my new challenge (too long as usual) .... spoiler ... brief talk of suicide

[Guest guest]

Well, went to my therapist appointment today. I walked in feeling really

sad. I left more depressed than when I went in. She wants me to do a whole

bunch of things that I don't feel strong enough to do. I know I have to try

to do what she suggests - I would most seriously doubt I'm her first patient

with severe clinical depression - but the whole idea threw me into an even

deeper funk than I was feeling when I went in.

We talked about a ton of things. And to be very fair, she listened very

carefully. A couple of times she pointed out that until we get the meds

going right, things are going to feel hellish. There's no way in the

universe that I should fall into the trap of thinking I'm a screw up for not

being able to pull myself up by the bootstraps here. Her words. She said

that it was pretty darn obvious that if I could I would, so that was that

for that.

I see the pdoc tomorrow and she would be talking with him about me before my

appointment, but suggested that he may well push the Manerix dose up one

more notch, to maximum. In addition, she was planning to ask him what he

thought about another round of ECTs, as she was of the mind that it may be

necessary.

We talked about my dependence on this list (her words). I believe she

understood how much it means to me having you guys to talk to, but she

really believes that as long as I stay this focussed on my depression for

this many hours a day (and according to the log I've kept of what I do all

day for the past week, I spend about 6 hours a day reading and writing and

chatting on depression), it will be that much harder to come up out of my

hole.

Distraction is the key, she felt. There was a post I regrettably deleted,

but I believe it was in response to Lee's post, where somebody talked about

the importance of having friends who understand, both depressives and

non-depressives. That's what Virginia was talking about today. She

believes that my complete neglect of all my " normal " friends, who by the

way, have plenty of problems and nowhere near perfect lives, which is

probably why I do like them, will not only risk losing them, but will make

my recovery harder. She thinks I need to spend a little more time with

them. She realizes I find it really hard to be with people now, and

suggested short visits of an hour or two max.

I've become very isolationist. I have trouble making the effort to talk to

people. I guess that's why she suggested limiting my efforts to short

bursts. She wants me to get out, spend time with friends, do things and be

with people again. And have conversations a little more personal than just

with the checkout gal at the supermarket. I need to do more inside the

house than just chores too. She wants me to read, to do fun things.

Honestly, I don't know if I can do all the things she wants me to do,

including spending less than 6 hours a day on my computer (!), but if I

don't try to do what she says then what are my chances at all? I begged her

at one point to just please fix me, and it was kind of discouraging to hear

that beyond them playing with my meds til they get them working well, I have

to fix me. It's not like I didn't know that already, really, but this is

one bitch of a depression I'm in and I'm not even at a point yet where I see

the purpose in even bothering.

Intellectually, I know it's stupid to sit here and whine " I can't do it. "

I'll never get anywhere ever if I do, but I really think she's throwing far

too much at me. Maybe she's throwing this much at me so that if I manage

just a few things I'll feel like I've at least tried, and she really only

wanted that much anyway. Does that sound too manipulative? I'd hate for

her to be sneaky and manipulative.

I told her that I felt so smothered in this depression, without even a

window to open to let light and air in. She actually laughed. She said she

liked the description, and asked me if it was that I just couldn't find the

window or if it was that I didn't believe there were any windows. That was

a good question, I thought. I told her I kind of believed there was a

window, but I was losing faith. She told me not to. She promised me there

was a window, and that she would help me find it. I would be able to open

it one day, but that journey would be slow and hard. I was to simply learn

to accept the slowness and pain, that it was regrettably part of the

process, and to hold on to the belief that it would happen for me.

We talked about the fact that I think about suicide daily. She asked me all

the hows and whys: do I have plans, what would I do, did I think there was a

real risk of it happening like this week. I answered as honestly as I

could - yes, I know what I would do, but no I didn't know when. She asked

me what was holding me back. I almost laughed at her at this one. What a

question! I told her it was my kids. I felt too guilty. I guess she

decided that I wasn't much of a risk after all, because she came back with

the advice that next time I start thinking about suicide, I was to find

something to do to get distracted. Give my mind something else to dwell on.

This was all so bizarre. I mean, I'm not feeling too badly right now ... I

even see the humour in some of the exchanges we had today ... but after I

got home for that appointment, suicide seemed like a good idea.

This evening again, I started feeling really low. Then it was time to

prepare dinner. I still felt kind of bummed out while working on it, but

when we sat down to eat and talk, my mood lifted again. What a bloody

elevator I've become. Up and down, up and down. Of course, I only travel

between the basement and maybe the third floor. The penthouse is still out

of my reach.

What else? Oh yes. Won't get into the details cuz they're long and boring,

but we actually figured out when it was that I started slipping into this

major depression. She asked me a question in a way that surprised me, and a

connection just got made. I guess it was something I had just said without

even realizing it, but there it was. Too bad it ain't a cure, but I

suddenly understood a few things about why I was feeling as lousy as I feel.

Simply put, I thought I had gotten over some crap that had happened to me,

but in reality, my trust and faith in people were shattered and everything

just fell apart steadily from there. How I got to where I am right now is a

whole lot clearer to me right now, and hopefully that is something

meaningful.

Last thing: I remembered to ask what my diagnosis was. The written down

stuff. I was curious. Virginia was fine with looking it up. It said

something like " disthymia, with depression. " There was also something like

" vulnerable personality " or suchlike, plus one other thing I can't remember,

and I asked her what that meant, but we got distracted and moved on to other

things without my finding out. ly, I don't feel as comfortable asking

the pdoc about this tomorrow, but I will try. I just have this great big

need to understand what the hell is going on and why.

Anyway, I promised I would not spend as much time this week on the computer,

carrying on about depression. I'm going to try to keep my promise. I

didn't understand her to say NO time, so I will certainly keep up as best I

can, but (and I can hear the sighs of relief getting heaved now) I won't

post much cuz that takes up the most time. Not sure what a fair compromise

is: instead of 6 hours a day, is 1 ok? 2 would be better. I'll take it a

day at a time. Can't do more.

You walkers have been such good special friends I will never give you up. I

will still write, but I guess I'll just have to be a little quieter for a

bit.

I hope the rest of tonight is okay for you, because I'm under strict orders

to take my meds by 9 and be in bed no later than 11. I tend to stay up half

the night lots of nights, and my sleep pattern is all screwed up. Plus, the

manerix causes sleep problems on top of the depression induced insomnia, so

she's fiddled my xanax so I take more at bedtime and none first thing in the

morning (which I think I can handle now actually - the manerix doesn't seem

to be causing the anxiety levels it did before for a few days now), to make

sure I fall asleep without too much trouble.

Love and hugs to

each & every one of you.

eve