Coming out of the dark

This is a post that's been floating around in my head for a couple months. I realized I haven't written anything here for a bit, and while I'm feeling worn down and worn out, writing may help me relax and recharge.

One of my greatest fears, for as long as I can remember, has been losing my sanity. It's something I will joke about, like everyone does, but underneath it is always a thread of actual concern. Mental instability runs in the female side of my family. I understand that it is caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain, but that doesn't make it any less scary.

This is something that I've talked to my husband about several times over the years. We agreed early in our marriage that if he tells me I need to go to the doc for something involving mental stability, I will go and get it checked, whether I want to or not. It's the one place where I can't be sure if I'm seeing clearly or not.


For years, I've felt my moods cycle. I ride the highs, and weather the lows, knowing that  they will both pass. I asked a doctor(?) (Counselor maybe?) about these once, and was told that everyone's moods cycle, and it sounded normal, and that part of it was just that I was in a deadline-driven career field (while I was studying to be a Paralegal.) So, I didn't worry about it much, and just continued managing the ups and downs as well as I could.

I know that my moods are sensitive to the weather and to light levels. I put full-spectrum light bulbs in my house, especially during the winter, to help with seasonal mood swings. I know that if the weather is grey and cloudy I'll tend to be more tired, so I work on just pushing through it.

I am used to this. I watch and manage my moods...so how did depression sneak up on me? Why did I not notice that the moods weren't swinging back up? Why didn't anyone else?

The answer to the last question is easy. I didn't let anyone else see it. I didn't want to burden anyone when they had their own problems. I didn't really let myself see it, either, which probably answers the first two.

Depression is sneaky, and scary. It's like being in an emotionally abusive relationship, but your brain is the abuser.

People in abusive relationships will make excuses for their abusers. I was making excuses for my moods. I didn't want to burden anyone else with the way I was feeling. I felt silly for not being able to deal with the things I should have been able to do. I didn't even really realize that my reactions weren't reasonable. "I'm just tired" became the equivalent to "I ran into a door".

For months, it felt like I was pushing through mud to get anything done. I thought maybe I had just over-scheduled myself, and that may have been part of it, but not all. I just wanted to hide under a blanket and make the world go away for a while so I could relieve the internal pressure. Hiding under a blanket didn't help, though, because there were always people who needed things from me, and I hated the fact that I might disappoint them, so I pushed a little harder and gave a little more, even when I felt like I didn't have anything left to give.

I started making excuses to not go do things that I usually enjoyed, like dancing. When I did go, I didn't have as much fun as I usually would have, and often found a reason to leave early. I felt physically off-balance, without being able to specify that as the problem, but I couldn't follow the lead as easily. I told myself that I was just out of practice.

Last February, I fell down a rabbit hole. Literally. This isn't some obscure Alice in Wonderland reference...I actually DID fall down a rabbit hole (with much less grace than Alice ever exhibited) and I sprained my hand. (Technically, I broke it, but it was just a tiny chip that broke off, and it took a couple months before that was found, so as far as I knew I just sprained it.) Still, after falling, I didn't head home/to the doc right away. I was determined to finish the walk with my family, since it was supposed to be a nice, fun family outing in the snow. I cried with frustration because I should have known the hole was there, and that I didn't have any proper snow clothes, because I'd gained enough weight over the last few years that none of my old stuff fit anymore. (That's another part of the story, which may or may not be told here.)

I ended up crying with frustration that I was too "fat" to fit into any of my proper winter clothes. This should have been a clue for me...I have said for years that "fat" is a frame of mind, and "overweight" is a state of a body. I have often been overweight, but only once or twice have been "fat".

Go forward a few months to the end of May. This time, while walking Daisy on one of the "fairy paths" that I've loved for the last few years - I roll my ankle. I'm used to turning my ankle a bit, and recovering quickly, so I continued walking, rolling it a couple more times before I finally get home an hour or so later. Then, the longer I sit, the worse the ankle feels. Sure enough...it's sprained...but of course I didn't make it to the doctor to confirm that for a couple days.

I hate feeling fragile - either emotionally or physically. Now I was both. My hand still hurt from the rabbit hole, and now my ankle was weak...adding to the sense of uselessness. I was falling behind completing the orders I had taken from people to make bags etc., especially since the ankle I had sprained was the one that works the foot pedal on my sewing machine. Feelings of failure and frustration were building up...along with the impending move back to the states, and knowing that I had limited time to get everything done. (Where was that blanket for me to hide under?)

I didn't really tell anyone about any of these feelings. Why would I? Who would I tell? Everyone else had their own problems to be worrying about, and I didn't really have anyone I felt I could show weakness around. Yes, I know now that I have friends who would have gladly let me lean on them, but at the time, I couldn't see it. Phil was so emotionally drained from work that I didn't want to add to his problems, and he was looking forward to the move back to the states (once we realized it was inevitable), so I didn't want to ruin his excitement by telling him how absolutely terrified I was. I broke down at lunch with him one day, crying my eyes out, because I finally couldn't hide it anymore...but we still didn't link that to any deeper, lingering issue. (In fact, I hadn't linked it into the rest of this until just now when I typed it.)

I have always been a strong person. I can do just about anything. While I may have an initial negative reaction to new/frustrating circumstances, I can usually get past that fairly quickly and find a way around the problem. Suddenly (it seemed, though it had obviously been building for months) I wasn't able to handle much of anything.

Less than a week before the girls and I were set to fly to New Hampshire, everything came to a head. (We're in late August now, by the way.) I was laying in bed talking to Phil and started bawling...tears streaming down my face, with giant sobs wracking my entire body. I was absolutely terrified of being alone in a new place for two months. (Blanket! Where was that Blanket!) I didn't know how to deal with meeting new people. I didn't want to be lonely, but was scared of the unknown people. I felt trapped.

The next morning, I was talking to a friend online, explaining about the night before, when he asked "What happened. This isn't the you I know." That stopped me. He was right. It wasn't me. I had never been that afraid of everything. While a bit of anxiety about moving was normal, my reaction was well beyond the realm of reasonable reactions.

I thought for a bit, and did a bit of research online. Sure enough, I was seeing symptoms of depression if I looked back at how I had been feeling/acting over the last few months. It was less than a week before I would by flying to the states, so I figured a doc wouldn't start me on new meds anyway, and I thought I'd try some herbal remedies to see if they helped.

I told Phil that I thought depression might be part of the problem, and he told me to call the doc and try to get in. Well...even though I hadn't planned on it, depression counted in the mental instability category, so I called. Surprisingly, I got an appointment for that day.

When I got to the doc, I started explaining to her, very rationally, that my emotional response to moving felt out of proportion, and that it felt like I was pushing through mud to do anything...and I started crying. Damnit! I didn't want to cry in front of a stranger. I wasn't some weak, fragile creature that cries at the drop of a hat! Except...I was...and the frustration from that made me cry even more. (Not the wracking sobs this time, just a steady stream of tears that wouldn't stop falling.)

I'm glad I got a female doc that time. Breaking down like that in front of a male doctor would have been even worse. The doc gave me a prescription for an antidepressant that I'd been on in the past (for chronic, horrible PMS). She also gave me some anti-anxiety meds, telling me to take them before bed so I would relax enough to fall asleep, since she said I probably hadn't been sleeping well lately, and she was right. It was a horrible circle where depression and anxiety made it hard to sleep, but then the lack of sleep made the depression and anxiety even worse.

Now that I had a name for what had been going on, and a plan to fix it, things got a bit brighter. Just knowing that it wasn't all in my head (well, it was, but not in a way that I could just wish away) I felt better. Phil noticed it that night when he got home. I was able to start relaxing a bit right away, because I knew I didn't have to fight against myself to hold myself together anymore.

I've seen multiple postings online about how "depression doesn't mean you're weak; it means you've been having to be too strong for too long", and about how hard it is to have an "invisible illness". I didn't understand how true those were until I was there. It's even worse when you don't realize that you have an "invisible illness", and you don't know to ask the questions.

Here's what's probably the scariest part of the whole scenario - I was probably suffering from depression for months, and no one noticed. Not even me. No one who saw me on on a regular basis realized or commented on the fact that I was pulling farther and farther away from everyone. I always had a reason - or excuse - to not go do something social, so bit by bit I stopped seeing the people who might have noticed a problem. I hid the problems I was having from everyone who I did see on a regular basis. I was cheerful around people...so how could I be depressed? (This goes along with the "You're too outgoing to be an Introvert!"...but that's a blog for another time.) I was closing myself off from everyone, and putting out "unapproachable" vibes.

A bit of research showed me that depression affects physical balance as well as mental/emotional balance. That explains a lot - why the ground kept literally coming out from beneath me. That rabbit hole. The fairy path. It also explains why, even before I hurt my ankle (which still isn't fully recovered), I was having trouble dancing. I didn't feel steady on my own feet. I was off-balance, and couldn't feel the subtle changes in the lead that I should have been able to perceive.

So now, a few months later, I'm doing better. Not "cured" by any sense, but better. Frustrations still build up, and I still want to hide under that blanket sometimes...but I'm not terrified. I feel fairly steady on my feet, most of the time, and can at least recognize (I think) when I'm not. I'm not hiding from myself anymore. I'm asking for help when I need it, and I'm making friends that I think I'll be able to cry in front of if necessary. Friends that I'm not as afraid to show weakness in front of. Friends who I know will understand that even a strong person is weak sometimes, and just needs a little support until they can stand on their own again.

There's a light at the end of the tunnel, even if it flickers sometimes.