Hey, remember how I originally started this blog to talk about dealing with depression?
. . . Yeah.
So today I went to the doctor (a "normal" doctor, not a "head" doctor; reasons are none of your business), which was somewhat scary -- having anything medical done at any time always seems to convince me that, whoops, I'm Patient Zero for the disease we'll discover if we ever cure cancer -- but then, once I actually got there, something wonderful happened.
You know how, any time you go to the doctor for anything, they can't get down to the reason you're actually there until they've asked a zillion and one preliminary questions about any time you've ever gone to any doctor in your entire life?
This visit was no exception!
DOCTOR: So do you have any other existing health concerns I should know about?
ME: We-ell, yes, I have been diagnosed with depression.
DOCTOR: Are you currently in treatment?
ME: Not at the moment, no, but I did go to therapy last year.
You guys, seriously, she was so proud of me for going to therapy that I half-expected her to jump out of her chair and do a happy dance. That didn't happen, but we did have a fairly excited mini-conversation about how entering therapy meant I had to stop drinking, and I decided to keep up my sobriety after therapy for a grand total of one hundred days. We talked about how I had figured out that, for me personally, not reading anything for more than two weeks is probably a sign that something bad is going on in my brain. And so on and so forth. I'm not describing this very well because I'm still excited (also, I'm so hungry I'm sort of dizzy), but . . .
. . . okay, so my point here is "just" that I'm so proud of myself. I can't even begin to wrap my head around how much my life sucked this time last year, and how awesome it is now, and how that change is entirely my fault.
Imagine how awesome my life will probably be a year from now if I keep this up.
Try not to get dizzy.
Showing posts with label depression is not okay. Show all posts
Showing posts with label depression is not okay. Show all posts
Monday, April 9, 2012
Friday, September 23, 2011
This is Getting Old
I've had the same dream every night for the past ten (?) days. It's not the only dream I've had, but I keep having it.
Every. Single. Night.
It involves fighting for my life. The person trying to kill me used to be one of my best friends, but hasn't been capable of saying a single nice thing about me for almost a month (Calvin was on to something when he said, "I wish I had more friends, but people are such jerks"). She (or he - we don't need to delve into specifics) is commanding a small army of zombies, who are also trying to kill me.
I don't have any weapons.
But I'm still me, so I fight.
I kill all the zombies (because, in my dreams, I always have insane fighting skills), and then it comes down to a showdown between me and my former friend.
My former friend has a weapon and knows how to use it.
Fine, I think. This sucks and I really wish you had a clue what forgiveness really means . . . but, if this is where we are, then fine. So be it. Me or you. If that's the choice you're forcing me to make, guess what? I pick me.
And then I wake up.
Interpret that as you will.
Note: I'm almost positive that my former friend isn't a necromancer in real life.
Every. Single. Night.
It involves fighting for my life. The person trying to kill me used to be one of my best friends, but hasn't been capable of saying a single nice thing about me for almost a month (Calvin was on to something when he said, "I wish I had more friends, but people are such jerks"). She (or he - we don't need to delve into specifics) is commanding a small army of zombies, who are also trying to kill me.
I don't have any weapons.
But I'm still me, so I fight.
I kill all the zombies (because, in my dreams, I always have insane fighting skills), and then it comes down to a showdown between me and my former friend.
My former friend has a weapon and knows how to use it.
Fine, I think. This sucks and I really wish you had a clue what forgiveness really means . . . but, if this is where we are, then fine. So be it. Me or you. If that's the choice you're forcing me to make, guess what? I pick me.
And then I wake up.
Interpret that as you will.
Note: I'm almost positive that my former friend isn't a necromancer in real life.
Friday, September 9, 2011
The Scariest Things There Are - Part 1
"You are not consumed by the darkness because you are full of light."
- Robin McKinley
I wake up covered in sweat that burns like ice, and everything is dark.
Dark? No, that doesn't quite cover it. This is beyond the dark you'd get at midnight on the winter solstice, during a thunderstorm with no lightning, or in the middle of an abandoned cemetery on a starless night. This is more than a simple matter of lights and shadows and rods and corneas. This is a dark you can feel.
You can even taste it.
Naturally, my first reaction to something so strange and so foreboding is to get out of bed and go for a run.
So that's what I do.
There's a certain something about running at night that I can't really describe, but it's nothing short of magical. Sure, it's just as exhausting as it is during the day, but . . . I don't know. The night air is colder, crisper, and I can breathe it in and out easier. I am faster and I am stronger than ever when I can't see where I'm going.
It makes no sense, but who ever heard of magic making sense?
After running and running and running through the forest for who knows how long (this is surely much farther than any of my usual paths, but the thought of stopping hasn't even begun to occur to me), I trip over nothing and skin both knees.
My glasses go flying as I fall, because of course my glasses go flying. On a night like this, it's a wonder that they haven't already gone flying (not to put too fine a point on it, but I am sweating an awful lot). For a few moments, I madly scramble about, trying to find them by feel . . .
. . . until it hits me: What's the point? I can't see a thing anyway, not a blessed thing. Besides, I keep a spare pair at home for precisely this purpose. If I can even find my way home tonight.
Well, golly.
Isn't that a pleasant thought?
Seriously, though, where in the world am I?
I crawl over to a sturdy tree and lean into it and just breathe.
Since I left home (running, in retrospect, was a spectacularly stupid idea -- you'd think, at the very least, I might have had the sense to bring my phone), the palpable dark has increased. Tenfold.
I begin to worry.
Breathe.
In. Out. In, out, in again, out again.
Shut up and breathe.
Don't panic.
A minute passes, or maybe it's an hour.
Alright, enough of this.
Calm down.
I do have four other senses, after all. Taste is fairly useless at this juncture (all I can taste is the dark -- yes, I know how crazy that sounds), but surely the other three can at least point me in the direction of----
Hey! Direction! I can just turn around and go home!
. . . No, I can't. I have no idea where I am and no idea how I got here and no idea where home is. I don't even know how much time has passed since I fell. Plus, I'm tired. I'm so very tired.
(You know, it's weird. Before I fell, I was perfectly content with having no idea where I was or where I was going. I knew I couldn't see anything even when it was right in front of me, but that didn't seem like such a big deal.)
Okay, focus. Touch, smell, listen. You can figure this out.
Listen.
I don't hear anything other than my own anxious heartbeat.
Or, rather, I don't hear anything other than my own anxious heartbeat until I think, I don't hear anything other than my own anxious heartbeat. The realization inexplicably perks up my ears, and I hear . . .
. . . a spooky owl,
. . . wind rushing through the trees,
. . . something chuckling in the distance, which is surely just my imagination, and
. . .
. . .
. . . somebody somewhere (everywhere? nowhere?) trying to get my attention.
"IT'S NOT JUST YOUR IMAGINATION."
Who the hell was that?
- Robin McKinley
I wake up covered in sweat that burns like ice, and everything is dark.
Dark? No, that doesn't quite cover it. This is beyond the dark you'd get at midnight on the winter solstice, during a thunderstorm with no lightning, or in the middle of an abandoned cemetery on a starless night. This is more than a simple matter of lights and shadows and rods and corneas. This is a dark you can feel.
You can even taste it.
Naturally, my first reaction to something so strange and so foreboding is to get out of bed and go for a run.
So that's what I do.
There's a certain something about running at night that I can't really describe, but it's nothing short of magical. Sure, it's just as exhausting as it is during the day, but . . . I don't know. The night air is colder, crisper, and I can breathe it in and out easier. I am faster and I am stronger than ever when I can't see where I'm going.
It makes no sense, but who ever heard of magic making sense?
After running and running and running through the forest for who knows how long (this is surely much farther than any of my usual paths, but the thought of stopping hasn't even begun to occur to me), I trip over nothing and skin both knees.
My glasses go flying as I fall, because of course my glasses go flying. On a night like this, it's a wonder that they haven't already gone flying (not to put too fine a point on it, but I am sweating an awful lot). For a few moments, I madly scramble about, trying to find them by feel . . .
. . . until it hits me: What's the point? I can't see a thing anyway, not a blessed thing. Besides, I keep a spare pair at home for precisely this purpose. If I can even find my way home tonight.
Well, golly.
Isn't that a pleasant thought?
Seriously, though, where in the world am I?
I crawl over to a sturdy tree and lean into it and just breathe.
Since I left home (running, in retrospect, was a spectacularly stupid idea -- you'd think, at the very least, I might have had the sense to bring my phone), the palpable dark has increased. Tenfold.
I begin to worry.
Breathe.
In. Out. In, out, in again, out again.
Shut up and breathe.
Don't panic.
A minute passes, or maybe it's an hour.
Alright, enough of this.
Calm down.
I do have four other senses, after all. Taste is fairly useless at this juncture (all I can taste is the dark -- yes, I know how crazy that sounds), but surely the other three can at least point me in the direction of----
Hey! Direction! I can just turn around and go home!
. . . No, I can't. I have no idea where I am and no idea how I got here and no idea where home is. I don't even know how much time has passed since I fell. Plus, I'm tired. I'm so very tired.
(You know, it's weird. Before I fell, I was perfectly content with having no idea where I was or where I was going. I knew I couldn't see anything even when it was right in front of me, but that didn't seem like such a big deal.)
Okay, focus. Touch, smell, listen. You can figure this out.
Listen.
I don't hear anything other than my own anxious heartbeat.
Or, rather, I don't hear anything other than my own anxious heartbeat until I think, I don't hear anything other than my own anxious heartbeat. The realization inexplicably perks up my ears, and I hear . . .
. . . a spooky owl,
. . . wind rushing through the trees,
. . . something chuckling in the distance, which is surely just my imagination, and
. . .
. . .
. . . somebody somewhere (everywhere? nowhere?) trying to get my attention.
"IT'S NOT JUST YOUR IMAGINATION."
Who the hell was that?
Friday, September 2, 2011
Addendum
I always feel weird about writing godawful poetry (note: I rarely write poetry that is not godawful) and sharing it with someone. On the one hand, things must be bleak if I'm writing poetry, godawful or otherwise. Then again, things must not be too terribly horribly no good very bad if I'm able to deal with them by taking a second to write poetry, godawful or otherwise.
Last night I did five hundred pushups and one hundred situps. That sounds like a lot, but they were all pretty much necessary. I had another panic attack. Or almost had one. For more than two hours. I don't know exactly what happened, but it sucked out loud. After the twenty-fifth pushup, it stopped sucking or doing anything else because all I could feel was my body.
And then I took a hot bath. Incidentally, exercise and hot baths go together really well, as long as you make sure to do them in that order.
"I think I had a point, but I just got distracted."
I'm going to have some sort of Shopping Emergency in the next two and a half weeks. But don't worry, I'm already planning how to deal with it.
My allergies have been kicking my ass since Sunday night.
The moral of the story is that Depression is a jerk and I'm tired of fighting him. I wish I could just be normal.
Last night I did five hundred pushups and one hundred situps. That sounds like a lot, but they were all pretty much necessary. I had another panic attack. Or almost had one. For more than two hours. I don't know exactly what happened, but it sucked out loud. After the twenty-fifth pushup, it stopped sucking or doing anything else because all I could feel was my body.
And then I took a hot bath. Incidentally, exercise and hot baths go together really well, as long as you make sure to do them in that order.
"I think I had a point, but I just got distracted."
I'm going to have some sort of Shopping Emergency in the next two and a half weeks. But don't worry, I'm already planning how to deal with it.
My allergies have been kicking my ass since Sunday night.
The moral of the story is that Depression is a jerk and I'm tired of fighting him. I wish I could just be normal.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Progress!
A little less than two weeks ago, I had a bad day that I didn't want to talk about.
The way I saw it then, there were six things I needed to do ASAP.
Let's see how I've been doing, shall we?
1. Move.
Literally in the process right now. The cool thing is, I'll be moving to the neighborhood I've had my heart set on for more than two years.
2. Transfer.
My first day at my new store is September 12th - that's right, a mere two weeks from now. Again, the cool thing is, I've had my heart set on this store for more than two years. Not gonna lie, I'm pretty effin' proud of myself.
3. Start hanging out with my friends a thousand times more regularly than I do at the moment.
Yup. Go me.
4. Read without ceasing.
"Without ceasing" is perhaps a bit of a stretch, but I am definitely pulling out of my initial post-therapy book slump.
5. Take pictures. (I may or may not take a photography class just for fun.)
Ahem. I still haven't done any research about the just-for-fun class, but check this out:
http://fake-photography.tumblr.com/
[Note to self: Really? You're gonna make everybody copy and paste? Geez. You need to get a lot more familiar with Blogspot STAT.]
6. Buy some crayons!
I still think this is a wonderful idea, it's just not a priority at the moment.
The way I saw it then, there were six things I needed to do ASAP.
Let's see how I've been doing, shall we?
1. Move.
Literally in the process right now. The cool thing is, I'll be moving to the neighborhood I've had my heart set on for more than two years.
2. Transfer.
My first day at my new store is September 12th - that's right, a mere two weeks from now. Again, the cool thing is, I've had my heart set on this store for more than two years. Not gonna lie, I'm pretty effin' proud of myself.
3. Start hanging out with my friends a thousand times more regularly than I do at the moment.
Yup. Go me.
4. Read without ceasing.
"Without ceasing" is perhaps a bit of a stretch, but I am definitely pulling out of my initial post-therapy book slump.
5. Take pictures. (I may or may not take a photography class just for fun.)
Ahem. I still haven't done any research about the just-for-fun class, but check this out:
http://fake-photography.tumblr.com/
[Note to self: Really? You're gonna make everybody copy and paste? Geez. You need to get a lot more familiar with Blogspot STAT.]
6. Buy some crayons!
I still think this is a wonderful idea, it's just not a priority at the moment.
Friday, August 26, 2011
I Have No Memory of Writing This
[Writing stuff like this was a big part of how I managed to get through therapy.]
1. It wasn't my fault.
2. I'm a little bit psychic.
2a. Which is nice, since I no longer feel any sort of pressing need to prove it when I'm right about something and someone else, well, doesn't see it that way.
3. One simple conversation is going to change my life drastically. For the better, although it will probably hurt at the time.
4. Pain is part of life, and it's perfectly natural . . . but love is stronger: The love I feel for others, the love others feel for me, and the love I feel for myself.
5. Yes, I said the love I feel for myself. Because, dammit, I am awesome. I've spent way too much time (sixteen years) not believing that; to quote Relient K, though, "to go back to where I was would just be wrong."
[At the top of the page, I had written REINS RINSE RESIN RISEN SIREN -- they're all spelled with the same letters arranged in different ways!]
1. It wasn't my fault.
2. I'm a little bit psychic.
2a. Which is nice, since I no longer feel any sort of pressing need to prove it when I'm right about something and someone else, well, doesn't see it that way.
3. One simple conversation is going to change my life drastically. For the better, although it will probably hurt at the time.
4. Pain is part of life, and it's perfectly natural . . . but love is stronger: The love I feel for others, the love others feel for me, and the love I feel for myself.
5. Yes, I said the love I feel for myself. Because, dammit, I am awesome. I've spent way too much time (sixteen years) not believing that; to quote Relient K, though, "to go back to where I was would just be wrong."
[At the top of the page, I had written REINS RINSE RESIN RISEN SIREN -- they're all spelled with the same letters arranged in different ways!]
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Good Months and Bad Months
I've been out of therapy and back at work for a little more than two months.
When I was a freshman in high school (circa 2003), my English teacher had the walls of her classroom covered with "cute" posters. The only one I remember had a picture of Garfield - who, as we all know, is famous for hating Mondays, isn't that just hilarious? - underneath the words, "I HAVE MY GOOD DAYS AND MY BAD WEEKS."
I hated it. (And not just because Garfield has always gotten on my nerves.)
I hate it even more now, because I think it's kind of true.
Sort of.
Despite being introduced to the perfect new roommate and finding the perfect apartment in the perfect location and finally getting approval to transfer to my dream store and successfully confronting my manager at my current store about some stuff that was getting on my nerves (note: she actually thanked me for this), I, Ryan Timothy Bish, have had one "bad day" after another lately. My attitude is great (okay . . . mostly great), my friends are so supportive that it's honestly sort of suffocating sometimes (friends, if you're reading this, PLEASE DO NOT STOP. I promise I will keep demanding that you respect my boundaries and letting you know when I need "me time," so please continue suffocating me. I need you all more than ever right now. Recovery sucks almost as much as depression), things with Mom are as good as they reasonably could be, I have four Laurie Halse Anderson books waiting for me at the library . . . and yet, I am tired all the time (even right after I wake up from a decent night's sleep). And it's not a "being awesome is exhausting" sort of tired, believe me - it's an "I don't give a fuck about anything because I just want to sleep forever because I don't give a fuck about anything; holy cows, is it still Tuesday?" sort of tired.
Which I have not felt since I was still in therapy.
Anyway. The other day, I had a thought: Maybe, while you're still "in recovery" (ugh) (how long does that last, anyway?) (forever?) (longer than forever?) (one day less than forever?) (more or less than six months?), you should stop thinking in terms of "good days" and "bad days." Maybe it would be more - not helpful, exactly, but saying efficient or productive would make you sound like a tool, and I can't think of any other synonyms that aren't pure psychobabble - to start thinking of "good months" and "bad months." After all, last months was pretty much pure awesome from start to finish. This month? Not so much!
Then again, maybe it would be an even better idea to stop thinking in such general terms at all, and just be thankful for the good moments. If you happen to have so many of those that they add up to a good day, well, good for you. If you go through a week or three and you can only remember a tiny handful of good moments, well, oh fucking well. Have some more good moments the next week, or the week after that. Or not.
Either way, don't beat yourself up about anything. Remember, recovery is not easy. It is, in fact, the hardest thing you've ever done. It's so hard that it makes things that seemed like a big deal when you did them (doing stand-up for the first time even though Sho couldn't make it even though she had been the one to push you to do it so soon; coming out to Cara; deciding to ignore how scared you were and just say "yes") feel easy - no, not just easy. It makes them feel mundane. Anybody could do them. Also, when you did them, you were still not doing anything about Depression, so all the hugs and all the kudos to you, bitch!
. . . All of which has been a very, very, very roundabout way of saying that I am just not feeling it today, you guys. I am in a serious funk.
Also! The second I sat down to write this entry, it occurred to me that I have always (?) said, "August is a bad month when bad things happen."
It's nice to know how right I was.
Not.
Alright, alright, here's something slightly more upbeat, taken from a conversation I had with my friend/older-sister-from-another-mister Kiki on Google+ about an hour ago: "The important thing, though, is that I love you and I love myself. Compared to that, [everything else is] meaningless."
When I was a freshman in high school (circa 2003), my English teacher had the walls of her classroom covered with "cute" posters. The only one I remember had a picture of Garfield - who, as we all know, is famous for hating Mondays, isn't that just hilarious? - underneath the words, "I HAVE MY GOOD DAYS AND MY BAD WEEKS."
I hated it. (And not just because Garfield has always gotten on my nerves.)
I hate it even more now, because I think it's kind of true.
Sort of.
Despite being introduced to the perfect new roommate and finding the perfect apartment in the perfect location and finally getting approval to transfer to my dream store and successfully confronting my manager at my current store about some stuff that was getting on my nerves (note: she actually thanked me for this), I, Ryan Timothy Bish, have had one "bad day" after another lately. My attitude is great (okay . . . mostly great), my friends are so supportive that it's honestly sort of suffocating sometimes (friends, if you're reading this, PLEASE DO NOT STOP. I promise I will keep demanding that you respect my boundaries and letting you know when I need "me time," so please continue suffocating me. I need you all more than ever right now. Recovery sucks almost as much as depression), things with Mom are as good as they reasonably could be, I have four Laurie Halse Anderson books waiting for me at the library . . . and yet, I am tired all the time (even right after I wake up from a decent night's sleep). And it's not a "being awesome is exhausting" sort of tired, believe me - it's an "I don't give a fuck about anything because I just want to sleep forever because I don't give a fuck about anything; holy cows, is it still Tuesday?" sort of tired.
Which I have not felt since I was still in therapy.
Anyway. The other day, I had a thought: Maybe, while you're still "in recovery" (ugh) (how long does that last, anyway?) (forever?) (longer than forever?) (one day less than forever?) (more or less than six months?), you should stop thinking in terms of "good days" and "bad days." Maybe it would be more - not helpful, exactly, but saying efficient or productive would make you sound like a tool, and I can't think of any other synonyms that aren't pure psychobabble - to start thinking of "good months" and "bad months." After all, last months was pretty much pure awesome from start to finish. This month? Not so much!
Then again, maybe it would be an even better idea to stop thinking in such general terms at all, and just be thankful for the good moments. If you happen to have so many of those that they add up to a good day, well, good for you. If you go through a week or three and you can only remember a tiny handful of good moments, well, oh fucking well. Have some more good moments the next week, or the week after that. Or not.
Either way, don't beat yourself up about anything. Remember, recovery is not easy. It is, in fact, the hardest thing you've ever done. It's so hard that it makes things that seemed like a big deal when you did them (doing stand-up for the first time even though Sho couldn't make it even though she had been the one to push you to do it so soon; coming out to Cara; deciding to ignore how scared you were and just say "yes") feel easy - no, not just easy. It makes them feel mundane. Anybody could do them. Also, when you did them, you were still not doing anything about Depression, so all the hugs and all the kudos to you, bitch!
. . . All of which has been a very, very, very roundabout way of saying that I am just not feeling it today, you guys. I am in a serious funk.
Also! The second I sat down to write this entry, it occurred to me that I have always (?) said, "August is a bad month when bad things happen."
It's nice to know how right I was.
Not.
Alright, alright, here's something slightly more upbeat, taken from a conversation I had with my friend/older-sister-from-another-mister Kiki on Google+ about an hour ago: "The important thing, though, is that I love you and I love myself. Compared to that, [everything else is] meaningless."
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Ryan's Rules to Live By
[Note: These are, specifically, Ryan's rules to live by -- if you're anyone else, your results may and probably will vary.]
1. Just because you can see the future doesn't mean anyone else can (even if it is bloody obvious). This is okay. Take a deep breath and let things play out.
2. Just because you can see the future doesn't mean it has to happen. Even if it is the most wonderful thing ever imagined by anyone. That being said, "Don't stop believin'."
3. When in doubt, wear black.
4. Depression only has as much power as you give him.
4a. DON'T GIVE HIM ANY.
4b. Whenever he does start hissing in your general direction, smash him with a really big rock. Every time he starts hissing in your general direction for the rest of your life. You can do it.
5. Ponies make (almost) everything better.
6. SETBACKS HAPPEN. They make you feel worthless and that sucks out loud, but they are a totally natural, completely normal part of recovery.
Recovery, by the way, is not an easy thing.
7. If patience was easy (refer to Rule 1 and Rule 2), anybody could do it.
8. Never go anywhere without your camera.
9. Knowing what you want and trying to get it is not a bad thing . . . but you do not have to turn into a total dick -- also, turning into a total dick will usually get you the exact opposite of what you want. Duh.
10. When someone gives you a compliment, whether you think you deserve it or not, just smile and say thank you. Particularly if the "someone" in question happens to be a total stranger.
11. You're stronger than you think.
12. Giving or receiving, forgiveness feels good.
13. Your mom is just one person. There are countless people in your life (not to mention all the people you haven't met yet) who either flat-out don't care or love you more because you're gay.
13a. There are lots of people in the world who think like your mom does, but they are greatly outnumbered by people who . . . know better. It gets better. The future's going to be awesome, because we are all making it that way now.
14. Yes, okay, you screwed up. Big time. That doesn't mean you can't make amends (YOU'VE ALREADY BEEN FORGIVEN, AFTER ALL). That does mean you've learned things since then, and you'll never make the same mistake ever again.
You're really truly awesome now (finally), and all of your friends are damn lucky to have you in their lives.
15. Depression thinks you're fat.
This is a great reason to do an inordinate amount of situps and pushups just because it's a day that ends with "y."
This is a horrible reason to avoid food for days at a time.
16. Try not to take yourself (or anyone else) too seriously.
17. Life is too short to ever be anything but happy.
You're happier than ever, and good for you -- it was not easy -- but there are a few "simple" ways you could be so happy that people's brains start melting (or, um, something like that). Go get 'em.
18. Listen to your instincts. They're almost always right about everything.
19. Dare to hope.
1. Just because you can see the future doesn't mean anyone else can (even if it is bloody obvious). This is okay. Take a deep breath and let things play out.
2. Just because you can see the future doesn't mean it has to happen. Even if it is the most wonderful thing ever imagined by anyone. That being said, "Don't stop believin'."
3. When in doubt, wear black.
4. Depression only has as much power as you give him.
4a. DON'T GIVE HIM ANY.
4b. Whenever he does start hissing in your general direction, smash him with a really big rock. Every time he starts hissing in your general direction for the rest of your life. You can do it.
5. Ponies make (almost) everything better.
6. SETBACKS HAPPEN. They make you feel worthless and that sucks out loud, but they are a totally natural, completely normal part of recovery.
Recovery, by the way, is not an easy thing.
7. If patience was easy (refer to Rule 1 and Rule 2), anybody could do it.
8. Never go anywhere without your camera.
9. Knowing what you want and trying to get it is not a bad thing . . . but you do not have to turn into a total dick -- also, turning into a total dick will usually get you the exact opposite of what you want. Duh.
10. When someone gives you a compliment, whether you think you deserve it or not, just smile and say thank you. Particularly if the "someone" in question happens to be a total stranger.
11. You're stronger than you think.
12. Giving or receiving, forgiveness feels good.
13. Your mom is just one person. There are countless people in your life (not to mention all the people you haven't met yet) who either flat-out don't care or love you more because you're gay.
13a. There are lots of people in the world who think like your mom does, but they are greatly outnumbered by people who . . . know better. It gets better. The future's going to be awesome, because we are all making it that way now.
14. Yes, okay, you screwed up. Big time. That doesn't mean you can't make amends (YOU'VE ALREADY BEEN FORGIVEN, AFTER ALL). That does mean you've learned things since then, and you'll never make the same mistake ever again.
You're really truly awesome now (finally), and all of your friends are damn lucky to have you in their lives.
15. Depression thinks you're fat.
This is a great reason to do an inordinate amount of situps and pushups just because it's a day that ends with "y."
This is a horrible reason to avoid food for days at a time.
16. Try not to take yourself (or anyone else) too seriously.
17. Life is too short to ever be anything but happy.
You're happier than ever, and good for you -- it was not easy -- but there are a few "simple" ways you could be so happy that people's brains start melting (or, um, something like that). Go get 'em.
18. Listen to your instincts. They're almost always right about everything.
19. Dare to hope.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Lions and Tigers and Metaphors, Oh My
Last night it occurred to me that battling Depression is a bit like The Wizard of Oz (the movie; it's been years and years since I read any of the books): Your entire life gets uprooted by a storm that seems to come out of nowhere, so you have to go on this big long journey -- a journey full of irony and foreshadowing and other such things -- and face your worst fears, and meet all these people who either help you or harm you in some way, just to get home . . . only to discover that, in the end, you had the power to get what you wanted all along.
But you couldn't have taught yourself how to use the power if you hadn't taken the journey.
P.S. Speaking of power, here are two quotes from high school that I've recently gained a new appreciation for.
"You believed you were beautiful and so did the rest of the world." - Sarah Dessen, Keeping the Moon
"There's only one thing on this Earth more powerful than evil . . . and that's us." - Buffy Summers
But you couldn't have taught yourself how to use the power if you hadn't taken the journey.
P.S. Speaking of power, here are two quotes from high school that I've recently gained a new appreciation for.
"You believed you were beautiful and so did the rest of the world." - Sarah Dessen, Keeping the Moon
"There's only one thing on this Earth more powerful than evil . . . and that's us." - Buffy Summers
Sunday, August 7, 2011
The Truth
When I was in therapy, I had a lot of anger to deal with (funny how it and depression go together so horribly well) . . . most of which I could not express directly, since confronting my mom is a lot like punching a brick wall (except even more infuriating: if you punch a brick wall, you at least get some bloody knuckles to, you know, show for it) and my dad is dead.
Speaking of my dad being dead, I really believe that that has a lot to do with why I have depression in the first place. I always figured it was my fault that he died. Mom went out of her way to assure me and my sister that it was absolutely not in any way our fault, because she really is a good parent and a fairly stable, capable, competent person in general -- but, you know, depression is a twisted little thing. Even when you've got every possible person silently yelling at you that things are one way, you can very easily convince yourself that they are actually another way. You can very easily believe a lie, no matter how stupid it is.
For sixteen years, if you're me.
Anyway. One (enormously hugely helpful) thing I was able to do to express my anger was write down whatever was pissing me off or making me sad and then BURN IT. Of course, being the anal-retentive dork that I am, I had to first copy it onto my laptop "just in case."
Which is funny, 'cause now I'm glad I did.
This is from June 7th:
It wasn't my fault.
It wasn't anybody's fault. (If somebody must be blamed -- which is not the case -- it might be a good idea to ask why the fuck he was driving without a seatbelt, or why he took his eyes off the road!)
It just happened.
If it hadn't happened that day in that way, it would've happened another way, probably within a week.
It wasn't my fault that I spent so long thinking it was my fault. The important thing is that I'm learning how to let it go now.
It wasn't my fault.
It wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault.
I was just a little kid then, a harmless little stupid innocent seven-year-old human kid.
Dad was my hero, and it sucks that he died so horribly, but death and grief are parts of life. They are both totally normal and completely natural.
Dad died too soon, and that was terrible -- but that does not mean that everyone I love is going to die or abandon me sooner or later. I do not need to push them away to protect my heart from breaking.
I DESERVE TO BE HAPPY.
In fact, I deserve to be fucking ecstatic at least once a day, EVERY SINGLE DAY. And also make someone else fucking ecstatic. Once a day, EVERY SINGLE DAY. For the rest of my life.
Holy fuck. Realizing this after all these years feels so good. On every possible level.
Speaking of my dad being dead, I really believe that that has a lot to do with why I have depression in the first place. I always figured it was my fault that he died. Mom went out of her way to assure me and my sister that it was absolutely not in any way our fault, because she really is a good parent and a fairly stable, capable, competent person in general -- but, you know, depression is a twisted little thing. Even when you've got every possible person silently yelling at you that things are one way, you can very easily convince yourself that they are actually another way. You can very easily believe a lie, no matter how stupid it is.
For sixteen years, if you're me.
Anyway. One (enormously hugely helpful) thing I was able to do to express my anger was write down whatever was pissing me off or making me sad and then BURN IT. Of course, being the anal-retentive dork that I am, I had to first copy it onto my laptop "just in case."
Which is funny, 'cause now I'm glad I did.
This is from June 7th:
It wasn't my fault.
It wasn't anybody's fault. (If somebody must be blamed -- which is not the case -- it might be a good idea to ask why the fuck he was driving without a seatbelt, or why he took his eyes off the road!)
It just happened.
If it hadn't happened that day in that way, it would've happened another way, probably within a week.
It wasn't my fault that I spent so long thinking it was my fault. The important thing is that I'm learning how to let it go now.
It wasn't my fault.
It wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault.
I was just a little kid then, a harmless little stupid innocent seven-year-old human kid.
Dad was my hero, and it sucks that he died so horribly, but death and grief are parts of life. They are both totally normal and completely natural.
Dad died too soon, and that was terrible -- but that does not mean that everyone I love is going to die or abandon me sooner or later. I do not need to push them away to protect my heart from breaking.
I DESERVE TO BE HAPPY.
In fact, I deserve to be fucking ecstatic at least once a day, EVERY SINGLE DAY. And also make someone else fucking ecstatic. Once a day, EVERY SINGLE DAY. For the rest of my life.
Holy fuck. Realizing this after all these years feels so good. On every possible level.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Sweet & Short
[NOTE: This turned out just a bit longer than I originally planned. Heh.]
You know . . .
I am really, really, really, really, REALLY glad that I didn't kill myself in April. It seemed like a really great idea at the time (and so easy), but some tiny little indomitable part of me -- the only part that was still Ryan at this point -- wouldn't stand for it. He/I yelled "FUCK THIS FOOLISHNESS!" -- which, in retrospect, was the first time I ever punched Depression (even though I didn't teach myself to think of him as someone I could fight until late June) in his stupid face, and I'm so glad.
I just said that, didn't I? Oh well.
My point is that I am slowly -- seriously, s-l-o-w-l-y -- earning my life back, and it feels so amazing. Everything feels amazing. Even when I'm tired (which is a lot of the time, since I work too much) or pissed off (which is more than I would like, since I have to deal with stupid people quite a lot) or whatever, I am supremely grateful for every single second.
The thought that I came so close to never seeing my little sisters again is seriously scary -- but, at the same time, it just gives me even more inspiration to keep getting better. I want to be awesome for myself, obviously, but I also want them to be proud of me, even though I'm kind of a spaz. I'm always going to be kind of a spaz, honestly.
Also, I dunno. I have three best friends. (Actually, I have a handful -- but there are three in particular who I used to see more than anyone else.) My relationship with all three of them was just sort of spiraling out of control and I couldn't fix it and none of them had any idea how to deal with me -- DEPRESSION IS A STUPID FUCKFACE AND KICKING HIM FEELS GOOD -- and I am so goddamn proud of myself for choosing to stick around and try to fix that. (I'm doing a really great job so far, by the way.)
ALSO, I started seeing the future -- which is a good thing, 'cause when you're suicidally depressed you can't even deal with the thought of, you know, later the same day -- and it's slightly different every time, but it's always bright. I could go to culinary school. I could start writing full-time. I could pursue comedy professionally. I could take some photography classes. I could volunteer with some adult literacy program or other.
I could go to culinary school AND start writing full-time AND pursue comedy professionally AND take some photography classes AND volunteer with some adult literacy program or other.
Whatever I do, it's gonna be awesome.
Because I'm awesome!
I'm doing such a good job at this whole "choosing to be happy, choosing to make other people happy, choosing to telekinetically blow up Depression whenever he starts to whisper in my general direction" thing that, honestly, awesome stuff cannot stop happening to me.
Watch me shine, bitches.
P.S. Thanks, Dad. I love you.
You know . . .
I am really, really, really, really, REALLY glad that I didn't kill myself in April. It seemed like a really great idea at the time (and so easy), but some tiny little indomitable part of me -- the only part that was still Ryan at this point -- wouldn't stand for it. He/I yelled "FUCK THIS FOOLISHNESS!" -- which, in retrospect, was the first time I ever punched Depression (even though I didn't teach myself to think of him as someone I could fight until late June) in his stupid face, and I'm so glad.
I just said that, didn't I? Oh well.
My point is that I am slowly -- seriously, s-l-o-w-l-y -- earning my life back, and it feels so amazing. Everything feels amazing. Even when I'm tired (which is a lot of the time, since I work too much) or pissed off (which is more than I would like, since I have to deal with stupid people quite a lot) or whatever, I am supremely grateful for every single second.
The thought that I came so close to never seeing my little sisters again is seriously scary -- but, at the same time, it just gives me even more inspiration to keep getting better. I want to be awesome for myself, obviously, but I also want them to be proud of me, even though I'm kind of a spaz. I'm always going to be kind of a spaz, honestly.
Also, I dunno. I have three best friends. (Actually, I have a handful -- but there are three in particular who I used to see more than anyone else.) My relationship with all three of them was just sort of spiraling out of control and I couldn't fix it and none of them had any idea how to deal with me -- DEPRESSION IS A STUPID FUCKFACE AND KICKING HIM FEELS GOOD -- and I am so goddamn proud of myself for choosing to stick around and try to fix that. (I'm doing a really great job so far, by the way.)
ALSO, I started seeing the future -- which is a good thing, 'cause when you're suicidally depressed you can't even deal with the thought of, you know, later the same day -- and it's slightly different every time, but it's always bright. I could go to culinary school. I could start writing full-time. I could pursue comedy professionally. I could take some photography classes. I could volunteer with some adult literacy program or other.
I could go to culinary school AND start writing full-time AND pursue comedy professionally AND take some photography classes AND volunteer with some adult literacy program or other.
Whatever I do, it's gonna be awesome.
Because I'm awesome!
I'm doing such a good job at this whole "choosing to be happy, choosing to make other people happy, choosing to telekinetically blow up Depression whenever he starts to whisper in my general direction" thing that, honestly, awesome stuff cannot stop happening to me.
Watch me shine, bitches.
P.S. Thanks, Dad. I love you.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Remember:
Setbacks happen. They're no fun at all, but they are a natural, normal part of recovery (which, by the way, is not an easy thing).
Sometimes they happen every single day for almost a week.
This does not, in any way, make you a total failure, or somehow magically undermine all the progress you made while you were in treatment -- which, again, was a lot. Of progress, that is. You made an extraordinary amount of progress in an extraordinarily short amount of time. That's not just your own opinion, either. People who have said something to the same effect, without being asked, include, but are not limited to, three different therapists, pretty much everyone who was in group with you, one person who left group before you did (good job staying in touch with her), two of your three best friends in the world, and the big sister who is not actually technically related to you.
Also.
You know how you've been working so hard to be fucking ecstatic every single day, and make at least one other person fucking ecstatic every single day? You know how you've been working so hard to take care of yourself? You know how you've been working so hard to be as awesome as you've finally seen yourself to be? (You know how you've been making it look easy, even though it's not?)
You know how you've been doing such a good job that awesome stuff just can't stop happening to you even when you aren't trying?
The fact that you've had such a crappy week IS NOT GOING TO CHANGE THAT.
P.S. I'm really proud of you for what you did yesterday. Pretty much everyone in the whole world sucks at expressing anger in a constructive way, but you proved that it's actually fairly easy. That was spiffy.
Sometimes they happen every single day for almost a week.
This does not, in any way, make you a total failure, or somehow magically undermine all the progress you made while you were in treatment -- which, again, was a lot. Of progress, that is. You made an extraordinary amount of progress in an extraordinarily short amount of time. That's not just your own opinion, either. People who have said something to the same effect, without being asked, include, but are not limited to, three different therapists, pretty much everyone who was in group with you, one person who left group before you did (good job staying in touch with her), two of your three best friends in the world, and the big sister who is not actually technically related to you.
Also.
You know how you've been working so hard to be fucking ecstatic every single day, and make at least one other person fucking ecstatic every single day? You know how you've been working so hard to take care of yourself? You know how you've been working so hard to be as awesome as you've finally seen yourself to be? (You know how you've been making it look easy, even though it's not?)
You know how you've been doing such a good job that awesome stuff just can't stop happening to you even when you aren't trying?
The fact that you've had such a crappy week IS NOT GOING TO CHANGE THAT.
P.S. I'm really proud of you for what you did yesterday. Pretty much everyone in the whole world sucks at expressing anger in a constructive way, but you proved that it's actually fairly easy. That was spiffy.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Even in Australia
So.
It's rapidly getting better, but -- before one p.m., by the way -- today was so horrible that . . .
I had a goddamn cigarette.
I can't exactly say that it really "helped," but it did last ten full minutes, after which I did feel quite a bit more peaceful.
For about half a second.
An hour later, I had another one.
We should probably talk about it, but I don't wanna.
It's rapidly getting better, but -- before one p.m., by the way -- today was so horrible that . . .
I had a goddamn cigarette.
I can't exactly say that it really "helped," but it did last ten full minutes, after which I did feel quite a bit more peaceful.
For about half a second.
An hour later, I had another one.
We should probably talk about it, but I don't wanna.
Friday, July 29, 2011
"Helpful" Quotes
This morning was very special and somewhat stressful (we don't need to get into the details). To help deal with it, I thought I'd spend the last half of my walk to work thinking up quotes that were, well, helpful. This is what I came up with:
"Please let me get what I want." - The Smiths
==> Another quote by them that was suggested by my friend Kiki (who is one-third of the entire reason I have a Twitter): "You know where you came from, you know where you're going and you know where you belong."
"I hate that there's evil in the world. I hate that I was chosen to fight it." - Buffy Summers
"Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?" - Buffy Summers
"People say I'm pretty, and I guess I'm okay. People say I'm confident, and I know that's true." - Rachel the Animorph
"Maybe you die, but you never surrender." - Marco the Animorph
ANGELUS: Take all that away, and what's left?
BUFFY: Me.
". . . I know you love me, baby." - Lady Gaga
"It's not too late." - Aang
"You already have all the weapons you need. Now fight." - various characters from Sucker Punch
"The truth is important, but so are your friends. And if you can have them both . . . then it's a good life." - Harriet M. Welsch
"The end will justify the pain it took to get us there." - Relient K
"The beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair." - Relient K
"You are now at the hard part of getting better. But keep your head up, kid - you got this." - my friend Emily
(Sooo I clearly need to get my ass to the library sometime soon. Even when I quoted the main character of my favorite book of all time, I lifted a line from the movie.)
I may or may not have more to say about this later, but my whole experience with Depression has made me just slightly jealous of Buffy. Sure, every demon in the world eventually comes after her and her friends, whereas I only have the one to deal with . . . but, when she kills a monster, it (almost always) stays dead.
Depression never goes away forever.
At least, not so far.
But I've only been fighting him for about two and a half months. That's somewhat less than the seventeen years he's been trying to ruin my life.
I guess, when you look at it that way, it's sort of a mixed blessing that he doesn't stay dead.
Because killing him feels good.
"Please let me get what I want." - The Smiths
==> Another quote by them that was suggested by my friend Kiki (who is one-third of the entire reason I have a Twitter): "You know where you came from, you know where you're going and you know where you belong."
"I hate that there's evil in the world. I hate that I was chosen to fight it." - Buffy Summers
"Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?" - Buffy Summers
"People say I'm pretty, and I guess I'm okay. People say I'm confident, and I know that's true." - Rachel the Animorph
"Maybe you die, but you never surrender." - Marco the Animorph
ANGELUS: Take all that away, and what's left?
BUFFY: Me.
". . . I know you love me, baby." - Lady Gaga
"It's not too late." - Aang
"You already have all the weapons you need. Now fight." - various characters from Sucker Punch
"The truth is important, but so are your friends. And if you can have them both . . . then it's a good life." - Harriet M. Welsch
"The end will justify the pain it took to get us there." - Relient K
"The beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair." - Relient K
"You are now at the hard part of getting better. But keep your head up, kid - you got this." - my friend Emily
(Sooo I clearly need to get my ass to the library sometime soon. Even when I quoted the main character of my favorite book of all time, I lifted a line from the movie.)
I may or may not have more to say about this later, but my whole experience with Depression has made me just slightly jealous of Buffy. Sure, every demon in the world eventually comes after her and her friends, whereas I only have the one to deal with . . . but, when she kills a monster, it (almost always) stays dead.
Depression never goes away forever.
At least, not so far.
But I've only been fighting him for about two and a half months. That's somewhat less than the seventeen years he's been trying to ruin my life.
I guess, when you look at it that way, it's sort of a mixed blessing that he doesn't stay dead.
Because killing him feels good.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Recovery
I'm still not entirely sure what that means (and I really am sorry about that, but seriously: RESEARCHING DEPRESSION IS DEPRESSING), but hey, why in the world should that stop me? This is, after all, my blog.
A few days ago, I had the chance to explain to a very dear friend of mine that I seem to be doing so well right now because I really am doing so well right now, and I really am doing so well right now because I am taking excellent emotional care of myself right now. It's not even a little bit easy to be fucking ecstatic every single day, but I am letting myself be tired -- and, when I'm tired, I back off and, you know, rest. I'm still 100% sober, so I very rarely put myself in situations where I would be tempted to drink.
And so on and so on and so forth.
*** I know I keep saying this (actually, I just said it a few seconds ago), but the whole "choosing to be happy" thing is not easy, but I am clearly doing a great job of it. Which is perhaps best exemplified at, well, my job, where coworkers (one of whom is my manager) have said things like this to me since I've been back from group:
"You have a great attitude that's helping the store environment."
"Well, I mean, there's actually a pretty good chance that the general improvement of morale at the store has a lot to do with you being back."
"You have been so bright, shiny & new since you came back! I love the positive attitude & your customer connections."
*** Obviously, this blog is hugely helpful. Instead of just feeling my feelings and hoping for the best, I am talking about my feelings. That makes it so much easier to deal with them when they're less than pleasant. Especially considering all of the positive feedback I've received so far. People really seem to think this is an awesome idea.
*** As I said, I'm still 100% sober.
There are occasionally moments where I think "You know, I could potentially keep this up indefinitely (as long as all the vodka in the world evaporated right now)." There are also moments where I think "Oh my God, he's still talking. Oh my God, he's still talking. Oh my God, HE'S STILL TALKING AND HE STILL HASN'T ACTUALLY SAID ANYTHING. I need a fucking drink." Mostly, though, there are moments where I think about how nice it would be to go out with Kristine and Sarah and Tuesday (or whoever, but those three pop into my head the most consistently) and eat a lot of Mexican food and have a margarita and/or some Dos Equis.
The thing is, even though I made it through group and I'd personally be okay with drinking again, I'm going to stick it out for a while longer (not really sure exactly how long -- three months is coming up, and after that it's just ten days to 100, and after that it's just eleven days to 111, and I've always liked palindromes) because it just feels so great to know that whatever I'm feeling is nothing more and nothing less than exactly what I'm feeling. Which means that, if I feel something I don't like, I can change it. Whereas, before, my response to feeling something I didn't like would've been, "Let's drink until we can't feel feelings anymore!"
*** Another thing I'm not doing right now is dating. There are two reasons, one of which is that . . . well, it's like this: I've seen the future, and I'm gonna be fine when I do start dating again. There were things I did in the past, very very stupid things, that I won't do anymore because I know I'm stronger than Depression now. But I've been suffering from depression for a lot longer than I've been dealing with it, and I'd like to be able to look at just a little bit of the PAST and honestly say, "Oh hey, you know, yeah, I'm exponentially more level-headed now. We can totally date. I'll be fine (even if you do eventually start to, gasp, act like a boy). OH, AND ALSO, YOU'RE LUCKY TO HAVE ME 'CAUSE I'M FUCKING AWESOME."
It'll happen when it happens, y'all.
*** When customers ask me where I've been, I tell them I had to take some time off to deal with family issues. Which isn't the complete truth, obviously, but it is also not, in any way, a lie.
*** I've gotten into this habit of doing 250 pushups a day. And also a varying number of situps. (I have embarrassing workout music. I'm not going to tell you what it is.)
Because, you know, Depression thinks I'm fat.
Fuckface.
*** According to Wikipedia, there are seven "elements of recovery," one of which, self, is defined as: "Recovery of a durable sense of self (if it had been lost or taken away) has been proposed as an important element. A research review suggested that people sometimes achieve this by "positive withdrawal"—regulating social involvement and negotiating public space in order to only move towards others in a way that feels safe yet meaningful; and nurturing personal psychological space that allows room for developing understanding and a broad sense of self, interests, spirituality, etc. It was suggested that the process is usually greatly facilitated by experiences of interpersonal acceptance, mutuality, and a sense of social belonging; and is often challenging in the face of the typical barrage of overt and covert negative messages that come from the broader social context."
Clearly, I've pretty much got this down.
*** One thing I've been doing a lot is listening to music that encourages me in some way or another. There's one song (which I discovered during music therapy at group) that, possibly, encourages me more than any other.
That song is this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9U-Ul5qnLeQ&ob=av2n
A few days ago, I had the chance to explain to a very dear friend of mine that I seem to be doing so well right now because I really am doing so well right now, and I really am doing so well right now because I am taking excellent emotional care of myself right now. It's not even a little bit easy to be fucking ecstatic every single day, but I am letting myself be tired -- and, when I'm tired, I back off and, you know, rest. I'm still 100% sober, so I very rarely put myself in situations where I would be tempted to drink.
And so on and so on and so forth.
*** I know I keep saying this (actually, I just said it a few seconds ago), but the whole "choosing to be happy" thing is not easy, but I am clearly doing a great job of it. Which is perhaps best exemplified at, well, my job, where coworkers (one of whom is my manager) have said things like this to me since I've been back from group:
"You have a great attitude that's helping the store environment."
"Well, I mean, there's actually a pretty good chance that the general improvement of morale at the store has a lot to do with you being back."
"You have been so bright, shiny & new since you came back! I love the positive attitude & your customer connections."
*** Obviously, this blog is hugely helpful. Instead of just feeling my feelings and hoping for the best, I am talking about my feelings. That makes it so much easier to deal with them when they're less than pleasant. Especially considering all of the positive feedback I've received so far. People really seem to think this is an awesome idea.
*** As I said, I'm still 100% sober.
There are occasionally moments where I think "You know, I could potentially keep this up indefinitely (as long as all the vodka in the world evaporated right now)." There are also moments where I think "Oh my God, he's still talking. Oh my God, he's still talking. Oh my God, HE'S STILL TALKING AND HE STILL HASN'T ACTUALLY SAID ANYTHING. I need a fucking drink." Mostly, though, there are moments where I think about how nice it would be to go out with Kristine and Sarah and Tuesday (or whoever, but those three pop into my head the most consistently) and eat a lot of Mexican food and have a margarita and/or some Dos Equis.
The thing is, even though I made it through group and I'd personally be okay with drinking again, I'm going to stick it out for a while longer (not really sure exactly how long -- three months is coming up, and after that it's just ten days to 100, and after that it's just eleven days to 111, and I've always liked palindromes) because it just feels so great to know that whatever I'm feeling is nothing more and nothing less than exactly what I'm feeling. Which means that, if I feel something I don't like, I can change it. Whereas, before, my response to feeling something I didn't like would've been, "Let's drink until we can't feel feelings anymore!"
*** Another thing I'm not doing right now is dating. There are two reasons, one of which is that . . . well, it's like this: I've seen the future, and I'm gonna be fine when I do start dating again. There were things I did in the past, very very stupid things, that I won't do anymore because I know I'm stronger than Depression now. But I've been suffering from depression for a lot longer than I've been dealing with it, and I'd like to be able to look at just a little bit of the PAST and honestly say, "Oh hey, you know, yeah, I'm exponentially more level-headed now. We can totally date. I'll be fine (even if you do eventually start to, gasp, act like a boy). OH, AND ALSO, YOU'RE LUCKY TO HAVE ME 'CAUSE I'M FUCKING AWESOME."
It'll happen when it happens, y'all.
*** When customers ask me where I've been, I tell them I had to take some time off to deal with family issues. Which isn't the complete truth, obviously, but it is also not, in any way, a lie.
*** I've gotten into this habit of doing 250 pushups a day. And also a varying number of situps. (I have embarrassing workout music. I'm not going to tell you what it is.)
Because, you know, Depression thinks I'm fat.
Fuckface.
*** According to Wikipedia, there are seven "elements of recovery," one of which, self, is defined as: "Recovery of a durable sense of self (if it had been lost or taken away) has been proposed as an important element. A research review suggested that people sometimes achieve this by "positive withdrawal"—regulating social involvement and negotiating public space in order to only move towards others in a way that feels safe yet meaningful; and nurturing personal psychological space that allows room for developing understanding and a broad sense of self, interests, spirituality, etc. It was suggested that the process is usually greatly facilitated by experiences of interpersonal acceptance, mutuality, and a sense of social belonging; and is often challenging in the face of the typical barrage of overt and covert negative messages that come from the broader social context."
Clearly, I've pretty much got this down.
*** One thing I've been doing a lot is listening to music that encourages me in some way or another. There's one song (which I discovered during music therapy at group) that, possibly, encourages me more than any other.
That song is this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9U-Ul5qnLeQ&ob=av2n
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Ponies I Want
YES, I am writing about Ponies tonight. I really should be writing about recovery, since I have been back at work for a month and a day now . . . but I'm not entirely sure exactly what recovery even means! Which I could, you know, write about (who cares what it officially means? This is MY blog), but it's just a tad overwhelming. Actually, even the thought of writing a list of Ponies I'd like to add to my collection (which, let's face it, I could do at the -- it's 11:11 -- drop of a hat) seems just a tad overwhelming.
I could be annoyed with myself for feeling overwhelmed by something as simple as my own thoughts (riiight, "simple" -- shut up, I could really use a Pensieve), but I'm gonna go ahead and choose to . . . not be annoyed. 'Cause this process is, well, a process, and sometimes it's less easy than it is at other times. The important thing is that recovery is happening. And that's not just my own personal opinion; people literally cannot shut up about how much happier I've been since I went to group, how awesome I am at my job, how awesome I am at life in general, how amazing it is that I was able to make so much progress in such a short time, what a great listener I've become, etc. etc. etc. I've even been told that the improved morale at my store probably has a lot to do with me being back (um, the coworker who said so also happens to be one of my best friends in the entire world, buuut).
Eurgh. I'm rambling, and who knows if it's making a lick of sense?
Anyway. Ponies!
I want -- nay, I must have -- the following basic figures from the current Friendship is Magic line:
APPLEJACK
PINKIE PIE
LILY BLOSSOM*
CHEERILEE
SNOWCATCHER (probably won't get her unless I can find her for way cheaper than $31, which is her current asking price on eBay -- and that would be fine, since finding her on eBay for $31 was the first I've ever heard of her)
LUNA
There are also a ton of other characters from the show I would happily snatch up if they were turned into toys, chiefly Zecora, Nightmare Moon, Big Macintosh, Granny Smith, Lyra, Bon Bon, THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE, Gilda, Little Strong Heart, Derpy Hooves, and the Cutie Mark Crusaders.
Especially the Cutie Mark Crusaders! Why they haven't been released as a three-pack (for which I would gladly give Hasbro close to $30 of my hard-earned monies) is a mystery that may never get solved. I know you can get Sweetie Belle in a gift pack with Pinkie Pie, but having her without Apple Bloom and Scootaloo would just be sad.
One character from the show who HAS been turned into a toy that I DON'T want? Princess Celestia! When little girls are complaining that she's not supposed to be pink, you are doing something wrong. Take note, Hasbro.
That being said, I will eventually buy the gift set, which unfortunately includes her, for Spike. Despite not being a Pony, he may be my favorite character.
Also, I currently have three different versions of Rainbow Dash -- FiM basic, Ponyville, and pre-FiM basic (back when she was an Earth Pony who needed an umbrella). I'd like to eventually have at least six of her. Not that I'm a tad obsessed with her or anything.
The only non-FiM Pony I really want at the moment is the very first Pony I ever owned, who I have found on eBay in FANTASTIC condition. The good news there is that I am currently the highest bidder; the bad news there is that the auction lasts for another six days, so some jerkface could totally outbid me at the last possible second, and in the meantime I have to wait.
Sigh.
Tomorrow is gonna be great, and I swear I'm not just saying that.
*Purple Pegasus Pony with yellow hair. SHE IS SO GORGEOUS THAT I CAN'T STAND IT.
I could be annoyed with myself for feeling overwhelmed by something as simple as my own thoughts (riiight, "simple" -- shut up, I could really use a Pensieve), but I'm gonna go ahead and choose to . . . not be annoyed. 'Cause this process is, well, a process, and sometimes it's less easy than it is at other times. The important thing is that recovery is happening. And that's not just my own personal opinion; people literally cannot shut up about how much happier I've been since I went to group, how awesome I am at my job, how awesome I am at life in general, how amazing it is that I was able to make so much progress in such a short time, what a great listener I've become, etc. etc. etc. I've even been told that the improved morale at my store probably has a lot to do with me being back (um, the coworker who said so also happens to be one of my best friends in the entire world, buuut).
Eurgh. I'm rambling, and who knows if it's making a lick of sense?
Anyway. Ponies!
I want -- nay, I must have -- the following basic figures from the current Friendship is Magic line:
APPLEJACK
PINKIE PIE
LILY BLOSSOM*
CHEERILEE
SNOWCATCHER (probably won't get her unless I can find her for way cheaper than $31, which is her current asking price on eBay -- and that would be fine, since finding her on eBay for $31 was the first I've ever heard of her)
LUNA
There are also a ton of other characters from the show I would happily snatch up if they were turned into toys, chiefly Zecora, Nightmare Moon, Big Macintosh, Granny Smith, Lyra, Bon Bon, THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE, Gilda, Little Strong Heart, Derpy Hooves, and the Cutie Mark Crusaders.
Especially the Cutie Mark Crusaders! Why they haven't been released as a three-pack (for which I would gladly give Hasbro close to $30 of my hard-earned monies) is a mystery that may never get solved. I know you can get Sweetie Belle in a gift pack with Pinkie Pie, but having her without Apple Bloom and Scootaloo would just be sad.
One character from the show who HAS been turned into a toy that I DON'T want? Princess Celestia! When little girls are complaining that she's not supposed to be pink, you are doing something wrong. Take note, Hasbro.
That being said, I will eventually buy the gift set, which unfortunately includes her, for Spike. Despite not being a Pony, he may be my favorite character.
Also, I currently have three different versions of Rainbow Dash -- FiM basic, Ponyville, and pre-FiM basic (back when she was an Earth Pony who needed an umbrella). I'd like to eventually have at least six of her. Not that I'm a tad obsessed with her or anything.
The only non-FiM Pony I really want at the moment is the very first Pony I ever owned, who I have found on eBay in FANTASTIC condition. The good news there is that I am currently the highest bidder; the bad news there is that the auction lasts for another six days, so some jerkface could totally outbid me at the last possible second, and in the meantime I have to wait.
Sigh.
Tomorrow is gonna be great, and I swear I'm not just saying that.
*Purple Pegasus Pony with yellow hair. SHE IS SO GORGEOUS THAT I CAN'T STAND IT.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
15 Styles of Distorted Thinking
[NOTE: I did not write any of this! It's from a worksheet they had us do in therapy one day. I'm posting it here because I want y'all to read it -- well, obviously, but shut up. My point is that, if you regularly do more than half of these things, chances are you might be depressed.]
FILTERING You take the negative details and magnify them while filtering out all the positive aspects in any situation.
POLARIZED THINKING* Things are black or white, good or bad. You have to be perfect or you're a failure. There is no middle ground.
OVERGENERALIZATION* You come to a general conclusion based on a single incident or piece of evidence. If something bad happens once you expect it to happen over and over and over again, even in a different situation.
MIND READING Without being told, you know what people are feeling and why they act the way they do. In particular, you are able to infer how people feel about YOU.
CATASTROPHIZING You expect disaster to happen at any moment, even in the middle of the best day ever. You notice or hear about a problem and start playing the "what if" game: What if tragedy strikes? What if tragedy strikes YOU?
PERSONALIZATION Thinking that everything people do or say is some kind of reaction to you. You also compare yourself to others, trying to convince yourself who is or who isn't smarter, better looking, etc.
CONTROL FALLACIES If you feel externally controlled, you see yourself as helpless, a victim of fate. The fallacy of internal control makes you feel responsible for the pain and happiness of everyone around you, even when these things have little or nothing to do with YOU.
FALLACY OF FAIRNESS You feel resentful because you think you know what's fair, but no one ever seems to agree with YOU.
BLAMING You hold other people responsible for your pain, or you blame yourself for each and every little thing that's wrong, even if all you do is hear about it.
"THE SHOULDS" You have a list of ironclad rules about how you and other people should act at any given time or in any given situation. People who break the rules annoy you (even if they don't know about the rules), and you feel guilty as a whore in church if you violate the rules.
EMOTIONAL REASONING You believe that what you feel must be the truth. For example, if you feel stupid, you must be stupid.
FALLACY OF CHANGE You expect that everyone will change to suit you if you just pressure them enough (bonus points if you do so indirectly, you master manipulator, you!). You feel compelled to change people because your hopes for happiness seem to depend entirely on them.
GLOBAL LABELING You generalize one or two qualities into a negative global judgment.
BEING RIGHT* You are constantly "on trial" to prove that YOUR opinions and YOUR actions are correct. Being wrong is something that you like to think only happens to other people.
"HEAVEN'S REWARD" FALLACY You expect that all of your sacrifice and self-denial will pay off, as if someone somewhere is keeping score. You feel bitter when your richly deserved reward doesn't come when you think it should.
adapted from "Thoughts & Feelings," McKay & Davis [whoever they are]
*These things are the only ones I didn't think were a huge problem for me.
FILTERING You take the negative details and magnify them while filtering out all the positive aspects in any situation.
POLARIZED THINKING* Things are black or white, good or bad. You have to be perfect or you're a failure. There is no middle ground.
OVERGENERALIZATION* You come to a general conclusion based on a single incident or piece of evidence. If something bad happens once you expect it to happen over and over and over again, even in a different situation.
MIND READING Without being told, you know what people are feeling and why they act the way they do. In particular, you are able to infer how people feel about YOU.
CATASTROPHIZING You expect disaster to happen at any moment, even in the middle of the best day ever. You notice or hear about a problem and start playing the "what if" game: What if tragedy strikes? What if tragedy strikes YOU?
PERSONALIZATION Thinking that everything people do or say is some kind of reaction to you. You also compare yourself to others, trying to convince yourself who is or who isn't smarter, better looking, etc.
CONTROL FALLACIES If you feel externally controlled, you see yourself as helpless, a victim of fate. The fallacy of internal control makes you feel responsible for the pain and happiness of everyone around you, even when these things have little or nothing to do with YOU.
FALLACY OF FAIRNESS You feel resentful because you think you know what's fair, but no one ever seems to agree with YOU.
BLAMING You hold other people responsible for your pain, or you blame yourself for each and every little thing that's wrong, even if all you do is hear about it.
"THE SHOULDS" You have a list of ironclad rules about how you and other people should act at any given time or in any given situation. People who break the rules annoy you (even if they don't know about the rules), and you feel guilty as a whore in church if you violate the rules.
EMOTIONAL REASONING You believe that what you feel must be the truth. For example, if you feel stupid, you must be stupid.
FALLACY OF CHANGE You expect that everyone will change to suit you if you just pressure them enough (bonus points if you do so indirectly, you master manipulator, you!). You feel compelled to change people because your hopes for happiness seem to depend entirely on them.
GLOBAL LABELING You generalize one or two qualities into a negative global judgment.
BEING RIGHT* You are constantly "on trial" to prove that YOUR opinions and YOUR actions are correct. Being wrong is something that you like to think only happens to other people.
"HEAVEN'S REWARD" FALLACY You expect that all of your sacrifice and self-denial will pay off, as if someone somewhere is keeping score. You feel bitter when your richly deserved reward doesn't come when you think it should.
adapted from "Thoughts & Feelings," McKay & Davis [whoever they are]
*These things are the only ones I didn't think were a huge problem for me.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Must Be Doing Something Right
Believe it or not, but . . . it's getting to the point that I might have to start writing down nice things that other people have to say about me. Which would take quite a lot of paper.
I feel like I had a lot more to talk about tonight, but I'm too exhausted to make any attempt at coherency. Actually, I'm not even entirely sure if "coherency" is a word right now.
Yes, I'm this tired at 7:32 pm.
I have been getting this tired this early for the past few weeks. In fact, I am more or less always tired (and hungry), and have been ever since I left group and went back to work.
This is a good thing. Partly because I'm working so early that I usually have to be at work at least an hour before the sun is even thinking about waking up, so going to bed early and getting some sleep is kind of a decent idea. Mostly, though . . .
This is a good thing because, when Depression was at his -- not his strongest, but his most confusing, I guess; around this time, I knew that I was ready to learn to fight him, but I hadn't even begun to figure out how to do that, and I'm sorry that didn't make very much sense written down -- I could never sleep, ever (and my appetite rather rudely went on a quasi-permanent vacation).
So, hey, proof that I'm getting better!
I feel like I had a lot more to talk about tonight, but I'm too exhausted to make any attempt at coherency. Actually, I'm not even entirely sure if "coherency" is a word right now.
Yes, I'm this tired at 7:32 pm.
I have been getting this tired this early for the past few weeks. In fact, I am more or less always tired (and hungry), and have been ever since I left group and went back to work.
This is a good thing. Partly because I'm working so early that I usually have to be at work at least an hour before the sun is even thinking about waking up, so going to bed early and getting some sleep is kind of a decent idea. Mostly, though . . .
This is a good thing because, when Depression was at his -- not his strongest, but his most confusing, I guess; around this time, I knew that I was ready to learn to fight him, but I hadn't even begun to figure out how to do that, and I'm sorry that didn't make very much sense written down -- I could never sleep, ever (and my appetite rather rudely went on a quasi-permanent vacation).
So, hey, proof that I'm getting better!
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Hey, This is Important!
01. Depression is never right about anything.
My instincts, on the other hand, are almost always right about everything.
02. Depression thinks I'm fat.
This is a great reason to do an inordinate amount of situps and/or pushups just because it's a day that ends with "y."
This is a horrible reason to avoid food for days at a time.
03. Depression thinks I'm no good at making friends. Proving him wrong (which, by the way, easier than you might think) is fun -- fun for me, and fun for my new friends. Everybody wins! Except, of course, for Depression, who loses because he is a loser. And a fuckface.
Also, has anyone else noticed how much more my old friends love me since I got out of group? 'Cause it's a lot.
04. Depression is very very scary, but I AM FUCKING FEARLESS.
05. Depression is weaker than I am. Even when he's at his strongest, he is never even one-tenth as strong as I am on my very weakest day (proof: April 24th). This is because he has no power that I don't give him, and my spirit is indomitable.
06. Depression put up quite a fight, but I won. I saved myself.
He's a pretty sore loser. He's also an idiot. He refuses to admit that he's lost. But fighting him is easier than ever, even when he whips out the most effective attacks in his arsenal, because I don't listen to him anymore. I listen to myself now. I remind myself of everything he ruined for me, and everything he very nearly almost but not quite totally ruined for me, that I have worked so hard (and am still working) to regain.
Also, silly as it sounds, picturing him as a demon I have to fight really helps a lot. Dad was onto something when he said, "Kill him like he tried to kill you."
07. Look how happy I am without him:
My instincts, on the other hand, are almost always right about everything.
02. Depression thinks I'm fat.
This is a great reason to do an inordinate amount of situps and/or pushups just because it's a day that ends with "y."
This is a horrible reason to avoid food for days at a time.
03. Depression thinks I'm no good at making friends. Proving him wrong (which, by the way, easier than you might think) is fun -- fun for me, and fun for my new friends. Everybody wins! Except, of course, for Depression, who loses because he is a loser. And a fuckface.
Also, has anyone else noticed how much more my old friends love me since I got out of group? 'Cause it's a lot.
04. Depression is very very scary, but I AM FUCKING FEARLESS.
05. Depression is weaker than I am. Even when he's at his strongest, he is never even one-tenth as strong as I am on my very weakest day (proof: April 24th). This is because he has no power that I don't give him, and my spirit is indomitable.
06. Depression put up quite a fight, but I won. I saved myself.
He's a pretty sore loser. He's also an idiot. He refuses to admit that he's lost. But fighting him is easier than ever, even when he whips out the most effective attacks in his arsenal, because I don't listen to him anymore. I listen to myself now. I remind myself of everything he ruined for me, and everything he very nearly almost but not quite totally ruined for me, that I have worked so hard (and am still working) to regain.
Also, silly as it sounds, picturing him as a demon I have to fight really helps a lot. Dad was onto something when he said, "Kill him like he tried to kill you."
07. Look how happy I am without him:
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