mood plummets and I feel at my worst. When I say it, it creates a safety net, and lets me feel depressed and anxious and utterly crushed and debilitated; “This, too, shall pass”.
Seems simple and almost dismissive, but it makes a tremendous difference to know that even the harder times will pass, and in just a little while, you’ll be able to cheer up enough at least to get by. Just knowing that even the worst moments of your depression can be eventually lifted enough to recover, or even knowing that it’s not your fault; your brain is just wired that way. I say, “This, too, shall pass” because it tells me that even chronic depression can have times of joy, of laughter, or even just periods of “normalcy”.
I wish you the best of luck in coping with your depression.
There are so many comments here already, that I have no idea whether you’ll ever read mine, but I feel like I need to pipe up. I lived decades with the kind of depression you’re describing, constantly wishing I was dead (and occasionally trying to become so), and I have been treating my illness with various prescribed medications for years. But it wasn’t until I started taking Lybrel — a birth control pill which completely eliminates your period — along with my antidepressant, that everything turned around for me. Taking the antidepressant alone was like trying to bail out a boat using a teaspoon. My life is completely different now, thanks to the change in those horrid little chemicals in my brain. Something to think about, seriously.
I’ve been staring at this comment box for a few minutes now, trying to decide if my thoughts on this will be of any benefit. Take them with as many grains of salt as you see fit.
Based on my own experience, I think you’re absolutely right. I’ve dealt with depression (in more or less productive ways) since I was in middle school, and the turning point for me was when I accepted that depression isn’t something I can cure – it’s something I have to manage. It then took me a few years to figure out what strategies to use to manage it, and I’m still experimenting, but the last 2 years have been a big success by my standards. I haven’t gotten rid of it, but I’m keeping it from interfering with my job, my friendships, etc, and I find I spend a lot less time actively thinking about it.
I don’t have any reason to think that your depression is the same as mine, but for what it’s worth, here are the keys to my management strategy:
1. Eating mostly healthy food, whenever I’m hungry – I think you have this one handled.
2. Exercising frequently. Not necessarily anything strenuous, but enough to trigger some endorphin production.
3. Limiting my alcohol consumption, especially during the winter.
4. Spending time outside.
5. Setting a lot of achievable goals for myself – knitting a scarf, learning to make relish, etc. Nothing so big that I beat myself up for not doing it, but big enough that it feels like an accomplishment if I do.
6. Scheduling time for myself to mope. Often if I tell myself that I can wallow in self pity later, at the scheduled time, I can push past the oppressive sense of hopelessness during the day. Sometimes I really do use the moping time, and other times I lose interest in moping by the time it rolls around.
7. Being open with my friends and co-workers about it. Sometimes this backfires (e.g. when they try to give advice that demonstrates they have no idea what depression is like) but more often than not they’ve had some depressed friend/relative in the past, and they’ll be more compassionate when the depression creeps into those parts of my life.
8. Full spectrum lights. I’m not convinced they work, but they don’t seem to do any harm, so I keep one on my desk for dark winter mornings (and afternoons).
From your post today, I have no doubt that you’ll figure it out.
My depression responds well to Celexa; but my husband’s didn’t respond well to any of many meds, Wellbutrin even made things worse. His psychiatrist recommended trying Lamictal, which is a mood stabilizer, and that finally helped. It’s usually used for bipolar, but apparently some lucky people only get the downs and not the ups. They often show as treatment resistant to regular depression drugs.
I’ve heard that ECT can also work for treatment resistant depression, but that would scare all my waste products out of me for sure. Only you can know if that might help you more than the side effects would be bad.
I have ups and downs within the depression itself. If you do, then perhaps when you have an up time you could talk to some friends about how they can help in the down times. You may not be able to get up and do things yourself, but if you’ve arranged with a friend to prod you to go do something with her/him then that might be helpful? Or they could just come make a cup of tea and play cards with you.
Thank you for sharing this. I was diagnosed in college although I suspect my depression started at age 11. These days I’m able to manage it through lifestyle choices (no meds or therapy for a while now) but every now and then I get a tinge of feeling that makes it feel like the monster is creeping up. I can’t imagine living with it to the extent that you do. I appreciate how openly you shared this and I wish you the best as you continue to manage everything.
I know it does not necessary help to know that but… I am experiencing a similar situation right now. (I also just turned thirty, I also have depression and have had it for a long time, it also takes me a lot longer to finish my degree than it would if I would not be depressed, I also have anxiety etc.) I am however a) not as far as you are when it comes to accepting my body and b) I am pretty sure that while I most certainly have a biological predisposition there are external factors that have contributed to my depression – but that does not necessarily help that much. Oh, and I don’t have a job right now, and applying for one is extremely hard (because of fears similar to the ones you described – I am scared shitless whenever people judge me and I am usually convinced somewhere deep down that they could not possibly want me working for them anyways).
One thing I have learned, though, and that is that one can “be depressed about being depressed”. I think accepting depression as something that might not go away and thinking about how one can live with that, plus, trying not to beat oneself up if one doesn’t get everything done all the time because of being depressed are good antidotes. (But although I know that I still suck at putting it into practice.)
Anyways, all the best to you – and for the record, I think finishing your degree at all as well as working are some really big achievements.
Hi Michelle,
I’m sorry you’re dealing with this and I appreciate your sharing it with us. Since you said that you were seeking out alternative therapies, I wanted to mention a few that might be helpful for you. With my own mild depressive episodes, I’ve had good results with higher dose Omega-3 supplementation. Also, you probably know more about this than I do given your career, but a good friend of mine had undiagnosed vitamin D deficiency for years that caused a whole collection of symptoms including depression. She was also told by doctors that she was lazy, overweight, not exercising enough, etc, and that those things were causing her fatigue and depression. Once an endocrinologist finally diagnose and treated her vitamin D deficiency, she was immensely better.
Another good friend of mine swears by neurotransmitter testing and customized supplements. I haven’t done it yet but have considered it. Here’s some more information from one company that does the testing and supplements: http://www.integrativepsychiatry.net/neurotransmitter_tests.html
I’m sorry to hear about your depression, and how hard it is – as another depression sufferer, I can relate to some degree (I’m more on the dysthmic side, so I manage to look functional on the outside while I’m miserable on the inside.) And I remember the first time I took Prozac and those magical few months where I felt amazing, depression free, and how temporary it was. I came to accept being fat much more easily than accepting my depressive nature; I still sometimes feel kind of cheated when I realize that getting over my body hatred didn’t erase the chronic feelings of still being wrong.
One thing that I’ve found very helpful – that has been in no way a cure – was dialectical behavior therapy (DBT). I’d been in talk therapy a bazillion times and found it so frustrating because I have tons of insight into why I’m depressed, and how it manifests itself, but insight never seemed to provide any relief other than being able to talk in great depth about my tortured soul. For my last bout of depression, I went to a new clinic and the intake psychologist suggested a DBT therapy group. I was a little resistant because DBT is most commonly used for borderline personality disorder, and I was quite aware of the stigma attached to that diagnosis, but I was willing to give it a try. I found the focus on mindfulness, acceptance, and non-judgment really challenging – oh how I wanted to rant and rail against the unfairness of the world – but challenging in a good way. It’s definitely given me some concrete skills to come to some level of peace about my depression that I didn’t think I could reach.
I hope the suggestion is useful, and doesn’t sound like “lose depression now – ask me how!” If there’s anything I’ve learned about both FA and depression is that one size definitely does not fit all.
All the best to you.
I’m so there with you. I’ve had depression for probably most of my life, the anxiety the last couple of years. I’m eternally greatful that mine isn’t treatment resistant, but I have been through my share of anti-depressants. Just this week, we upped my dose of Gabapentin (anxiety) because I’ve been noticing that I have been “choking up” in times of crises, where before I was just fine.
Just a month or so ago, I told my psychologist, that I’ve been happy again. For the first time in about 15 years, I finally feel like I’m coming out of this depressive fog. Right now I’ve got a good mix of drugs, a decent job with a boss who understands my needs, even when I was in and out of an out-pt treatment program because I had been in the hospital overnight for thinking I wanted to kill myself.
I’m going throw my $0.02 in (for what it’s worth, which is probably about $0.02). My therapist kept wanting me to go into this thing called DBT training. It’s like CBT but for people with Borderline Personality Disorder, which thankfully I don’t have. But there are parts of the program that she felt would work for me. Mainly the acceptance of emotions part. Of course, the only place that would allow me to be in their program and continue to see my regular therapist had the program in the middle of the afternoon on a Friday and was not quite half-way across town. I would miss too much work and don’t have that much sick leave.
The therapist then had me join an online research program called Mindfulness Therapy for Anxiety. The book was okay, but it didn’t take. One day she mentioned a book called “The Mindful Way through Depression” I went and bought it and started reading it a few days later. It was amazing. It was basicall the same stuff as in the anxiety book, but detailed toward depression. It clicked, the cartoon light bulb went on over my head and I got it. I’m still not practicing the mediation, the mindfulness walking and eating, but the whole thing about realizing that these thoughts are fleeting and that the more I tried to fight “not thinking” about those thoughts, the more I thought those thoughts. I’ve noticed that even with my anxiety level rising, I was able to make it until my next p-doc appointment (close to a month after I noticed the change in my anxiety) because when I would start to get anxious, I would just breathe through the fear, remind myself that these thoughts are fleeting, these feelings are fleeting and all of this will pass in a moment. It did help tremendously. I’m kind of scared of what I’d be like if I really practiced the mindfulness program. :-)
From one Michelle to another, you are doing awesome, don’t forget that! Some days, just getting through the day is a big win and take soulace in that! :-)
I’m constantly wondering: do you Michelle, ever contemplate or dwell on the idea of mixing adventure into your goals? I realize that you have a semi-structured life plan that you have worked hard to put into motion. Now you find yourself at age 30 wondering or being afraid that maybe this is all there is? Do you wonder?
I know that sometimes if I let myself take a summeric view of my own life I can see where the same endless day to day repetition, and wrestling with ongoing social issues can hang low over a person like a dark, heavy, spooky fog. It’s scary so I don’t go there, but it’s always there, I can see it, we all do, one way or another.
Mom tried to stay ahead of it but due to the physical impairments of her age she couldn’t, as you well know. And as you know, it wasn’t always like that. At an earlier time her love of adventure kept her well ahead. And I have LEARNED that goals, adventures, things that you can look forward, things that are tangible, things that may even scare the shit out of you, sometimes putting you on life’s sharp edge can/will make a HUGE difference. Seems that anytime you find yourself mentaly counting down, tearing off one virtual link of paper chain at a time toward a goal of adventure, that you won’t have time to be concerned so much about depression. This may not cure it, but it’s one way of wrestling and dealing with it.
I’ve still got big dreams too, good ones, ones that I look forward to that spill all over the place, you & Jeff are at the nucleous of those dreams, so I depend upon them very much as goals to be fullfilled. Maybe it’s self-centered on my part maybe, but collectively all of those ideas and dreams tug at my soul and keep me going, the feeling is hard to put into words and I can only hope that some of this makes sense.
All of the feedback and support you get on this site is very genuine, you should be proud and possibly more aware of why you are here and the fact that we don’t always live just for ourselves.
There is a vast difference in being scared, and scary fastination of adventure that can totaly overwrite your true fears, cloaking your life in a manner that makes it more fullfilling and quite acceptable indeed.
PS. Do you know what I’m talking about here?
EM
I think you’re right — I really could use some more adventures in my life. There are so many things I’ve given up on, because I’ve been so focused on school or work, or just being poor. I’ve always been a bit of an adrenaline junkie (I didn’t realize how much until having conversations with Jeffrey about what either of us hypothetically would or would not ever do — stuff like going up in the Space Shuttle, sea kayaking, observing wild animals at close range, etc., and it turned out that I was always the 100% GUNG HO half of the partnership for doing anything and everything dangerous), but my life has definitely not reflected that in any tangible way. I tend to avoid doing even simple things that I know I enjoy (like swimming) because of real or imagined barriers to participation. It’s probably high time I challenged some of those barriers and reintroduced fun into my life.
So, yes, I totally know what you’re talking about. And I do believe that I have a purpose for being here, a chance to contribute to something larger than myself. To help other people — not to sound patronizing or corny — is truly the most insanely wonderful privilege I’ve ever been gifted. To be allowed into people’s confidences, to witness their struggles and hurts, to sit with them in their hardest or even their very last moments, has been extraordinary for me, something I could never quite feel I deserved to do, but have been wildly grateful for all the same — even in the modest capacity of a diet tech.
I’ll definitely be making changes along the lines you suggest, Dad. Because, in giving up the idea that maybe I can just cure this thing and live happily ever after, maybe I can have a more realistic view of my life and how to enjoy it as best I can, rather than wasting it entirely in gritted teeth and struggle.
I’m always up for activities, if you need an adrenaline junky buddy
Next week – you and me – Space Shuttle.
Let’s go.
Or, on a more practical note, is there go-cart racing somewhere nearby?
OMG, I would totally be up for that. Or failing go carts, bumper cars. Canada’s Wonderland? I wonder if the rollercoaster seats would fit us…
(((((Big, huge, total-body bear hugs)))))
Thanks for being so candid about your experience. I’m not going to offer any suggestions on how to cope, because god help me, I have no earthly idea.
I know how much it sucks when a miracle drug that’s so amazing for a while just peters out. I have narcolepsy, and tried Provigil and WOW it worked SO WELL… for less than a year. Jeez, it was crushing. At first I thought it was going to change my life! I was practically cured! All the things I couldn’t do before were no longer going to be a problem! Then, blah. It was like I hadn’t taken it at all. I’m back to not driving anywhere farther than 5 minutes from home, and not being able to make it through a 30-minute TV show, and 3 hour afternoon naps without which I literally could not function.
I’ve also struggled with major depressive disorder my entire life. Refused to take antidepressants until I was in my late 20′s. Wellbutrin worked pretty well, although I didn’t really love the side effects. For some reason (*cough* denial) I stopped taking that, then when it became obvious that I needed to go back on some kind of medication for my depression, all the drugs my doctor suggested I try had horrific side effects. Side effects that were actually worse than spending my days ranging from numb to wishing I were dead. Next week I’m going to talk to my doctor about trying Wellbutrin again. I fully expect her to push one of the newer drugs on me. Ugh.
I will be thinking of you. Take care of yourself.
Thanks for your honest testimonial, it meant a lot to me. I’ve been dealing with depression for some years now and it took a really long time to find the right medicine, as well the dosage. I’ve been doing therapy too, wich I love, and I has been helping a lot. Each case is different, but what I’ve learned form mine, is that the harder I fought with it, the harder it came.
So, about a year ago , even wih medicine and theraphy I wasn’t happy! So I decided to stop fighting it, I gave in: I’m still using the medicine and doing theraphy, but I decided not to fight what I was feeling. To do so I’ve been avoiding to engage in a lot of commitments, only the inevitable ones. One of my reactions to my depression was doing like a milion things althogheter, things that I liked, or that would be good for me, etc… but the relief it’s only temporary.
When I saw that doing things wasn’t the answer, I was able to feel my pain, and to be with myself. When you are a depressed person the world is grey, and even the smallest things hurt. And we kinda want, desperately, to see the world in different colors. But, at some point I decided that I wanted to accept my grief, my grayness, I wanted to be at home in my pajamas, I accepted the fact that I was not interested in anything and anyone. And then, but accepting that, my sorrow and also that I really needed time to do so, I started to feel better and to deal with that part of me that I’ve been trying to get rid of for so long. So, I kinda said to my depression: bring it on!!! And it did, and it was the best thing that I ever did. I know that is seems painful , and it really is, but accepting your depression, dealing with it, setting some limits for now (in a way that you respect the fact that for now you can’t do certain things) probably will be the best for you. I hope sincerely that you can accept that part of yourself and by that, eventually, you will see the word in grey and also some other colors. If you ever need to talk, email me. Wish you all the best, Patricia
And honestly, to all the commenters who aren’t my friends and/or family — can I just say that you are the sweetest, nicest people ever? I appreciate your stories and suggestions so much that I don’t even really know what to say. Just know that I am taking it all in and feeling very…supported. (Even though that kind of sounds like a line from a bra commercial.)
I just wanted to offer my heartfelt thanks for this post. It resonates with me in so many ways, and also offers me some hope. Only this year have I faced the existence of my depression, which I now realise I have had for probably ten years or so. I am just starting down the road of trying different medications to help this (so far all they are doing is causing constant jaw-cracking yawning) and working with a therapist to try and understand the why of it all. One thing I have realised though, is that, like you, my black dog has been… if not a barrier, an obfuscation to my dreams and goals. I always wanted to be a doctor, but through a fear of shame and failure, and perhaps even success, I chose science. It took me what felt like forever to finish my degree, and I hated every minute of it. (Surprise, surprise, I hate being a scientist…)
I also wanted to thank Ellis Manifold for his wonderful comment. It caused something in my brain to click. All year I have been toying with the idea of entering myself the coming summer’s triathlon season, but am afraid of ridicule for being a fat, slow chick and of failing or making a fool of myself. However, EM has made me realise that I need adventure and goals in my life, and perhaps that will make the bad feel less bad.
So fuck it. Look out (far behind you) Melbourne triathletes, I’m going to be plodding along behing you. And fuck it. When (not if) I (eventually) finish my Masters in nutrition, I’m going to apply for medicine.
Thank you Michelle and Ellis Manifold for your posts, and all the best Michelle.
You’re awesome, Kira. Best of luck in your adventures.
Thanks for this post. You articulated the experience of depression so well – especially “the anvil of utter suck”.
Best wishes.
This is an interesting situation that I struggled with myself for 16 years… I went into a therapists office at the age of 12, and until I was 28 (last year) I never responded to treatment for the depression that was diagnosed at 12,16, and 22. It turned out that the depression was secondary, a reaction (consequence), to an underlying issue. Two handfuls of therapists were not able to see beyond the simple diagnosis to find what was really wrong… who doesn’t respond to Zoloft, Wellbutrin, Serzone, Prozac (a bit of a fading response), or various combinations of it- someone who isn’t innately depressed?? I found that the oversimplification, and the inability to look past too much sleeping, and weight gain made it impossible for a mental health professional to see that with a different course of treatment, depression would not exist for me PERIOD.
After finding a therapist who pulled my symptoms apart, and separated the depression assumption from the rest of everything else… THEN we were able to treat what was really going on.
I said all of this because I went into a treatment program about 1 1/2 years ago, and found some other people who were at a breaking point because they had been treated for “depression” when it was RESULT of another disorder/issue below the obvious… It is fairly common, I guess, for a person to be diagnosed as depressed, and then when it shows resistance to therapy, meds, etc… considered “treatment resistant”.
Whatever the true nature of your own struggles are- I encourage you to push on. I understand how “fighting” can be like trying to walk through a wall, but maybe there is a different way to approach it… like coping with a missing limb… living WITH it, and in spite of it. I am pretty sure that was the essence of the end of your post. There are a lot of people out there who feel your pain.
That’s actually really interesting, and something I will be looking into as well. I need to get a physical to make sure I don’t have any underlying physical issues that could be causing this.
As for therapists, etc., you know what they say — if your only tool is a hammer, everything begins to look like a nail. But I’m glad you got it sorted out eventually.
Hi Michelle,
You’ve gotten a lot of suggestions on things to try and I hope you’ll be okay with one more.
I suffer from PMDD (extreme PMS). My symptoms are/were 2 full weeks of depression and anxiety prior to my period. Then two okay “normal” weeks before the cycle started again. The rollercoaster of it was exhausting and depressing.
This year, I discovered that my anxiety/depression and PMDD symptoms are triggered by dairy products and alcohol. Alcohol depresses me for a week – regardless how little or how much I have. Dairy products trigger mode swings, anxiety, rapid thoughts, fixating thoughts, depression, anger, – all kinds of unmanageable mental reactions occur. Why? My body has a sensitivity to chemical imbalances. It needs all the vitamins/nutrients it has to make the brain chemicals to keep me balanced. When I eat trigger foods, those nutrients are taken away to try to compensate for the imbalance caused from those foods.
I knew I was lactose intolerant but the physical reactions I had to dairy were tolerable for the enjoyment of dairy products. It never occurred to me that a food intolerance/sensitivity can trigger mental symptoms.
Prior to giving up dairy and alcohol (and I wasn’t a big drinker to begin with), I considered going back on Zoloft because I was tired of the little response I got from therapy and exercise alone. Now I don’t ever feel like I need it. I have bad days but I can feel the emotional strength I have to handle it. And the emotional high I had the first two weeks off dairy were similar to what you described above on the drug you were on.
Reading your post, “Eating – the WHAT or the HOW?” I thought you might be open to the suggestion that a food intolerance/sensitivity might be an underlying cause of the degree of your symptoms. I would suggest you look closer at how your body reacts to specific foods. For PMDD – major triggers are dairy and wheat intolerances. If your body is fighting the food you eat, it makes sense it wouldn’t have the resources to make you feel good.
I can’t have any dairy or alcohol. And it sucks. I miss cheese (pizza) and wine terribly and eating out isn’t as much fun. But I’ve experimented and even something with just a little butter in it, makes me have rapid thoughts and anxiety. I avoid it all – including hidden dairy. The trade off is I’ve been PMDD symptom free (for the most part) for 10 months now. I’ve managed an awful winter and major cross-country move without melting down at all.
I exercise 4x a week and city live, so I walk a lot. The book “Spark” inspired me to do that for my brain as well – and I recommend it, highly.
I also practice the self acceptance you speak of. When so much of our energy is spent monitoring how we feel it’s so easy to lose perspective on what’s “normal.” Normal people get sad. Normal people get anxious. Normal people get angry. And sometimes we feel that way for no reason at all and shouldn’t always figure out the why. Navel-gazing can be so exhausting sometimes. Somedays just letting ourselves be who we are that day is the kindest thing to do.
I have never experienced depression to the degree you describe above. I wish you all the best in your continued journey.
G
Very interesting! I appreciate your insight. Food sensitivites are, indeed, something for me to consider.
Out of curiosity, how did you discover exactly what your sensitivities were? Did you try an elimination diet or get some form of testing?
I tried an elimination diet. http://www.cyclediet.com to be specific. An RD designed the program. All the info is on the web site. I was super strict from the beginning with the no alcohol, no dairy, since I knew from a prior elimination diet of my dairy sensitivity and I had already discovered the alcohol trigger depression a few months prior. Giving up alcohol didn’t make me feel better/just avoided feeling worse. Giving up the dairy made a huge difference. And once I felt what good/balanced felt like, I discovered that alcohol depressed me for a full week/not just a day or two after. For the most part, it was being aware when I had alcohol/dairy and monitoring how I felt for a few days after.
Very interesting! Thanks for the additional details. I find this kind of thing fascinating.
I know this is somewhat off-topic, but I wanted to say thank you for using the term “disabled” to describe mental illness and neurological problems. I have ADD and a psycho-somatic disorder that manifests by causing me to hit myself in the head when I’m feeling particularly negative or overwhelmed. Actually naming depression as a disability is radical and makes me feel less negative about my university experience and feels less patronizing than the term “learning disability”. Learning has never been my problem, keeping my eye on the prize and paying attention to a subject I have no interest in is. So it took me six years to get a four year degree because, for me,the difference between actually passing classes is a puzzling pastiche of the professor’s personality and whether I enjoy the class. Not enjoying a class has caused me to fail at that class nine times out of ten because if I’m not excited about the subject, it’s hard for me to focus on it or do the work for that class. Being ADD in a university lacking in intuitive thinkers and others with ADD has made me doubt my intelligence and self-worth to the point where comments complimenting my intelligence surprise and please me.
So back to the point which was to say that thinking about the ADD and the hitting myself in the head problem as a disability makes me feel better. It makes me feel like I’m part of a community and it makes me feel kinder towards myself. It encourages me to cut myself a break and to be patient with myself. Having a “learning disability” makes me impatient, angry, and unkind. Maybe because of a good solid public school education when someone says “learning disability” I hear “stupid” and “dull” and “weird”. So thank you.
Hear, hear.
“causing me to hit myself in the head when I’m feeling particularly negative or overwhelmed”
This is one of the ways my anxiety manifests. I cannot count the number of times I’ve had to make up an excuse for the bumps on my head just so that my guidance counselor won’t tell me yet more times to “just pick yourself up.” Or that I “can’t deal with things in a mature way.” I wish she would not use the word “mature;” it carries with it a connotation of “just grow up.”
I’ve always kind of wondered if mental disabilities are “real” disabilities. It felt damn like a disability to me! But all around me, people deny the reality I have to face every single day. And it feels wonderful to hear mental disorders described as disabilities.
Hi Michelle–
I was thinking about this post last night. I’ve struggled with both disordered eating/body issues and depression since preadolescence. The two conditions are inextricably linked for me. And I’ve been paralyzed by both, and thought and talked and written extensively about both, sought all sorts of different kinds of treatments and tried who-knows-how-many fixes for both. I’ve been exhausted by both.
I identify so much with what you write about nutrition and food issues, and now I identify with this. So: I hear you. I get how hard it is. And I’m pulling for you.
I just wanted to say you sound a lot stronger than you seem to think you are. Fighting gets like that. I reckon you can get to a place where you *live* with it. All right, sometimes more around it but it’s no less *life* than everybody else gets. Is it different? Sure. But that isn’t necessarily such a horrible thing, in and of itself.
If you’re fighting, struggling, suffering from it then that’s a very hard rock to budge. In fact, you may as well change your name to Sisyphus and be done with it. Heaven knows, I speak from experience on that one,
Living instead — Well, it’s a big mental cliff and you kind of have to throw yourself off it from time to time to see what’s out there. Sometimes you crash and burn. That goes with the territory either way but at least with the intention of living you get to see the possibilities that really are there.
Finding them for yourself, for the life you want and need is terribly important. No one should have to miss out on that experience just because some doctors and a lot of society likes little boxes, schemas and . What ‘treatment resistant’ doesn’t cover is the fact that people are dynamic and resourceful beyond belief if they’re only allowed to get to know it for themselves.
I have had Type I Diabetes for 27 years and feel this chronic condition has given me so much that is positive. It has shaped my life, helped me be who I am, a tough, mouthy, broad. No complication of this condition can minimize the truth of that.
Being fat is a part of me, and usually I don’t feel one way or another about it.
I’ve been treated for chronic depression since 2003. Sometimes drugs have helped, same with therapy. But I do not like it. I feel all the good things that I am are smothered by depression, it doesn’t feel like me, it doesn’t feel like part of me.
All that me me me me me is a long route to the short statement that I hear what you are saying loud and clear, and I so, so wish it could be different for you. But I am also so, so amazed and impressed at what you are saying. Finding a way to accept and cope is something I haven’t been willing to consider. I am blown away at how courageous you are for starting down that road.
Random stranger here writing to say that “EM” is right. We don’t live our lives for only ourselves…and I wanted to let you know that your honesty about your past war with your body, and your most recent blog about depression has touched me deeply. Just think, how the world has progressed, and how lucky we are, in our thirties to at least be able to communicate with one another here about these demons. Think of the generations of women before us, who suffered, in silence, or were chastised for their “disabilities,” real or perceived? Thank you, Michelle, for taking your pain and turning it into a light for others (right now, for me, on a dark night).