Climbing out of the Hole of Depression
My most read posts are about depression. Isn't that interesting? Why is that?
I think it's because we need to talk about mental health. We need to know we aren't alone in our brain illnesses. Either we know someone suffering, or we are dealing with it ourselves. It's nice to know that someone gets it, and is dealing with it, and isn't afraid to talk about it. It connects us and helps. So, I am happy to contribute to that conversation because depression is a big part of my life. It's always there in the back of my life, waiting to take over.
I've had some crappy depression recently. Financial stresses, political climate and hard conversations, increased pressure on me to do more work and around the house, and lack of mental health support in my new land, have all contributed to my dip. It's crazy how fast I can go from fine to super duper not fine. I can go from healthy coping techniques to my brain deciding that hopelessness and disappearing from life is absolutely the thing to do. It's always surprising how fast.
I spent a few days in bed. I would get up and drive my kids to school, and then go back to bed. And then pick my kids up from school, and then go back to bed. And then go to my little soccer coaching job, and then go back to bed. In between, I would feel guilty about not eating, contributing to my family by doing dishes or laundry or shopping or cooking, and then get tired of feeling guilty and fall asleep. My brain in these times finds no hope in anything. There is no, "this will end." There is no relief. My brain comes up with a flight scenario that I should disappear. I do not respond to phone calls. I do not go to social activities. I will not engage in social interactions. The depression tells me that I need to protect and hide.
Through therapy I know I have to do a few things to climb my way out of the hole. Simple things.
1. Get out of the house. Go somewhere and see stuff. The library, the park, a drive, the store. I usually follow my husband on an errand and stay really close to him. Any decision making becomes very difficult.
2. Moving my body is great. Any method I want to move the body is just fine. If I want to walk, or do yoga, or lift weights, or row on a rowing machine, or go on a little run. Doesn't matter. Get that body moving. It helps my brain, and it is the thing I want to do the very least. It usually takes me a few days to talk myself into it.
3. Eat. This is so hard for me. I wait and wait and wait to eat and then stuff whatever is easy into my face to keep my stomach from hurting so I can go back to being nothing. And I end up waiting so long until I grab a bowl of tortilla chips and a v-8 energy drink in my face hole. It holds me over until I stuff a piece of toast in my face at the next wave of hunger. Staying ahead of the hunger with well-balanced snacks or meals is a huge hurdle. Like a cheese stick and whole wheat crackers. An apple slice and a piece turkey lunch meat. A bowl of lentils. It takes SOOOOO many spoons to make the food. (Spoon theory of effort). Like, all of the spoons I have plus extras. And everything I've ever heard about nutrition gets in my head and tells me, "I shouldn't eat simple carbs or processed food." I have to talk myself into some sense. "The best thing is just to eat real food, Evelyn. Don't worry about quantity or over think it." Just simple food that my grandma would eat. "Grandma would eat tacos. Grandma would eat chicken and potatoes. Grandma would have a tuna sandwich. Eat that. Your brain needs fuel to function."
4. Get out of my head. Because it is a dark, sad place Music. Podcasts. Shows (selectively). Gently, gently introduce ideas that get my brain thinking of something other than the nothing, sadness, overwhelming situation I feel in front of me. I love James Taylor. Love him. He sings to my soul. I have one album I listen to over and over and over again while I go in and out of sleep.
5. Tell people. Getting support from friends is helpful. I don't know why. But it helps. And I don't want to tell. It's hard. It's usually a text or a message. I usually have Ian tell someone. They will call, and I won't answer, but knowing that they know really does help. I see you called, and it matters.
6. Be patient. Wait it out. Hang on.
So...I am climbing my way out. Hi. *Waves from top of the hole to the shadows out there. Looks down at the cheeze-it crumbs I've left down on the mattress. Puts on a workout outfit and goes to the gym.
I think it's because we need to talk about mental health. We need to know we aren't alone in our brain illnesses. Either we know someone suffering, or we are dealing with it ourselves. It's nice to know that someone gets it, and is dealing with it, and isn't afraid to talk about it. It connects us and helps. So, I am happy to contribute to that conversation because depression is a big part of my life. It's always there in the back of my life, waiting to take over.
I've had some crappy depression recently. Financial stresses, political climate and hard conversations, increased pressure on me to do more work and around the house, and lack of mental health support in my new land, have all contributed to my dip. It's crazy how fast I can go from fine to super duper not fine. I can go from healthy coping techniques to my brain deciding that hopelessness and disappearing from life is absolutely the thing to do. It's always surprising how fast.
I spent a few days in bed. I would get up and drive my kids to school, and then go back to bed. And then pick my kids up from school, and then go back to bed. And then go to my little soccer coaching job, and then go back to bed. In between, I would feel guilty about not eating, contributing to my family by doing dishes or laundry or shopping or cooking, and then get tired of feeling guilty and fall asleep. My brain in these times finds no hope in anything. There is no, "this will end." There is no relief. My brain comes up with a flight scenario that I should disappear. I do not respond to phone calls. I do not go to social activities. I will not engage in social interactions. The depression tells me that I need to protect and hide.
Through therapy I know I have to do a few things to climb my way out of the hole. Simple things.
1. Get out of the house. Go somewhere and see stuff. The library, the park, a drive, the store. I usually follow my husband on an errand and stay really close to him. Any decision making becomes very difficult.
2. Moving my body is great. Any method I want to move the body is just fine. If I want to walk, or do yoga, or lift weights, or row on a rowing machine, or go on a little run. Doesn't matter. Get that body moving. It helps my brain, and it is the thing I want to do the very least. It usually takes me a few days to talk myself into it.
3. Eat. This is so hard for me. I wait and wait and wait to eat and then stuff whatever is easy into my face to keep my stomach from hurting so I can go back to being nothing. And I end up waiting so long until I grab a bowl of tortilla chips and a v-8 energy drink in my face hole. It holds me over until I stuff a piece of toast in my face at the next wave of hunger. Staying ahead of the hunger with well-balanced snacks or meals is a huge hurdle. Like a cheese stick and whole wheat crackers. An apple slice and a piece turkey lunch meat. A bowl of lentils. It takes SOOOOO many spoons to make the food. (Spoon theory of effort). Like, all of the spoons I have plus extras. And everything I've ever heard about nutrition gets in my head and tells me, "I shouldn't eat simple carbs or processed food." I have to talk myself into some sense. "The best thing is just to eat real food, Evelyn. Don't worry about quantity or over think it." Just simple food that my grandma would eat. "Grandma would eat tacos. Grandma would eat chicken and potatoes. Grandma would have a tuna sandwich. Eat that. Your brain needs fuel to function."
4. Get out of my head. Because it is a dark, sad place Music. Podcasts. Shows (selectively). Gently, gently introduce ideas that get my brain thinking of something other than the nothing, sadness, overwhelming situation I feel in front of me. I love James Taylor. Love him. He sings to my soul. I have one album I listen to over and over and over again while I go in and out of sleep.
5. Tell people. Getting support from friends is helpful. I don't know why. But it helps. And I don't want to tell. It's hard. It's usually a text or a message. I usually have Ian tell someone. They will call, and I won't answer, but knowing that they know really does help. I see you called, and it matters.
6. Be patient. Wait it out. Hang on.
So...I am climbing my way out. Hi. *Waves from top of the hole to the shadows out there. Looks down at the cheeze-it crumbs I've left down on the mattress. Puts on a workout outfit and goes to the gym.
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I see you. Keep climbing. 💜
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