Honestly,

Have you noticed lately how easy it is to lie? About anything - something trivial - or something that will change your life.  I had more to say on this subject earlier in the day, but I forgot it - for now.
Hope your day is okay.
VSS

It's a long story............

I'm recovering from a somewhat minor surgery, taking out painful nerves and extra scar tissue at an old incision site.  Having physical pain makes me over eat and it makes me very sensitive in interactions with people. 

A year of so a woman acquaintance dressed up for a special occasion and seeing her took my breath away. I said seeing you is enough to make a good dog break his chain. Then I apologized in case she'd feeling insulted. She said she didn't, but just didn't have time to add new friends to her life at the time.  Later she asked why I didn't come to this place, and hang out with the others. I told her I didn't know how to hang out. So I've been leaving her alone, watching as she makes friends with others and trying not to feel hurt.

Then I got a guess I got a group email wrong when I thought she'd been promoted and also had just had a birthday. I bought her a beautiful card and she saw me as I left it on her desk. She never responded, not even a thank you. Why don't people say thank you anymore?  As I just too old? 

Then another email warns about how busy it's going to be where she works and details how they are going to handle it. I used to work at the same place years ago and dashed off a quick reply describing how we compensated in the old days and though inconvenient, it was exciting and thrilling to have the chance to do the work we do.  Again, no response, not even a laugh, zip. 

Why does all the above bug me so much?  Yes, I feel left out, but that's not the real reason. The real reason is it hurts my ego. My ego does not like being ignored. This ego I'm talking about is the one that wants me all caught up in my thoughts. The ego that does not like me relaxed, in the present. It would rather have me depressed and unsure and wrapped up in pain.  The minute I realized that I laughed. 

All the above is happening in a state of depression. But don't ever think that your depression does not have light and knowledge and presence. It's there, you are not stranded. It is painful, but far from impossible.     Thank you all for listening.

Introduction - It's Working

Introduction - It's Working...!

For a lot of us, depression is an incurable, often terminal illness:

       

That’s the good news

·     Now you don’t have to wonder why it doesn’t go away, but keeps coming back.

·     Now you don’t have to feel guilty because  people love you, but that doesn’t help either.

·     Now you can relax and think about soothing yourself, one of the best things you can do.

·     Now you can quit fighting it.

·     Now you can cry when you need to.

·     Now you can think about living with it instead of trying to kill it by killing yourself.

When I heard about Robin Williams I was terribly sad and stunned. I  felt helpless. This deep sadness continued for weeks and entered  into my dreams. I told some friends that if I’d just had a chance to talk to him that day, I might have been able to do something about it. One guy asked what I’d have said to him – “let’s go get a drink,” that’s what I’d have said. Apparently he was an alcoholic and I know for sure that I’m one. But, “Hey Robin, I don’t think that’s a priority right now. It looks like there are more important things on your mind.”

Actually it’s kind of like A. A. in that it will help me stay alive and sane if I tell you how I do it, and you tell me how you don’t. Just think of me as your personal guide through the underworld and, if we’re lucky and pay attention, we’ll come through it alive.

Please don’t think for a minute that I’m not serious about this topic. Unrelenting depression took my father’s life when I was an infant. All I was told about him was that he tried suicide again and again, that he was extremely depressed and didn’t know what to do about it. Now this was 1946 so there weren’t many options, but it’s all the same. No matter what causes it; childhood abuse, psychological problems, crazy or suicidal genes, addiction.  I have a story to tell. It’s a true story. It’s my story.  I know it is not unique to me. I have to tell it because I can’t bear hearing or reading that another person has committed suicide - without my saying this. I’m not a writer and don’t have a college degree, but I’m 69 and I’ve learned a lot of things.                               

It’s true what Harvey Fierstein said,            

“don’t fuck with depression because 
all it wants to do is get you in a room alone and kill you. <sup>“

Visit again and leave me a comment. I'll reply.</sup>

Suicide and Depression

Suicide - Suicide - Suicide

"This guy's walking down the street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep he can't get out.

"A doctor passes by and the guy shouts up, 'Hey you. Can you help me out?' The doctor writes a prescription, throws it down in the hole and moves on.

"Then a priest comes along and the guy shouts up, 'Father, I'm down in this hole can you help me out?' The priest writes out a prayer, throws it down in the hole and moves on.

"Then a friend walks by, 'Hey, Joe, it's me, can you help me out?' And the friend jumps in the hole. Our guy says, 'Are you stupid? Now we're both down here.' The friend says, 'Yeah, but I've been down here before and I know the way out.”

(Aaron Sorkin,The West Wing, episode 2)

When addiction, depression, fear and ignorance continue to take the lives of our best and brightest talent, it’s time to say something.  Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston, Philip Seymour Hoffman and now Robin Williams, had bigger than life talent. Whether you like them or not, that talent is obvious. Now imagine putting depression in the middle of that.  How can I be depressed, I have everything?  Am I that selfish or self-centered that all this does not satisfy me? I should look outside, help someone else, and then I’ll feel better. These are often the kinds of help we offer to our creature human beings, these and more platitudes.  I think we can do better.

 

Today is a sad, sad day for me.  It’s right that we are sad.  That’s not a useless feeling.  We don’t have to go back to the lives of Beethoven, Mozart, and Schumann. We have these present day examples of people full of talent, love,  caring and incredible pain. All of these “stars” turned to substance for relief. I don’t know what they were specifically seeking relief from, I didn’t know them, but the pattern is clear. Whether the substance directly caused their death or not doesn’t matter. It matters that they didn’t see any other way out.

Today it seems as if Robin has come into my body and mind somehow. It happened when he committed suicide. I keep waiting to hear that it was not real. The real story will be that he was shot, or tortured, or kidnaped and never heard from again - anything but suicide.  Is this my time to feel my father’s suicide? I think maybe so. If so it will stay with me until I work it through.

I was watching Robin and Billy Crystal in a shtick and Robin said to Billy, “now you’re with me brother, you’ve crossed into the land of bad taste.” For ½ hr they were riotously funny. They make me want to do stand up on suicide.

You will enjoy and get more out of this book if you have a sense of humor about things most people don’t laugh at. So if writing out your ideal funeral plan is not amusing to you. Then making your very own, never fail suicide plan won’t be either.

In the process of getting feedback about these chapters I heard from a good friend who spoke of her worst depression. However, she said during all those weeks of withdrawal and isolation she never thought of harming herself. With me I definitely thought of, planned for and started carrying out suicide attempts, but I never thought of them in terms of harming myself. I wanted the pain to stop. The idea of harming myself did not enter into it because the harm to myself was inflicted by staying alive.

Lily Tomlin

This afternoon Marcy and I went to see Lily Tomlin in "Grandma." She was spectacular. I don't know if it was by design, but grandma grew to be the full person we are used to seeing, used to expecting. I loved every minute of it. 

A friend told me my blog was dark humor. Maybe that's why I got suck a kick out of GRANDMA.  If it comes near you go see it - or Netflix if you can't get to a theatre. This one was worth the big screen.

Now I'm home looking for her site. Want to write to her, but I can't find a way to do that. Guess she keeps herself to herself. Fine by me. I mean how many taunts of "you were fabulous" can one commedien take. 

Did you see her as Martin Sheen's private secretary on the West Wing series? You can definitely get that on Netflix. There she was acerbic again - loved it - I actually own the whole series - a gift from my friend who knows what makes me happy.  What makes you happy?  Make a list, it could be revealing. Don't edit it the first time through, just throw it out there. 

While perusing the internet something called "The Folk Show" came on the radio from New Hampshire. Never listened before. It's good. That's Sunday night around 8pm.  A good day, definitely a good day.  

Spell check is not working - hope spelling isn't too bad. Thanks for reading.

The next time

some well meaning person sees something I'm making and says "those are beautiful, you should make them and sell them," run, don't walk as fast as you can in the opposite direction. 

Took twenty sheep skin hats to Burklyn "the" craft fair in this area. What a drag - The best thing was the people I met. The wreath makers, "Nature by Design" were selling great guns and by the afternoon of the second things were slowing down for them and I went over and vented, with humor and now I have new friends. Of course I'm not going back to Burklyn. I'm not going back to any craft fair. I am the death knell to craft fair sales. It's taken me a long time to realize it. 

Today is the second day of a head cold and the first week of dealing with the diagnosis of Bipolar II. I hate the label, but it makes sense when I look at my behavior. Maybe I can stop fighting my "energy" spells. Maybe I can quit fighting the anger spells and see them for what they are. All this leads to ending the blame game. That just doesn't help anyone, me or any other one.

Changes As Path

Looking back at last  three posts there is a definite theme. Changes are path. So I'm walking, swimming, skipping, running, screaming along the path. But I'm still on it - definitely know this is all path. Had acupuncture treatment for my back and it was great - but much too expensive to keep up on a regular basis - Again, more Path.

Talk to me about your path - what does that mean to you?

Pain or sickness makes it harder

1.  Waiting to hear from he Plastic surgeon about when he'd be able to do an incision on my right side that's been causing me discomfort for a couple of years. Still no date set and it's been 2 weeks since I saw Dr. Rosen.
2. Back pain is worse and nothing seems to help. I am in a great deal of pain and anxiety.
3. Reverse mortgage process is taking more than I was led to believe it would take. I am definitely running out of money.
4.  Changing PCP is not going smoothly at all. Feel like I'm being tossed around from one to another.
5.  Therapist is most steady person in all of this.
6.. I've even thought about telling my sister the things her husband tried to force me to do through the years - but then that would just hurt her and what good would that do.
7.  Do you ever feel  you just want someone else to feel a bad as you do? No, I don't do that but I could use some help. I'll call for a PCP tomorrow and see if I can get a short visit.with someone.
8. Of course all this sets off the depression and isolation. Cancelled big Thanksgiving dinner and going with 4 people instead to local joint.
9.  I am so anxious and can't sleep.

Just hang in there girlfriend. Did something nice, bought a very plain vintage silver ring at the Shambhala Center Holiday Market. We did not get much turn out.  I wonder how much two of the store fronts on Eastern Ave would cost? Will check with Tom.  People asked about this blog the other night at Center. I enjoyed explaining it.

PCP's Don't Know Everything All The Time

I have been going to this primary care doctor for 14 years. During that time she's slipped up several times - not believing me or my symptoms - the most dramatic being ignoring my hand tremors because she thought they were caused by ECT treatments I'd had the year before. 

Then my psych medication APRN saw the tremor and asked me questions. Was I having trouble with balance or falling, was my handwriting different, how about memory. She referred me to a neurologist and within 2 weeks he was sure I had Parkinson's disease. 

So today I took the big step and transferred out of her care. I can chose another provider in the same office practice which I've done. There's relief, but I still feel I want to tell her off. That will probably wear off in time. 

If you have doubts about the care you are receiving from your doctor check it out. Don't let anyone, even and most especially a "doctor" belittle you. This doctor blew me off so many times and I'd often let it go because "she knew more than me", I was just being paranoid, etc.  It's taken me a long time to make the switch but it's done.

The other part is that sometimes people are just not a good fit. She was charming and self assured, and I did so want someone I could trust, someone who believed in me. She liked my jokes and often a good laugh at the end of the office visit made me feel  everything was really okay. I think, to many other people she's just fine. But she was not for me.

Now I used to have a guy cut my hair - we'd have great laughs and there was only one problem - I didn't like his hair cuts. Although he had lots of customers, he was just not for me.  Then I found someone else. I've had to work at our connection - but I really like her haircuts. 

That's how it is for me. Time for dinner. It's been a long day. Take care...vss

Changes

1.  Change name of this blog to depressionyoucanlivewith@blogspot.com

I did this because blogger is much easier to work with than WordPress. I hope it doesn't mess people up.

2.  Completely changed my booth set up for the craft fair because my friends didn't like the fabric I used for backdrop and they didn't like wreath I made and had me change the sheep skin I had on display on table. I listen to this person because she has been in the craft show business (potter) for a long, long time and makes herself a good living that way. 

3.  Got a bad cold Sunday night and had to change several medical appointments.

4.  Had to change expectation around house appraisal as it came in $10,000 less than I expected. 

5.  Have to call in structural engineer to certify my home is - something - I hope he knows because I don't.

6.  Had to call my one and only reliable contractor to install safety plugs in bathrooms and kitchens. Also to certify that my roof will last more than another 2 years.

7.  Changed my main antidepressant that I've been taking for years, because it's stopped working.

I hate this part, but it's happened to me a few times. The difficult part is discovering that this is what's causing you to feel down almost all the time.

8.  This is the best one - I can get through these partly because of the below:

AWARENESS

Awareness is the key.

Do we see the stories that we're telling ourselves

and question their validity?

When we are distracted by strong emotion,

do we remember that it is our path?

If we can remember to experiment like this,

even occasionally, we are training as a warrior. 

((I think that means having an open heart))

And when we can't practice when distracted,

but know that we can't, we are still training well.

Never underestimate the power of compassionately 

recognizing what's going on.

                                                                                                                                                        

                                               Pema Chodron

Don't worry so much about measuring up

I'm doing a jigsaw puzzle of a close up of a measuring tape. It's all jumbled up. I like the challenge. It's only about 60 pieces and I tried to put the like to it in this posting, but it didn't work. Maybe next time. Went to my psych nurse practitioner yesterday and strongly asked that she switch me to another main anti depressant because the one I've been on for several years doesn't seem to be working anymore. We had a good talk about symptoms and events in my life that could be bringing me down. Also there's the question of whether it's Parkinson's stuff which also causes depression. She's sent the pharmacy a new Rx, but they said it was refused by my insurance because they need a prior authorization. This probably means I won't get to start it till next week.

In the meantime I'm trying to focus on submitting my sheep skin hats to a jury for an upscale craft fair in Lyndonville. I borrowed a long fold up table and covered it with a soft maroon fleece, but it doesn't completely cover the sides. I got out some curtains and tucked them under the fleece around 3 sides of the table. The fleece is long enough to cover the front. Then I got some stuff at the Dollar Tree store to decorate it for a holiday look. Bells and a gold bow the the front and back. The sides and back of my booth will consist of folding shoji screens that will have 2 pieces of pvc pipe where the screens don't meet. Front these I'm hanging 2  panels of my living room curtains. Marcy said it doesn't go together, but I like it alright. I could use a piece of cream brocade to lengthen the sides but they will need to be hemmed. One more thing to do to get ready for this. And of course I've got to make several more hats. Did I say I was making a wreath out of silk flowers and ping springs from one of my trees?

Actually looking at it one item at a time it's not bad and kind of fun, even with the depression and anxiety.
Keep in touch,
Vickie

Spider Web

I feel like I've walked into a spider web. At first it was one or two sticky strings grabbing at me, then there was a gap and I was able to make a hat display and work on my sundress. But when a friend says something slightly off I'm offended or hurt and it's like another sticky arm attaching to me. Now I'm more attached to the web. I can still move and maybe even work my way free, but it is difficult and lonely. Very sensitive. 

I know you can't die from depression - not like cancer, that is. My friend said she read my blog and was surprised at how good it was, she liked the way I wrote from the heart. But why then is it I don't feel I have a heart today - or maybe it feels like too much heart. That spider wants to hold me tight and pull my heart out of me. 

Tomorrow we are going to take the bus to Cape Cod and rent a car for a few days. I want to see the ocean and feel it.

Suicide - Suicide - Suicide

"This guy's walking down the street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep he can't get out.

"A doctor passes by and the guy shouts up, 'Hey you. Can you help me out?' The doctor writes a prescription, throws it down in the hole and moves on.

"Then a priest comes along and the guy shouts up, 'Father, I'm down in this hole can you help me out?' The priest writes out a prayer, throws it down in the hole and moves on.

"Then a friend walks by, 'Hey, Joe, it's me, can you help me out?' And the friend jumps in the hole. Our guy says, 'Are you stupid? Now we're both down here.' The friend says, 'Yeah, but I've been down here before and I know the way out.”

(Aaron Sorkin,The West Wing, episode 2)

When addiction, depression, fear and ignorance continue to take the lives of our best and brightest talent, it’s time to say something.  Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston, Philip Seymour Hoffman and now Robin Williams, had bigger than life talent. Whether you like them or not, that talent is obvious. Now imagine putting depression in the middle of that.  How can I be depressed, I have everything?  Am I that selfish or self-centered that all this does not satisfy me? I should look outside, help someone else, and then I’ll feel better. These are often the kinds of help we offer to our creature human beings, these and more platitudes.  I think we can do better.

 

Today is a sad, sad day for me.  It’s right that we are sad.  That’s not a useless feeling.  We don’t have to go back to the lives of Beethoven, Mozart, and Schumann. We have these present day examples of people full of talent, love,  caring and incredible pain. All of these “stars” turned to substance for relief. I don’t know what they were specifically seeking relief from, I didn’t know them, but the pattern is clear. Whether the substance directly caused their death or not doesn’t matter. It matters that they didn’t see any other way out.

Today it seems as if Robin has come into my body and mind somehow. It happened when he committed suicide. I keep waiting to hear that it was not real. The real story will be that he was shot, or tortured, or kidnaped and never heard from again - anything but suicide.  Is this my time to feel my father’s suicide? I think maybe so. If so it will stay with me until I work it through.

I was watching Robin and Billy Crystal in a shtick and Robin said to Billy, “now you’re with me brother, you’ve crossed into the land of bad taste.” For ½ hr they were riotously funny. They make me want to do stand up on suicide.

You will enjoy and get more out of this book if you have a sense of humor about things most people don’t laugh at. So if writing out your ideal funeral plan is not amusing to you. Then making your very own, never fail suicide plan won’t be either.

In the process of getting feedback about these chapters I heard from a good friend who spoke of her worst depression. However, she said during all those weeks of withdrawal and isolation she never thought of harming herself. With me I definitely thought of, planned for and started carrying out suicide attempts, but I never thought of them in terms of harming myself. I wanted the pain to stop. The idea of harming myself did not enter into it because the harm to myself was inflicted by staying alive.

Heat + Exhaustion - Remember, that's probably just a depression imitation

I couldn't be happier that today is the first day of Sept. August with it's sweat and heat makes my body want to give up. Usually I give in to it and stay where there's AC or a fan.  Yesterday, early in the morning, thank god, I had to go to the x-ray dept. for a stress test. My primary care doc seems to think my exhaustion and sweating could be heart related. I knew it wasn't and I was right.

Call me any time between October and April or May and I'll be up for a Pride March or learning to kayak - or a drive to Burlington to dance - but not today.

So happy to be able to remember that it feels down trodden and helpless, but it's only the heat old girl - only the damn heat.

Be well,
VS

Depressed or Blue?

What's the difference? For me depressed is when I can't find a clue to lead me to the path out - or at least to a place of some relief.  That's how it was this morning. I called a friend to ask how her husband was doing after surgery and we started talking about how she was feeling.  She said she was having her thyroid checked and I remembered I take thyroid medicine, maybe my level needs to be checked. Maybe some extra thyroid would help how I feel.  True it is August, the hottest month of the summer which decreases my physical and mental comfort level, so that's part of it too.

Also I'm starting with my third lender to take me through the process of a Reverse Mortgage.  This will allow me to stay in my house because without a job I can't make it.  So, no stress in my life.

Now about the blue part -  Blue is when I'm walking on the path, even if it's a maze, so I know what's going on, but I still feel awful.  I think I'll go make myself a smoothie to cheer up. I have all my favorite stuff, honeydew melon, mangoes, peaches.  Then I could do pineapple and watermelon. These are my substitute for ice cream which is what I really want!

See you soon

I Figured It Out

No wonder Tuesday and the surrounding days were so painful and horrible. Tuesday was the one year mark of Robin Williams' death.

USUALLY I CAN TELL

when I can see the suffering, sadness, depression in me.  Now I cannot tell, I cannot separate myself from all of that. I want to die, right now I want to die. I just heard a spiritual teacher saying that we are all the same consciousness and if they or I were to die right now it wouldn't change anything. 

But the Buddhist part of me says if you do that you will miss experiencing your karma. That karma is why you are here. You are here to be conscious of that karma and experience it the best you can.  So I type and try to remember not to take it all so seriously. I'll tell you though I feel like my skin is being stripped off from the inside out. My heart is bleeding from sharp knife cuts and I cannot stop it. 

I think I'll go get something to eat. All I want is ice cream, but maybe I'll have some macaroni first. So I made food, and a mango/honeydew smoothie too.

Still listening to Eckhart, but now I'm going to watch part of a movie and maybe knit a little.

I will get through this. I am still here. 

Thanks for reading,

vss

THERAPISTS

                                                                   Therapists

I once had a therapist who I thought was going to be great, at least we started off well.  But, I learned about a year later that this woman was full of fear and would not discuss it or even own it. That does not work for me. Her lack of real support was one of the reasons I ended up having extensive ECT treatments. I’d had knee replacement surgery and did not do well on the narcotic pain medication, the main side-effect was to make me foggy and groggy at the dinner table. I was also in denial that this was happening. I had nowhere to turn except to my suicide plan.  Then my primary care doctor, the useless therapist who I was still seeing, and two close friends thought maybe hospitalization and ECT would help.

Shock therapy is not really too bad. I’ve been asked if it helped or what the result was. I figured out the answer – it bought me time. I needed time to get back on track.

It bought me time to find my current, intense, brave therapist. She can handle hearing my doubts and misunderstandings (with her or with others). She loves her work and I can definitely feel that. She has a different style, but the honesty is always present.

I don’t know why therapists think we can’t tell when they are scared, bored, lying, or clueless. We can tell. I can tell. Yes, you can tell. Think about it. Remember how you felt when a therapist did or said something you thought was kind of strange. Did you ask them about it?  Would they discuss it with you? Did they respect your perceptions? If they put it back on you – that’s just not right and you know it. It may be deep inside you, or not so deep, but some part of you knows this person has work of her own to do. If they can’t own that, you need to find someone else.

Sometimes you have to go to many counselors to find the one for you. It could also be that one works for a while then runs out of ideas for you and is willing to send you on to another.

I guess this is where the part of trusting yourself comes in. IT’S A VERY BIG DEAL and you will begin to like how you feel, so much more, when you can – trust yourself, that is.

At one point I was seeing a therapist who was into MPD (Multiple Personality Disorder) which it was called then. Every time some new personality made an appearance this therapist was thrilled. But, when a very angry one showed up and told her they would like to slit her throat, that was over the line for her. She had me admitted to a psych hospital and then told them she would no longer be my therapist.

It turns out she was afraid of me. She had done a lot of digging to get to my anger and when we did it freaked her out. She was petrified. At that time I was awfully hurt. I had been in this hospital before and my attending doc there was very encouraging. He said it was for the best, that she couldn’t help me anyhow. So the hospital, my best friend and I went looking for another shrink – again.

Sober for 10 years and now wearing this anger on the inside and outside of me, like 60 grit sandpaper. And I didn’t think anyone else could see it. Banging pillows and turning bricks to dust with a hammer did not help. They actually made it worse by working me up into a rage then there was no place to go with it.

The best help I ever got was from a psychiatrist. I found her accidentally. I decided that the next one I went to was going to get it all, nothing held back. If it didn’t work this time I was checking out for good. I’d just talked to this woman (psychiatrist) once on the phone. I was irritated because I had to call her twice before she called me back, but she sounded okay. Waiting room with two white wicker chairs. She opened the door wearing jeans, tennis shoes, turtle neck, and sweat shirt. Lots of thick red hair pulled back in a braid.  Her office was plain, white wicker loveseat, two white wicker chairs with tropical print fabric cushions. There was a small rattan table and a director’s chair where she sat. That was it. No curtains on windows, no shades, nothing on the walls, no bookcases and no plants.  I sat in a chair with its back to the windows so no one could see me even though we were on the second floor. In my heart I knew only one thing, if it didn’t work with this one, I was done. That’s exactly what I told her.

She was at the end of a long list of therapists, psychologists, gestalt counselors, and psychiatrists, people who’d been telling me things about myself or trying to get me to say things about myself for years - starting at about sixteen. Now I was 40 or so and I’d had it. When Garland called my last therapist for my records Francine admitted that she did not know what to do with me. After that it took me three months to be able to call G. by her name.  She had clear spirit. And, I don't remember her ever taking notes.  

Every week we would just start with what was coming up that day. There was a lot of stuff, a lot of memories and a lot that was held for me by other parts. Somewhere around age 6 or 7 I began to dissociate. I don’t know how it happened, but I could not take what was happening to me so these various children and adult personalities would sort of take my place. Sometimes I could see them as I was floating up in a corner of a room. Sometimes I remembered what they helped me with, but mostly it was their secret. In my psychiatrist's office they started telling me what happened, all of it. I was in and out of a psych hospital several times over these years. I’d sometimes cut myself, or take too many pills. Once the fear around a memory was so great she had me admitted to the hospital, then drove up there to see me and have the session in a place that was safe for me. I told you she was amazing.

I thought it would never stop. Then one day it was over. The main body of physical, sexual and verbal attacks were out in the open.  It was not the end of the work at all, but no more huge things presented themselves. I’d found out what the great mass of pain was about. 

This BLOG is dedicated to Garland because she worked so hard for me, way over the top. Other than slowly paying off her bill, there is no way that I know to thank her adequately. I want you to find someone like this. They are out there – I believe that. Trust your instincts.

ADDICTION

__________________________________________________ADDICTION _________7/23/15

That word gets thrown about a lot. It seems to try to cover anything we are struggling with or would like to stop, but can’t. That’s a little too black and white for me.

To me it’s any activity that takes you away from your ability to experience the present moment.  Anything that your ego is using to distract you from experiencing your feelings. In many cases we need an addiction to help us get from one place to another. They are okay for that – but they are not a stopping place, not a place to hang out forever. We won’t be able to live an enjoyable life with our addiction keeping the motor going.

Our addictions are trying to tell us we’re in pain. They are not some horrible things that are trying to make us into terrible people and beat us into the ground.  Let’s follow that out and see if it’s true.

I started drinking at age 15. Someone asked me how I got the liquor. Easy, there were always a few guys who wanted to take out a girl who wanted to “party.”  We didn’t call it that in those days though. The first time I got drunk I threw up when I got home, but I loved it. Not the taste mind you, I hated the taste of it all. But something clicked in me – “this is it!”  I can be someone else with this stuff, safe from my memories, social ineptitude, fears and horrible pain. This was pretty much my life for about fifteen years including two marriages, numerous affairs, etc, etc. Not drinking age yet? No problems – with heels I was about 6’, then there’s the piled up hair, plenty of make-up and voila – “she looks 21 to me,” says the bartender. I thought I’d found a life.

After packing up and leaving Tucson (never did like that heat) I spent a couple of years in Texas where the drinking became daily and it’s a miracle that I held down my job. Now I was trying therapy. The pain was starting to break through the alcohol haze. I really wanted to be on the east coast – ocean – snow – yes. I figured I was so depressed I wouldn’t be long for this world so if I was going to die I wanted to do it someplace beautiful. This time I packed up and drove to Cape Cod. I’d started to learn medical transcription in Tucson and it became a good profession for me. On the Cape I meet my first female sweetheart; however, she decided to go back to her boyfriend – oh well. She had introduced me to a very charismatic minister, his church and their “mother” church. This is when the alcohol turned its back on me. It was not making me happy anymore, or helping me ignore my anger. No one in a bar wants to buy drinks for a bitch. I had no interest in cuddling up to anyone, much less to a man.

Fast forward. Being desperate for someone who’d run my life I found a Christian group who said I was “accepted” if I made two big changes; no more women and no more alcohol. My self-esteem was at a new low so as they ran me down emotionally, I thought they were right – I was nearly hopeless. Every week one of them would escort me to a meeting (so I wouldn’t talk to the “wrong” people). The craving to drink was awful that first year, but I didn’t want to get thrown out of the community. I did stay sober for a year and after a couple of years of not fitting in, no matter how much I tried, I fledged from that particular group of believers.

I also started therapy with a kind man who was great for a while, great for (what I was to find out later) the superficial problems. He also would not work with me if I drank so that brings us up to three years without a drink – thanks be to A. A.  But when I met the love of my life in Provincetown this same therapist said I was definitely not a lesbian (because I wore dresses?*%#). Okay what’s it going to be – leave her – leave him – leave her – leave him – hard decision (still barely able to trust my own feelings). I left HIM. And later I left her too because the untamed, wild storm of torment in me made our living together impossible. I didn’t want to live with me either.  Luckily as it turned out this woman and I found out we were much better together as the best of close friends.

     

For a lot of us, depression is an incurable, often terminal illness:

       

That’s the good news

    1.   Now you don’t have to wonder why it doesn’t go            away, but keeps coming back.

    2.   Now you don’t have to feel guilty because  people            love you, but that doesn’t help either.

     3.  Now you can relax and think about soothing yourself,      one of the best things you can do.

     4.  Now you can quit fighting it.

     5.  Now you can cry when you need to.

     6.  Now you can think about living with it instead of trying to kill it by killing yourself. 

When I heard about Robin Williams I was terribly sad and stunned. I  felt helpless. This deep sadness continued for weeks and entered  into my dreams. I told some friends that if I’d just had a chance to talk to him that day, I might have been able to do something about it. One guy asked what I’d have said to him – “let’s go get a drink,” that’s what I’d have said. Apparently he was an alcoholic and I know for sure that I’m one. But, “Hey Robin, I don’t think that’s a priority right now. It looks like there are more important things on your mind.”

Actually it’s kind of like A. A. in that it will help me stay alive and sane if I tell you how I do it, and you tell me how you don’t. Just think of me as your personal guide through the underworld and, if we’re lucky and pay attention, we’ll come through it alive.

Please don’t think for a minute that I’m not serious about this topic. Unrelenting depression took my father’s life when I was an infant. All I was told about him was that he tried suicide again and again, that he was extremely depressed and didn’t know what to do about it. Now this was 1946 so there weren’t many options, but it’s all the same. No matter what causes it; childhood abuse, psychological problems, crazy or suicidal genes, addiction.  I have a story to tell. It’s a true story. It’s my story.  I know it is not unique to me. I have to tell it because I can’t bear hearing or reading that another person has committed suicide - without my saying this. I’m not a writer and don’t have a college degree, but I’m 69 and I’ve learned a lot of things.

It’s true what Harvey Fierstein said, “don’t fuck with depression because all it wants to do is get you in a room alone and kill you. ^“

That's supposed to help someone?

Monday 7-27-15
A very good friend of mine just read the sentence about depression being incurable and possibly terminal and asked me how that could possibly be the good news. My explanation was that the black humor of it probably escapes her. It makes perfect sense to me. Once I accepted how serious depression was,  I was able to get serious about it. Most people who write well meaning articles, books, pep talks about depression do not have the faintest idea what it really feels like. Let's let them know on this site how serious we are about it. 

Most cancers are incurable so the patient has to learn to live with that, or they can go down fighting, or both. But no one tells them to just cheer up - they bring them cheese cake.  

Now with depression people try to cheer you up. How often does that work for you? Yea, not me either. We are the HARD CORE of depression-land. 

    "IT WILL PASS"  ( no, it won’t pass)            2-12-15

                    

If I had a dollar for every time this has been tossed casually to me, like a basketball.

Please stop listening to people who, when you tell them you’re depressed, tell you it will pass. That’s sort of like telling homeless, starving kids that their hunger will pass. It’s ridiculous! 

Sure it will pass, maybe for 10 minutes, but it will be back again and you know it, because you’ve experienced that many times. I have experienced that many times too.

So you’re stable on medications after trying many combinations. You have a good therapist. You are able to hold down a job or live on Social Security or some other program or your private budget. Now you need to learn to live with depression day in and day out.

I’m having a break from it today. The anger underneath it is tolerable today too. It feels so good to have a break. Some days the state under the depression is more fragile than others.  Today is about a 5. I can accept myself today.  I don’t have to be liked by people so desperately today.  All the same I know just as sure as I know my shoe size, that it will be back – without my invitation. 

I can “make friends” with it. I can be curious about it. I can put it in a box, wrap it in pretty paper with a bow and put it in a desk drawer. All these things I’ve been advised to do by caring people that mean well. I’ve worked with all these systems and many others.  People say they will be “there” for me, and I think they mean it. They just don’t have any idea of what that would really mean. When the darkness, fire, or gallons of mud envelop me these people are not there. If they were they would not want to be around me for long.

I experience what is called post-traumatic stress disorder. It is decidedly less painful now than when I discovered it. So which came first, the depression or the trauma? Who knows. It doesn’t really matter. I still have to deal with it almost every day.  It is better to talk about it than try to hide.  Squashing it with alcohol, sex, drugs, food, work or money only last for a while.  Right? Of course right. You know what I’m talking about.

More to come.................vss

Introduction - It's Working...!

For a lot of us, depression is an incurable, often terminal illness:

       

That’s the good news

·     Now you don’t have to wonder why it doesn’t go away, but keeps coming back.

·     Now you don’t have to feel guilty because  people love you, but that doesn’t help either.

·     Now you can relax and think about soothing yourself, one of the best things you can do.

·     Now you can quit fighting it.

·     Now you can cry when you need to.

·     Now you can think about living with it instead of trying to kill it by killing yourself.

When I heard about Robin Williams I was terribly sad and stunned. I  felt helpless. This deep sadness continued for weeks and entered  into my dreams. I told some friends that if I’d just had a chance to talk to him that day, I might have been able to do something about it. One guy asked what I’d have said to him – “let’s go get a drink,” that’s what I’d have said. Apparently he was an alcoholic and I know for sure that I’m one. But, “Hey Robin, I don’t think that’s a priority right now. It looks like there are more important things on your mind.”

Actually it’s kind of like A. A. in that it will help me stay alive and sane if I tell you how I do it, and you tell me how you don’t. Just think of me as your personal guide through the underworld and, if we’re lucky and pay attention, we’ll come through it alive.

Please don’t think for a minute that I’m not serious about this topic. Unrelenting depression took my father’s life when I was an infant. All I was told about him was that he tried suicide again and again, that he was extremely depressed and didn’t know what to do about it. Now this was 1946 so there weren’t many options, but it’s all the same. No matter what causes it; childhood abuse, psychological problems, crazy or suicidal genes, addiction.  I have a story to tell. It’s a true story. It’s my story.  I know it is not unique to me. I have to tell it because I can’t bear hearing or reading that another person has committed suicide - without my saying this. I’m not a writer and don’t have a college degree, but I’m 69 and I’ve learned a lot of things.                               

It’s true what Harvey Fierstein said,            

“don’t fuck with depression because 
all it wants to do is get you in a room alone and kill you. <sup>“

Visit again and leave me a comment. I'll reply.</sup>