A Silver-Ribbon Day

Remember The Bloggess, and how she declared silver ribbons were for depression?  Yeah.  I'm wearing one today (metaphorically).

You see, my depression is so spotty.  When I'm doing something fun you or relaxing, I'm fine.  I'm cheerful.  Don't have to fake it a bit.  But then I get irritated and it all goes to pot.

I've been thinking about the body's 'pain-gating' mechanism.  You know -- where if you, for instance, break a leg, you don't really feel the sprained finger or the sunburn quite as much.  Your body prioritizes its pain.  That is why we scratch an itch.  The irritation of the itch gets replaced by the minor pain of scratching it, and the irritation diminishes.

I think that's why I get angry when I'm irritated.  Anger feels better -- more active -- than irritation.  I lash out (usually on quite a small scale) at whomever has bugged me (sadly, usually my family), and it is a release.  Right before I lash out, I feel overfull.  Bursting.  Like my eyes are being pushed out from pressure, like my very breath is being pressurized.  A quick yell or slapping my hands down on a desk or stomping my feet opens the valve a bit and brings the pressure back down.

But when I'm having a kind of tough time, the pressure just rises right back up.  What helps?  Exercise.  No, really.  The actual physical act of running or lifting weights or using the Elliptical just whooshes the pressure right out.  It really empties me out, in a good way.  Gives me a lot more room.  Also a glass or two of wine helps temporarily in that it seems to loosen the outer skin of my balloon.  It also gives me some flexibility, but it's not ideal by any means.

If I could get myself to exercise nearly every day, that would be a valve that I could rely on.  I must do this.  So far (other than the meds I'm on and the talk therapy I participate in sometimes), that's the best control I have.

[Amended:  Yesterday, I played some terrifically difficult and cathartic music on my flute for an hour.  THAT was almost as good as a physical workout.]

Silver Ribbons: An Unpleasant Ode to Depression

Well, you all know The Bloggess.  And if you don't please go read her stuff. It's amazing.  Also Hyperbole and a Half.  SHE's amazing too.

They both recently posted blog entries about their experiences with depression.  It was brave of them.  The Bloggess suggested wearing silver ribbons in solidarity with other sufferers and such.

Well, I don't have a silver ribbon, but I do have depression. And it kind of sucks.

You see, I have a lovely life.  No really.  I do.  My husband is nice, my kids are cool and not headed towards becoming mass-murderers at the moment, I have awesometastic friends, reasonably unobjectionable family (Steve, if not for you I could have said "fabulous," but you wreck the curve.) members, and a really fun job.

What in the HELL do I have to be depressed about?

The answer to that is "nothing."  It doesn't take crappy situations to make depression.  Crappy situations or events lead to SADNESS. That is not the same thing.  Sadness is a normal reaction to sad or frustrating or unhappy things.  Depression is unfair, unpredictable, and downright rude.  It's chemical, you see.

Lately, all I've wanted to do is sleep and eat Pizza Rolls.  Now, I'm not one to scoff at an occasional loll.  I love to loll.  Love to lay about and eat bon-bons and watch "Say Yes to the Dress."  That's an indulgence I enjoy with glee (but not Glee.  I really don't like the show).  But that is a deliberate "make a fire, gather the dogs and blankets, and shrug off the boredom and toil of everyday living and just relax" kind of indulgence.

This is not so much.  It is ... unintentional.  I don't really want to sleep.  I don't really ENJOY eating pizza rolls.  But it seems like the only thing to do.  When I'm working (teaching/playing), I"m fine.  I'm enjoying it.  When I'm with friends, it's awesome!  When I'm out and about, I'm totally fine.  But.  When I'm on my own and the choices are:
1:  clean the house
2: do laundry
3: do errands
4: go back to bed
Well, I choose 4.

And when I'm done being depressed and stupid, and I go to work or something, I wonder what in the WORLD was wrong with me!  It is so much FUN to be out and about and working and interacting.  It makes me so happy!

But boy oh boy is it hard to get to that point.

I have called up a counselor and will be setting up some appointments soon.  I know it must be something weird like chemicals, because there really is NO reason for all of this.  Therefore, my reaction is illogical.  And I am not normally a low-self-motivation person.  So, this anomaly is just that.

But what a crapper, really.
I've fallen and I can't get up!.

Yet.