4/25/18

     Through the journey of depression at this point in my life, David and I are having a lot of conversations.  I'm trying to cope, absolutely.  But I'm also trying to learn all I can about depression in general and about my depression. 

     A recent discussion lead me to the realization that I cannot place the trigger on Dad's illness, Dad's death, or the lose of the farm job afterward.  The trigger came from working at an animal shelter.  Until I began at the shelter I was accepting and respecting my grief, while it would consume me for  few moments, I was able to release it once it had washed over me.  I began working at the shelter four months after Dad had passed.  I should have known not to jump into something so utterly consuming so shortly afterward.  I should have known to continue to give my grief it's own time.  But hindsight is 20/20 as they say.

     Let me walk you through the day of a shelter worker.  You are constantly on the move, constantly working.  And with short staff you sometimes come in an hour early.  So my days often went something along the lines of coming in early (7am), feeding dogs or cats (depending on what I was on at the time), cleaning dog kennels or cat cubbies before 11 when we had an hour lunch, because we opened to the public at noon.  Now finishing cleaning by 11 was nearly impossible, and once we got pop-ups there was no way to finish by 11.  When David and I did the math, we realized at the earliest, with having no recleans which didn't happen, we'd be done by 12:30.  After lunch we'd either keep checking the cleaning or we worked up front.  And at night we did a last check and fed the animals.  Often we'd be out 30 minutes to an hour later.  This doesn't sound so bad.  Until you start to realize the emotional toll.  On a good day, we'd get five animals adopted out.  And on a normal day, ten to fifteen animals were being brought in either by surrender, animal control, people bringing strays in, etc.  Point being more animals were entering a already full facility then exiting.  Animals were also constantly sick, and it made me worry.  In a job like this, you wouldn't think you'd bring it home.  But I did.  My worry, my problem solving to make things quicker but still effective, the ideas I had to encourage my fellow employees, and a lot of times my own sickness that I couldn't seem to get over completely.  Because this job consumed me, I put my grief aside.  The third of each month would come, I'd listen to a song that reminded me of Dad on the car ride to work and cry for a minute, pull myself together and walk into work.  And that was it.  I went from allowing my grief time every few days, to taking five minutes a month (if that). 

     There are a myriad of reasons why I left.  But it cannot be ignored that my health was declining fast.  And I didn't care.  I was too focused on the job to care about myself.  Once I left, the two weeks that had Christmas and New Years felt amazing.  I felt a weight lift.  But then reality set in, and I was overwhelmed by the grief I hadn't allowed for five months.  And I was overwhelmed by the fact that my health was on a downward spiral.  And I was overwhelmed by how low I began to feel.  How hard it was to lift myself into a positive mood. 

     So here is something I've learned about myself, about my journey to having depression and the next step to getting better.  I was deeply sad after losing my father and after losing a job I loved.  But my depression was not triggered by these, it was triggered by adding a hopeless job on top of a grieving period.  And, even more so with someone who seeks validation and worth from others, and even more so with someone who will always have anxiety to some extent or another, even more so for someone who has the potential of becoming depressed especially after a time of losing someone so dear to their heart, they need to protect themselves.  No one should put themselves completely on the back burner.  And especially someone who is dealing with all of this.  Self care, no matter how cliche it sounds, is hugely important.  And letting someone know and letting someone help in that care is hugely important too. 

     I will heal.  I'm already in a good process and stepping closer and closer to that healing.  This will make me a stronger and better person.  The shelter taught me lessons that I will always be grateful for and it taught me how tough I am.  With this healing, I am learning things about myself and about the choices I've made thus far and what roles they play. 

4/16/18

      A few months ago David and I had to take a step back and realize that my anxiety is partnered with depression that only appeared after dealing with everything with Dad's sickness and Dad's death.  Now, this is not to be confused with the grief and sadness I felt and feel, because that deserves its own time and place.  Dad was my second best friend next to David.  He was  man I spent 5 of 7 days a week for seven years with.  We were very close.  Therefore, my grief and my depression should not be confused.

     That being said, I feel I've spoken enough words about my grief (and will probably still in the future) to explain exactly what it is.  This is about what I've learned and what I am learning from this journey that is depression.

     That is my first point.  I am a Riley through and through, and learning is something I eventually embraced.  When I broke down in tears and felt anger and felt worthless and David and I had a discussion and pinpointed that I, in fact, have the great combination of anxiety (which is fairly under control) and depression, we began discussing the next steps.  I'll go through that in a bit.  Back to my point of learning though.  Through our discussion, we decided my next step was to learn.  To read some, or a good bit about depression.  To almost study depression.  Which, me having it aside, is a fascinating subject.  As is anxiety.  I plan to read more.  I plan to learn more.  It helps me focus and it helps me feel some control over something that I don't have much control over.

     Second point and stuff I've learned, the things that are important to know and to ask when depression decides to show up.

1) First question David asked, and anyone should ask when someone says they are depressed.  Are you suicidal/ do you have a plan?  This is no joke, if someone has a plan you call the hospital!  In my case, this isn't the case.  While suicide means depression, depression does not always mean suicidal.  A feeling of complete worthlessness does not mean suicidal.
2) This was "do you need to see a counselor?"  This was up to me.  And at the moment I felt equipped being able to talk things out with David to not.  But at any point I do, we will get there.
3) What is the next step.  In my case, learning.  Reading.  And being able to come to David and say "today is not a good day.  I'm feeling depressed".

     Some other things about me and how I'm feeling/dealing:
- I don't always feel low.  In fact, I often have good days.  I'm often happy.
- I am tired a lot though, and am trying to do things to improve upon that.  I am laying down earlier and (surprisingly) passing out quickly.  I have given up soda.  I try to exercise as much as I can during the week to get my happy chemicals (serotonin, etc) up.  I drain quick with people.  Which is true because I'm an introvert, but depression amplifies it.
- I get irritable easily.  Little things annoy me.  And little things add up to make me lose it sometimes and end up in tears for hours.  Spinning in circles.
- My worth has a lot to do with when I begin to feel my depression.  I put a lot of stock into my worth in my job as a farmer.  So to find something, walk away for the sake of my health, and to get nothing for months has felt awful.  And I've had to work to realize that isn't what makes me a worthwhile person.
- I have a person in my life (David) who has dealt with depression in different ways his whole life and that is a blessing for me.  He takes care of me.  He knows that this may all seem illogical, but it still is there.  He will talk things out with me.  He will hug me.  He will motivate me, or help me figure out some way in which to cope, he'll buy me ice cream.  He is who and what I need right now.  He has always been my rock in hard times, and this is no different.  He is my person who I can talk to about anything and everything and that is all I need.
- I am still me.  I am more subdued, certainly.  But that may be something that just comes with my age and my introvertedness.  No matter the sufferings in my life, I still love to help, and I still feel as if that is part of my calling.  Part of who I am.  If I can't acknowledge my own pain, suffering, sadness, and hardships of life and then make them into something that can help, I am no longer Sarah.  There is no need to worry for me.  While I may have allowed the cleaning of my house to become a ever two weeks thing, I have not stopped caring about me.  I am striving to do things to reclaim my sleep.  I am working to being how I was about exercise before.  I am spending time doing things I love like binging Netflix with my husband (when we have time) or laying in bed with my puppies.  I am reaching out to friends, just to chat.  To see how they are because I care about what's going on in their lives.  My depression is not a death keel, it is not a plea for help.  It is acknowledging that sometimes life throws strange things at you at the strangest of times.  It is acknowledging that sometimes I'm not going to feel amazing happy, and that's ok.  I'm still ok, even if my brain chemistry is a little wonky now.  It is to let you all know I'll still get my life taken care of, I'll still do what I need to do.  But to let you all know that if I sink into myself for a bit of time, if David and the dogs are all I want interaction with, it isn't anything on the outside.  It isn't you.  It's me dealing with me.  It's me recharging me.  It's to let you all know that if I come off way more harsh then everyone has come to expect of me, it's because right now (though nothing to be ashamed of) my chemical makeup has decided to change the slightest bit.

     I am not ashamed of this.  And I'm not against answering questions if anyone has any.  I figured I'd just be as transparent as possible on what is going on with me.


   

3/27/18

         It's only Tuesday, but this week feels like it will run a bit smoother then last week.  I almost couldn't get my feet under me last week and felt I was spinning out.  This week (despite it being only Tuesday) I have made small adjustments to make things easier and to realize I am being productive. 

        Last night I seemed to have fallen asleep about 11, only thirty minutes after laying down.  And woke up just briefly when David came to bed about thirty more minutes later.  But I think that was because I'd been awake since 7:30 am after passing out at 1 am the night before.  I woke up with David again this morning because I need the car.  And I'm tired and may need a second cup of coffee, but I feel like I'm in a fairly good mood.

         This isn't beautiful.  But some days my writing is.  At least it's down on paper, and that helps me sort my mind out and get right for the day.

3/25/18

          Closing my eyes, my mind still ran in circles.  One giant circle, with dozens, maybe hundreds of smaller circles whizzing around it.  Why is my scalp so dry?  Why is my hair so healthy while my scalp is so dry?  My leg stings.  Why can I feel my heartbeat in my stomach, in my chest, and in my wrist?  Why does my heartbeat seem so fast?  My watch says my heart rate is low/normal.  I wish it were warmer, it's too cold to wear dresses.  But I can't wear pants because my tattoo still stings.

        I left a job in December because I was constantly sick.  When I went to my Doctor she gave me a prescription for a relaxer type medicine.  It's usually used to help with anxiety (which is all well and good too, because that's part of my life as well).  But she gave it to me specifically because I wasn't able to fall asleep and when I did I was still always exhausted.  Well, here we are at the end of March and I've only used it a handful of times, trying instead to read, or stop drinking caffeine a few hours before bed, or putting down the phone, or turning off the tv.  And sometimes I actually do pass out when my head hits the pillow, but most nights I don't.  Most nights I'm still so wired, I'm still thinking of everything that my brain doesn't take the hint to sleep.  And the times I've taken the medicine I think it helps.  It certainly keeps me calm, but it doesn't knock me out, which is kind of what I hope for.  A chloroform of types if we want to be dramatic.  The bottle says one to two pills, but I've only ever taken one for fear of not waking up at the right time the next morning.  I have this paranoid worry I'll konk out so hard with that extra pill that I'll sleep all through the night and right on into the next day.  Yet, I still long for an ambien.  My brain is conflicted.

         More so then even not falling asleep until one in the morning, I still wake up at 7:30 when David's up for work.  Sometimes I manage to 8.  And on the days I sleep until 9 (since I don't go into work until 10:30) I feel like I could sleep for another week, and that I need to because I'm just exhausted.

         I'm not sure where along the lines I began to have these insomniatic tendencies, but here I am.  Somehow growing up, I'm equal parts better for it and equal parts becoming full of holes.  Maybe that's adulthood though.  And maybe my midnight ramblings will see some beauty.