What just happened?

I woke up the other day with a notification email saying that a comment was left on this blog. It was the strangest thing I have seen in awhile, and I live on the internet.

Things I wrote actually have been read (and commented on) by other people? 

Anyway, I had abandoned this blog quite some time ago, feeling like no one ever read it. Plus I went through more bouts of depression and illness, and after getting better again, I had completely forgotten this blog even existed.

I had considered ignoring the comment, even though it was positive and wonderful, and I was excited that I had affected someone at all. I have been thinking about it and seeing more and more comments come in and views being logged, I decided that a whole blog about illness and depression should probably not just end so abruptly. Just in case anyone got concerned.

So here I am, letting everyone know that I actually am okay.

I got a job and treatment for my Crohn's; I eventually stopped going to my therapist because I felt SO MUCH BETTER, then I got a little worse again (but that was mostly because my job was killing me and my soul very slowly).

I eventually got let go from there and I've gone through a couple of other treatments in the meantime. I was unemployed for a few months and then finally got a new job! I'm exercising and eating right and will eventually get back down to a healthy weight and maybe even able to kick some ass (baby steps).

I'm going back and forth on if I should continue this blog. I suppose maybe it just depends on if there's any call for it. Or maybe I'll read through these posts and re-inspire myself to continue. Who knows?

If I don't, don't worry about me. But if I do, you are always welcome here. (I mean, you'll be welcome here regardless, but I may not engage at all). I might even just link to my other blog from here if I decide not to, I don't know. We'll see.

Until then, take care of yourselves!
<3

Remission is Weird, part 2, or: "Oh yeah..."

As I write this I realize this might have been written a little out of order; I should have written this post first. I was just so excited about it all that I dove in head-first. Oh well...

The other day, I was folding laundry and letting my mind wander. I was stuck on a pretty toxic line of thought: things I can't do because of energy levels. If you read the last post, then you know that this is a load of bullshit (I do still have Crohn's, but that is also in remission, minus my arthritis issues).

Well, I was mid-thought: "I just don't have the energy because of the Crohn's and depression...wait a second..." when I got the idea for these couple of articles. I'm not depressed anymore. I do have the energy to do things. I no longer have an excuse to not do chores or exercise, or even have fun (this makes sense to my depressed brothers and sisters out there). So what the fuck am I waiting for?

Things I excused myself from (whether legitimately or not): chores around the house, self-improvement, eating well, personal hygiene (gross, I know), wearing at least jeans instead of sweatpants in public, breaking habits, making friends, starting hobbies, and the list goes on.

So now, I have identified my (lack of a) problem. Now I need to completely retrain myself to stop thinking I'm depressed as a way to not try to flourish in life. I am finally in a position to live. And now is where it gets terrifying. Because this is where I have to exist outside my comfort zone. I should have started earlier, but hindsight's a bitch.

This is where this blog changes, as I go out into the wilds and report back my findings to the Depressed Continent. Hmm...that would have made a much better name for this blog.

Remission is weird, part 1 or: SO MUCH ROOM FOR ACTIVITIES!

Being depressed, one is more likely to sleep long hours or while the day away passively. Binge-watching TV shows is a common "hobby" of the depressed, and I know that I tended to escape into Walter Mitty-esque fantasies to keep entertained.

Now that I'm in remission, however, I sleep like a normal person (a little less, I think). I have energy to spare and so sitting for hours at a time consuming movies and shows is not really a thing I want to do. Don't get me wrong--I can still get sucked into Top Gear for literally an entire week--but I also know that if I do this, I run the risk of becoming depressed again. The same goes for video games, too. For TV, I make sure I'm doing something at the same time (currently, that means crocheting), and for video games, I just limit them to when everyone else is asleep.

So then, what else is there to do? Try out different hobbies and pick up the ones I have during upswings, of course.

Hobbies I had before: writing and crafts. I'm still trying to get into the mindset of writing, but the internet has such a strong pull on me that it is difficult to concentrate. I have to stick with notebooks and stay away from rooms with monitors in them. Behaviorism is a bitch. For crafting, I sketch, use pastels, and generally make different things like decorations (I made the majority of stuff I hung up around Christmastime). The downside to all of this, is when I'm tapped out of ideas. I don't know what to do at that point. Plus crafting (even with my 30% discount at the store I work at) costs money.

I also like to go hiking when the weather is better, and maybe this year my husband and I will go camping...

New hobbies I have recently picked up: ...more crafting. I know, I know, it's not exactly new, but it is a completely different thing than I'm used to. I'm crocheting now, and I have just finished my first real project (a really, really long scarf). I'm also taking an Intro to Studio Art class this semester, so I'll be forced to keep up with different techniques and getting projects done. I have to maintain a blog for the class, but after the semester's over, I'll transfer all those pictures onto either this blog or to The Reachings (my writing blog that I will eventually start adding to again).

I'm also going to start reading again, starting with Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace. The plan is that I'll start to compile a list of books I actually want to read, and then just keep pulling from that as I go.

My point in all this, is that depression takes your whole goddamned life away from you. You have no energy, and you get this overwhelming sense that there is just no time to do anything, no point to learning things, and in the overall scheme of things, who gives a fuck?

But I do. Especially now. Now that I have control of my life again, control of my time and energy and happiness again, I'm going to grab life by the balls and do what I can to fill up my time with things I think are worthwhile.

Part 2 is going to be about how my mindset didn't change right away, and just how...jarring...that can be.

Psychiatric Philosophy

One of the things you hear said a lot from those who have depression is that it is a "disease." You usually only get the two opposing views of it; either it's a disease or "it doesn't exist." You are either crippled or you are just lazy, and neither of these views are particularly helpful.

If you are in the mindset I discussed in the previous post, then the disease model sounds the most accurate: it is crippling, you're not faking, and for many people, it feels like a "forever" thing.

Before I go any further, I just wanted to let you all know that I'm not suddenly going against the disease model just because of what my therapist told me on Tuesday. This is a question I've been struggling with since I was coached in Behavioral Activation: if depression is a disease with real, biological causes, how is it that something like getting out of the house more often can be "prescribed" by real doctors--isn't this just the medical equivalent of "just get over yourself?"

Well...the answer is a resounding kinda.

Depression, as far as we understand it, is caused by a combination of bio-psycho-social influences. This means that there is a physical (biological) component, a social component (where the people around us as well as the environment itself have influence), and a psychological component (our thinking habits, to put it simply). 

It is these three things that combine to make us depressed. Once one or all of these become a little too strong or a little too "depressive" in nature, then we start to spiral down. This can happen slowly or all at once, but it is something that snowballs, meaning the individual components stack up against you if you let them.

Obviously, we can't change our genetics. If depression runs in our family, then there is a good chance we're going to become depressed. It's not set in stone exactly, but the possibility still remains. For the other components, however, we have some control.

In a perfect world, we have loving, supportive families that accept us no matter what and always have our back. We have many close friends that help us to better ourselves and see the good in the world. We have a loving significant other who it is always a joy to be around. How many of you are laughing cynically right now? Yeah, that's what I thought.

BUT we can make sure that toxic relationships (SOs who abuse us, friends who degrade us, and family who uses us) are cut out of our lives. We can also take the lead when it comes to finding new friends. This is one area where behavioral activation comes in.

This is obviously easier said than done, especially when in the middle of a depressive episode. Also, depending on how deep you've gotten, this may very well be impossible for the time being. So then, aside from getting psychotropic drugs (which I really do recommend if you need them), you have your thought patterns left.

This is where CBT, or cognitive behavioral therapy, comes in. This is where you take every thought you have and analyze it until it is no longer harmful in nature. I won't go too in depth about it right now, but basically you try to get yourself to stop thinking distortedly. 

So how does this get you better?

Imagine for a second that your brain is a lump of clay and your thoughts are pressurized water streams. Right now, as a depressed individual, you have certain ways of thinking (depressed thinking) that are the easiest to you. These thoughts run a specific course (hypothetically) in your clay-brain, and this course is the path of least resistance, pre-carved for you by a lifetime (or whatever) of those pressurized water streams blasting away at specific spots.

Now think about if you try to get yourself to think differently, more positively. It's still a stream of water, and even at the same pressure as the depressed thinking, but it's trying to go through a pathway that's either not there at all, or at least very narrow and unused. But the more you keep at it, the more you are going to carve yourself a new way of thinking. These ways will be just as easy to use as the old, depressive ways. 

This process will be made a lot easier if you make other changes: to your environment, to your physical chemistry (through drugs), to your social circle, and to your physical health (through proper diet and exercise, sun exposure, etc.). It takes a lot of work, but depression doesn't have to be the end of your life. It doesn't have to control you. 

And don't think for one goddamned second that this post invalidates your suffering: this shit is real and harmful and it sucks. But just like having to relearn how to walk after an injury, you can relearn how to be happy again (or even for the first time), it just takes a shit load of practice.

I hope this helps you understand depression a little better, and maybe helps a couple of you get the help you need and set you on a path to recovery...

~ <3

Weird and Wonderful News

My last psychology appointment was on Tuesday the 6th, and I was told something I had never heard before: I was at a good enough place, mentally, that we could forego making another appointment until I felt I needed another.

This is, obviously, good news. But it's strange all the same. Those of you who are depressed or have been depressed will totally understand this line of reasoning: it is very hard to admit that you are getting better.

So many people (well-intentioned or not) will be quick to point out that depression is just a "phase" or just a fleeting "bad mood" that will pass just as quickly as it came. We have to fight to be taken seriously, so it is hard to show others when we have our occasional good day. A good day is very often taken as fodder for why depression really isn't a "thing" and so we should just snap out of it because we "totally did it the other day."

None of us want to be depressed, but partaking in Behavioral Activation can be misconstrued as "bucking up." The very methods for getting better are loaded situations, and this makes for an even harder recovery. It's bad enough trying to recover with someone who understands it having your back!

So to be in a situation where I have been free to try out different methods, to get better, to celebrate the good days instead of hiding them...I have finally gotten to a good place. My wonderful, fucking amazing husband has supported me and I have had an awesome, knowledgeable doctor, too, so I am indeed extremely lucky.

To those of you who are struggling to get better, know that it is possible. Know that it may take years, and so much trial and error that it all feels like a mistake, and there will be pain and hardship and idiots that stand in your way, but it is worth it, and you are worth it. Trust me, if no one else, okay?

I started this blog long into years of therapy and drugs and research and I don't want to misrepresent what a recovery looks like. Hell, that road looks different for every person anyway. And there is something else to remember, too: I can't stop here. There is a lifetime of monitoring ahead, and when (not if) that fails, the inevitable battle to get back to where I am today. I'm also still not 100%, either, I'm just good enough right now that I don't need a therapist holding my hand.

I have taken these things into consideration and, though it wasn't required, I went ahead and made an appointment for a month from the last one, just in case. I know myself enough to know that I might slip between here and then and may need some encouragement (beyond my husband's capabilities), and if there is no appointment scheduled, I'll just put it off. And put it off. Until I'm back again, hiding under a blanket, locked in my closet, wishing I were dead.

I don't want to get to that point again. But I could. Knowing that about myself is the most important step, tied with admitting that I may be on that path again. And really, that's what mental health is all about: learning enough about yourself that you can take every step possible to make sure you stay okay or are working to get there. Even those who have never had problems need to keep tabs on their stress levels.

So everyone who is reading this right now, do yourself a favor: pay attention to how you feel. What your moods are telling you, what your body is telling you, what your friends are telling you...it could literally save your life. Or at least save you a hell of a lot of money and misery!

Happy New Year!

Hey everyone! (or at least the one other person who reads this blog)

How have things been? Have you made any resolutions?

Personally, I have vowed to make this an awesome year--depression be damned, Crohn's be damned...I'm hopefully going to do things right this year. I know there is a HUGE chance this is just a silly little energy boost with another new beginning that will wane in just a few more days, so if I fail, I won't be too terribly shocked. But I do have a little bit of hope I'm drumming up for myself.

Ah, who am I kidding?? This year is going to suck just as much as the last one, and the two or so decades before that...but what I CAN do--what even YOU can do--is make sure this bout of hope and energy is put to good use, not toward worrying about what's around the corner, or how everything is going to catch up and you/I'll start feeling like absolute shit again. We know our pattern, so let's use it to our advantage, eh guys?

So what are your 2015 resolutions? What plan do you have in place for once your soul gets sucked out again? What's your contingency plan for in case this doesn't actually happen and you are back to being a normal human being again? TRICK QUESTION--there's no such thing. So far as I can tell, there's no such thing as normal, healthy, happy human beings. We all have something wrong with us whether mental or physical or both, it's just how we present ourselves to the world that makes the difference. It's how we put this knowledge or ourselves and others to use that makes us successful or "surviving," and slowly I'm starting to realize that each of us is actually capable of the whole "success" thing, so long as we are completely willing to change from the bottom of our souls, no matter how painful looking into those depths may be.

So hold out hope for yourself, you beautiful son of a bitch, because I have hope for you, and I'm kind of a cynical little douche.

~ML

What's been going on lately...

So I have been handling my realization that I'll never get a degree a little harder than I originally thought. I was surprised at my ability to handle it, but it turns out I was just suppressing my feelings about it.

I am disappointed in myself and angry at the system. I feel like psychological community is missing out on someone who could have helped out a lot, and this makes me sad. And then, of course, the inevitable embarrassment at not being able to function like a normal human being...

Needless to say, it's hitting kinda hard.

I had tried to use the military as my "one last chance to not be a failure," and then once I got medically retired and emotionally worked through that train wreck, just jumped headlong into this one...I don't know what the hell I'm going to do with myself now. I had plans of writing and just working where I can for now--which I'm still planning on--but it just feels so...hollow. Pointless. It isn't, but my emotional state at the moment is making it seem that way.

So today's lesson, I guess, is that just because something seems hopeless or worthless or even good and worthwhile, doesn't mean it is--it just means that that's how we are viewing it at the given moment. Everything is in flux. This line of thinking can be humbling or uplifting, depending on how we see ourselves at the moment, knowing that--given some time--it'll change, but either way it's okay because this just means we're human. That we are alive. Things that don't change, that remain in stagnation, wither and die. So even thought that's kinda what I want to do right now I know that I'll feel differently soon because I'm still alive.

It's easy to forget how you felt when you were depressed while in remission, or the other way around, but it's important that you don't. While your head is above the waters of despair you can gather information and insight to cling to once the current inevitably pulls you back under, and that insight can help sustain you. The more you practice, the better you'll get, and maybe--just maybe--you'll break free of the cycle.

I'm mainly just rambling now and I need to get ready for work, so I'll just stop here.
Stay well, guys.

At the Moment

Right now I am on the final lap through this semester, one that I am fairly certain I'm going to fail miserably...so for right now, this blog might hit a bit of a standstill. I am still alive and doing somewhat okay, but busy being either, well, busy, or depressed/sick. I hope to be able to make a more "real" post later on today. This may or may not actually happen. I don't know.

But until then, know that I will definitely return soon!

Journaling Hows and Whys

Okay, so after having my terrible Wednesday and taking Thursday to chill (and work, admittedly), I feel like it's officially okay to attempt this again.

When it comes to the internet (and official literature that didn't have a paywall), so many people say that journaling is a good idea. It is a good idea for psychoanalysis, CBT, treating PTSD, behavioral activation, migraines, and just regular life among a million other applications as well, I'm sure. However, it's not necessarily something one is apt to do naturally. It feel silly, if I'm honest, at least until you get used to it. I only got really into it in the past year or so and even then it took awhile to get somewhat consistent about it.

I guess, technically, it was always "journaling," but it didn't feel that way. I had read somewhere that you can improve your working memory if you always write everything down. Supposedly this allows your brain to stop trying to hold on to a bunch of unnecessary information so you can focus better on what matters. So I wrote everything down. Grocery lists, schedules, room numbers, directions, idle thoughts, story ideas, complaints--everything. It was mostly on loose leaf paper in my school binder, but eventually I got little notebooks that I could carry around. This might be the beginning of my "pretty journals" obsession...Anyway, this note-taking led to journaling. Kinda. I didn't notice an increase in my mental powers, so I tapered off fairly quickly. When I switched over to journaling about my day, I completely stopped. Eventually I stopped carrying a notebook with me. I didn't really start back up until a couple years ago, and it didn't really get serious until last year, I think, when my depression bottomed-out again.

So what do I journal about now? Anything. Everything. I write about my day, my thoughts, I bitch about people/classes, I record my physical as well as mental health (though not as much as my doctors would like). I evaluate how I handled different problems and why, I make plans for Christmas decorations...

Do you want to start? Find a notebook that you like, or bind some loose leaf together in a folder. Then...well...start. There are a bunch of different techniques you can try, but research has shown (if you read any of the six links up top) that the most beneficial way to do this is to write about potential gains from problems you face. Basically just re-evaluating shitty situations and trying to find anything you could learn or grow from. This keeps you focused on more reflexive topics while not just dwelling on the negative.

If this deeper writing isn't for you, you can try more surface things like the route I took, writing everything down. There is also even more subtle things where you simply record the weather for each day. You can even take the more CBT-focused route and just record thoughts and feelings that you have.

If you are more creatively inclined (you don't have to be good at this, just enjoy it), you can start something called an art journal, too! Basically you take a topic and you draw/paint/photograph/sculpt/modge podge/collage it. It can be something really emotional such as a break up, or it could be fairly simple like taking a concept ("freedom") and making an entry representing that. To get the most out of this, I would suggest writing something alongside these entries so you can have something more concrete to look back on.

And for the most benefit, make sure you do look back! You can compare and see how you've grown or find patterns that are destructive. And if you have a therapist, then I would suggest bringing up your journal with them and seeing if they want to go over certain things with you. Having a trained second set of eyes can help eliminate some bias that may blind you to certain defenses or faults.

I think I might start posting journal topics for you guys either on a separate page or on the side bar, I don't know.
There is now a journaling topics page! Last update to it was on 11/25 at 1:26 am.

Have you had any experience with journaling you'd like to share? Maybe pictures of your journals themselves (I'm a sucker for a nice notebook)? Please comment below!

Trudging Through Tar

Hey. Today, I'm supposed to be writing about journaling and the different ways to get started. But right now I'm about ready to just curl up in my bed and ride out a shitty bout of self-hatred. I know, I know, I'm supposed to be over this by now, right? Wrong. I'm pretty much stuck with this stupid disease for the rest of my life (probably), and right now I'm pretty fucking sick of it.

I'm tired of the struggle, of the pain, of the upswings where I look around and realize that everything I've felt so sad about is silly, and then the anxiety behind the knowledge that I'm going to slip face-first into the tar pit of despair again when I least expect it (like today), and then the aforementioned slip itself. Right now I just want to give up. To go to sleep and not wake up...

But I can't. I know that on a long-term sort of scale, I'll get better--even if only for about a day or two--and then I'll do something that makes this stupid life worth it; be it a blog post, a helpful comment on reddit, or even just holding the door open for someone who really needed a little bit of kindness that day. Because, you see, no one lives in a vacuum. No matter how much you try to isolate yourself, someone is affected by what you do for better or worse. Little actions lead to big results that, honestly, you may never see, but they are there. You matter. I matter. As much as I wish I didn't...

So trudge on I shall. Although, right now I'm just going to lay down with the covers over my head until I can stop crying long enough to distract myself (probably with video games). I'm not going to lie, depression sucks. Big time.

Hang in there, friends. It gets better.

The Project

So a while back, Dr. S looked at my activity log and mentioned that journaling is one of my "values." I kinda did a little mental twinge, but just tucked it away for later. The question lingered, though: how the fuck is "journaling" a value?

Eventually I revisited that--y'know, shower thoughts and all that--and came to the conclusion that journaling isn't a value; it is an action that expresses a value. So what is that value? I came up with a few: introspection, reflection, emotional processing, expression, and self understanding. After that I thought about what other activities express might express values that I don't even pay attention to. Yeah, that's a bit of a mouthful.

Anyway.

That's where I got the idea for The Project. Maybe there are other aspects of my life I could examine and learn from. It's a little psychoanalytical, but either way, here's the general idea:

I'm going to take every aspect of my life and dissect it. I'm not trying to find anything wrong or second-guess my every move from birth or anything, just identify patterns and associations. I'll write lists, essays, draw pie charts--however best to present my data--and then analyze the shit out of it. Like I said, psychoanalytical.

Some ideas for topics include relationships with other people--good, bad, indifferent--and how/why they got that way. The list of activities I already mentioned was the first entry. Also I've got habit, pet peeves, prejudices, thing that disgust me, defense mechanisms, hopes, dreams, and common/repeated problems. There are many other things I can/will evaluate, but this is more than enough to get me started. This is also on top of my novel, my creative writing blog, and this blog too, so it may take awhile, but in the end it'll be worth it.

Plato had written, "Know thyself." It was an admonishment of cocky young fucks, and I know this project of mine may sting--it will certainly bring up some harsh memories if I manage to stay honest with myself.

Maybe I'll post some bits from this Project, but I can't guarantee that. I will, however, post some of the topics I use with explanations of just what the hell I'm talking about. I really encourage all of you who feel fairly stable to take a shot. Those of you still trudging through the tar might want to stick to more "life-affirming" topics. In fact, I think that's what Wednesday will be about.

~Stay warm, kiddies (unless you live in the Southern Hemisphere--you guys stay cool)!

Friday Check-In!

Hey everyone!

So I haven't done this sort of thing in a while, but here we are again. I have actually been through a lot, recently--not anything bad necessarily, just a lot.

Firstly, I have a new job (as I've said already). I work at a craft store, selling fake flowers to old ladies and yarn to hipsters. It's going pretty darn well: they keep their side of the Americans with Disabilities Act by allowing me to sit on a stool at the register and take breaks when I need it when I'm working the floor (there's not much else for them to do with me, really). So there's that. But then there's something else.

I think I may not finish my degree.

Just a few months ago, and I would be so ashamed of myself, saying that I'm worthless and useless and I'd never be able to amount to anything or help anybody unless I straight up got my doctorate. I do feel silly; I've been pretty proud of myself for planning on making to so long in the college game. But that's all it was: planning. I tried to take credit for something that never really happened. *cringe*

So what will I do instead, you ask? I don't have a f*cking clue (as I also have already said). But I really think I might get a kick out of trying to do this blog for realsies. This means that I'd have to write much more consistently and actually try to get readers instead of this, "I want but don't want people to read my stuff 'cuz I'm a silly little girl," crap. Either way, this could really only mean good things to come for this blog as I'll have to up the quality and actually think about what I'm posting before I do so.

Also, I have another blog that I started awhile ago called The Reachings, that is a lot more creative writing-based that I will be starting back up on. This one might actually become my job one day, so if you care at all, check it out! Right now it's a lot of old stuff, but soon after posting this, I'll be putting up some other writings and posting my plans for it there.

My goals for this next week, then:
1. Come up with "real" posts for this blog. Maybe about a month's worth.
2. Write and edit those posts (at least 2 weeks' worth).
3. Don't panic!
4. Figure out how I'm going to get through two more semesters of school while also knowing that none of it actually makes a bit of difference.

Wish me luck on these things. Maybe I can actually help people without a degree...

Procrasturbation and What's Next

So I don't know what the f*ck to do with my life.

I'm in school right now for psychology, which I love and I'm actually pretty good at--but I am not college material. I should have known this from the start, but I kept deluding myself, thinking, "Maybe this year I'll get my shit together," "Okay, so last semester sucked, but maybe I'll turn everything around this Spring," which inevitably leads to, "Oh...well, shit. Maybe I'll do better in my summer classes."

I'm not stupid, don't get me wrong. If college was just tests, I'd have graduated six times by now. I absorb information like a sponge, but ask me to write a paper and do a presentation, and I'll fuck it up 9 out of 10 times. I hate it. And there is a whole process to it, too.

First, I get the assignment. "Oh that's neat," I'll say. Or maybe even, "That's a dumb topic, but whatever." I tell myself that it'll be easy, or maybe not easy but I don't need to start three months in advance when teachers usually give these assignments. 

Then, I promptly forget about it. I might think about my topic for a day, but then I write it off.

About a month into my class, the teacher brings it up again. Okay, planning time. I can make an outline by this date. This day, I'll pick out what resources I'm going to use. This other day I'll write the first really crappy draft. Then I'll let the topic sit until x date. That day I'll go through and polish it up, sort my resources, etc. Then I'll have a finished draft by...oh...another month before it's due.

Forget about it again.

Two weeks before it's due and people around me start talking about doing research for it. Hm. I should probably get on that.

Forget about it again.

For the next two weeks, I'll be reminded again and again that I have a paper to do, and then--again and again--I'll forget about it. About four days before the paper is due, I'll start to think about it more. Maybe dabble in some research for it. Make that outline. Then I'll go back to video games and hobbies (admittedly with a little more fervor than before) until the night before or the day of and go, "Oh shitshitshitshit," the whole time I'm writing meaningless bullshit.

Alternatively, I'll not do it, and just duck my head down for the next few class periods until the whole paper thing blows over so I don't get the disapproving look and a "Did you send me your paper?"

If I turn the paper in, I usually get an A, which probably just reinforces my procrastinating behaviors--if I get an A with only a day's worth of shitty work, why try?--but overall I alone am responsible for my actions.

There's also some (read: a lot) of perfectionistic tendencies plus defense mechanisms influencing my behavior as well. If I get a bad grade on a paper that I actually tried on, then I'm much more hurt than if I didn't try at all. But it feels like my whole brain shuts down when I sit to type a paper that I know is not going to be good, right up to the "shitshitshit" point.

So What's Next

Fuck if I know. Seriously, though, I am using the GI Bill right now (for which I am eternally grateful), but it's being used on a degree I'm not entirely sure I can finish. I'm not even motivated to finish it, anymore, now that I really have a sense of what I'm actually capable of. It doesn't help knowing that it only covers 3 years of a 4 year program, so even if I got straight A's I would still have to wait until I could afford to go to school another year. So what's a girl to do?

Prostitution. 

Whaaaat? No, I'm just kidding--did you see your face?! Ha, in all seriousness, I still really don't know. I would just love to be able to write for a living: I could work from home, which would be good for my body; I could save money on gas; I could do what I love and get paid for it; and best of all, I wouldn't have to work in customer service. 

Yeah, I just talked at length about how I can't write papers for school and then immediately turned around to say that I'd love to do it for a living. And yes, I am aware of how stupid that sounds. Let's get things straight, if my boss came up to me today and said, "Hey, I'm going to need you to write a report on psychotropic drugs by Thursday," I'd be all over that shit. Because I'd be getting paid to do it, and (while I don't know why a craft store would need a report like that and I should probably look into reporting him for academic dishonesty) it would be relevant to my job. At least, relevant to keeping my job...

Anyway.

I am just not able to work for the long game, is what all this comes down to. I need to experience the immediate consequence for my work, otherwise it is really difficult to care. And I suppose that's not a totally terrible thing: if I get that one condition, I work my ass off. I will gladly sit there for four hours cleaning every speck of dust out of my work area if we are getting inspected. I will get really into re-organizing my office if it is to meet a specific, real-world goal. I will write page after page after page of stuff, if I am actually getting something out of it. And hell, that's how this blog started out--I really felt like I was getting something out of writing about Positive Psychology for a class I was in. I only changed it over to what it is today because I am no longer in that class and I was starting to feel like I was repeating myself.

So in short, god only knows what the hell I'm going to do once my GI Bill runs out (or I end up making enough money to quit early).

Little Slips

Last post I wrote about the anxiety that's always there, just waiting for myself to slip back into months-long depression and hopelessness. Well, I'm still waiting for "the big one" but little ones have been cropping up here and there.

I don't even know where the last one came from, just that it happened and it was annoying (after I got over bawling my eyes out). But really, it was survivable. I wonder if that's what my life has in store for me from now on: little bouts of mini-breakdowns every once in a while for no reason whatsoever. I hope not, but if so, then I guess it is what it is...

I just have to try to remind myself that it is happening now, yes. And it sucks ass, yes. But just because I am spontaneously depressed today doesn't mean it is going to be months of a downward spiral until I want to shoot myself in the face. It could just be for tonight, and even if it isn't, I'll deal with it like I have for 20ish years prior. Just to wait it out until tomorrow and try not to get too existential about my suffering until then.

And breathe. As much as I hate admitting it (it sounds like a tree-hugging, new-age, hippie thing), breathing exercises really, really help. Just concentrate on the fact that you are breathing in, then out and all the sounds and physical sensations in between...when you start to think about anything else (good, bad, or not), just go, "nope," and breathe in again. Breathe out again. It won't fix anything necessarily, and it takes a lot of strength and practice to bring yourself back to it, but it certainly doesn't hurt.

Anyway, that's been my week.

Fuck it.

This may sound like I'm giving up, but it is actually a kind of war cry; a beginning to another attempt to actually write things on this blog. This article itself won't be very exciting probably, as I have to start getting ready for work soon. Yes, work!

I finally buckled down and got a job that is still kind of physically demanding (for me, anyway), but is still pretty accommodating. I work at a craft store as a cashier and sometimes a sales floor rep (basically just keeping things tidy while showing old ladys where the yarn is). I've wanted to work there for years, but I was either outright rejected (due to absolutely STUPID interview answers on my part--I still cringe), or I was too afraid to apply (years later). Either way, I finally applied and it took a couple months for a different location to actually get a hold of me (I hate online applications now). It was a simple, "if you can form a coherent sentence, you're hired" kind of interview, but I was still fabulously prepared for it.

I have made a lot of mental progress since the last time I wrote something here, and I have made a lot of progress on my novel, too. Once I get home tonight or between classes tomorrow I will write a lot more on that, as I am pretty excited about how well I've been doing. There is, of course, a lot of anxiety there as well, because my depression still sits in the back of my head and reminds me that it could rear its ugly head at any point if I drop my guard. It really is something I have to keep watch on, too, as I found out during my recent fall break.

At this point I'm mainly just rambling an update to (again) let you know I'm still alive, so I won't subject you to too much more until later. I just randomly saw the bookmark for blogger and thought I should just sneak a peek and see if it was something I wanted to do again, and it was! So yeah. Thanks for putting up with me thus far, and I'll write more soon.

Long time, no write.

Yeah, I know I haven't actually contributed anything to the blogosphere in a while. It happens. Especially when you are seriously down and out and then sick, and then starting school, and all that. Ah well.

But I am alive! At least...last time I checked, anyway.

I don't know exactly what's going to happen here, to be honest. I might shut this down, I might get right back up on the horse. Most likely, however, it will be a sporadic chronicling of the times when I am not depressed and/or sick and/or busy as hell (that last one almost never happens for real, so no worries there). Any way it happens in the future, I am writing now. And RIGHT NOW is the most important time, right?

That's such an interesting concept. Right this second is the rest of your life. <--and that, my friends, sounds cliche as fuck. But it's true, isn't it? I could, right this second: go rob a bank, take a nap, start trying to find money to start a homeless shelter, shoot myself in the face (actually, I don't think that would be a "right this second" kind of thing, as I have no ready access to a gun), work on my novel, or just finish this blog post and then start re-watching Archer from the beginning like I was planning on doing. Every instant has a wealth of possibilities that, when you're depressed, are almost impossible to see.

Depression is stupid.

Anyway, the more I think, "screw the audience, I'm just gonna write!" the more I want to continue this blog. Fuck it, why not? The worst that could happen is no one ever reads it and I just keep typing to myself. Maybe I'll get better at writing. Maybe I'll figure out some crazy awesome universal truth that no one has ever thought of before and then have some crazy epiphany and then solve world hunger or something. Most likely the first one, if I were a betting woman. The point is, I'm still alive and I get to decide what that means. Right now. And now. Aaaaaaaaaaaaand now.























And now.

Panicking--what do?!

The other day, I had a panic-filled hour or two. It wasn't a traditional panic attack--with the sweating and the heart palpitations and the feeling like I'm going crazy or going to die--this was a much more mild panic. That lasted forever. Ugh.

So how did I pull through this? Well, I'm not quite an expert at this whole thing yet, but I do have some tricks.

1. Realize that this is just a feeling. I'm not dying, I'm not in danger, I'm just overreacting to something (probably having been cooped up in the house for a couple weeks too long and not having much to show for it).
2. Fat lot of good that did. What's next?
3. Take long, slow, deep breaths.
4. Oh crap, that didn't work. Now what?
5. What do the experts say? Some say exercise...ugh, that sounds awful. Others say to distract yourself...okay...god this is uncomfortable...let's try to...I don't know...edit more of my book! That sounds like a good idea. 
6. Oh god, this still isn't working. I can't even concentrate, I'm so panicked. And finally, the (somewhat terrible) solution to many problems (that surprisingly works):
7. Take a nap.

Yeah, I took a nap. It took some time for my adrenaline to stop pumping, but there just is something about laying down in a really comfy bed with a fan blasting cool air in my face while petting my fluffy Pomeranian that calms me down from a 6 to a nap. 

I don't know why it works, and it really is only a temporary solution until I can finally master myself, but when I'm in a pinch, I take a nap. It's much better than, say, running around screaming until I throw myself into a full-fledged panic attack. I just wish I still had a prescription to Klonopin. Oh well.

Anyway, I hope you guys have a better week than I've been having.

~ML

Check-In and Behavioral Activation

I'm a little late in posting this, but here it is! *dun-dundun-duuuuun*

Yeah, so my daily goals were not really reached this past week. I did, however, get the rest of the transcription done for my book (basically just typing up what had been hand-written by me a million years ago), so I was able to print that section and start editing. This is something that you already knew if you follow me on Twitter. You don't--not yet--but that's okay!

I have the same goals as before, including trying to find a place to volunteer, and another place to get a job. Other than that, I also want to squeeze in a little more drawing in my "art therapy journal" thing (technical terms, you see), just for the hell of it. It beats watching TV. Although that seems to be the only way my husband and I spend time on the weekdays because he's so exhausted after work, so it might just have to be drawing while watching TV, but I can handle that.

Mood-wise I've been pretty even-keel. A little guilt has sprouted up here and there, and I was depressed as shit for a little bit at the VA (who doesn't get that way there, though?), but nothing too out of the ordinary.

Also, just a comment on the Behavioral Activation thing I've been doing recently; it's been neat. While I haven't completely overhauled my schedule, it has made some genuine improvements since I've been writing down what I've actually done while keeping in mind what I need/want to do. I have been trying to schedule my days by the hour for months now, but never really got to the point of following said schedule. With the daily activity log, I am able to reevaluate how I spent my time, and how I could rearrange everything to fit the important stuff into my day. This is a lot smoother than just trying to shoehorn and guilt certain activities in; it's almost more natural feeling. "Okay, I wanted to take long walks with the dog everyday, but yesterday I decided to play video games because it was too damn hot and by the time I thought about it again, it was too late. So let's adjust the time I go out and maybe set an alarm," and then, gradually, it changes.
And it's so easy that I'm mad at myself for not having thought of it! Here's a quick, simplified guide for you.

1. Think about what you value, what your goals are. 
2. Think about little steps you could make every day to advance (move toward) those goals.
3. Write 1 & 2 down, then plan out your week. Add in school/work/other obligations and then fill in just a few of those steps. Don't overwhelm yourself, obviously. Just one little thing will do. Have every day planned (not necessarily every hour, and remember to remain flexible as life constants shifts).
4. Write down next to what you planned, what you actually did, how much you enjoyed it (1-10) and then how much you feel you achieved doing each of those things (1-10). This way, you can assess how those activities fit in with either your goals or even just relaxing/self-care. Because you don't have to always be doing something crazy-goal-oriented. 
5. When (not if) you fuck up, forgive yourself. No one's perfect, you included. You are going to have a day where everything is planned, and you spend it (especially if you are depressed) lying in bed eating Cheetos. It happens. Shrug it off, and evaluate why you did it. If you were just too overwhelmed, cut back in your schedule. If you just wanted a day to eat Cheetos, fuck it. You did it. Now start back up tomorrow and don't worry too much about "making up" for today. 

What might also help is starting off by just recording what you do to get a realistic view of it all. One week, write down what you do hour by hour. At the end of the week, just take a look and use that as a jumping off point for the rest of your schedule. This way, you can be a little more subtle with adding activities and it feels even less forced.

All of this was done in collaboration with my current therapist, Dr. S. She's pretty fucking legit and very realistic, so I'm hoping I get to work with her long-term. *crosses fingers*

So anyway, enough about me; how has your week been?

PIOP

Psychiatric Intensive Out-patient Program, or PIOP, was something I got put into by one of the good doctors I saw while in the military. It was basically a two-week long, seven to eight hour therapy group. The "curriculum" used several different techniques such as art therapy, psychodrama, CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy), and just regular talk/group therapy. I think there were six of us.

PIOP was the first time I ever did any kind of group therapy, and I was nervous as all hell. I don't particularly like speaking even one-on-one with someone I know, but this was in front of a group of strangers. Needless to say, Clonazepam was my best friend those two weeks.

The schedule differed a little everyday, and certain things like art and drama were only used a few times, but everyday we started with saying how last night went and then with a kind of warm-up. The warm-up was fairly simple--a family-friendly mash-up of musical chairs and "Never Have I Ever," or a race-type game involving CBT trivia--just to make us a little more apt to talk later.

This was a few years ago, so I can't remember all of it. I do, however, remember getting caught up in other people's therapy. This was after I decided I needed to be a therapist, so I was fascinated by the process.
Basically, one person would be convinced to talk about why they were there and about their past, and the rest of us were encouraged to comment, ask questions, and challenge that person's inconsistencies and distortions. I, being the weird, awkward fuck I am, really enjoyed this part. Listening to their stories and then giving them feedback.

Then it was my turn.

One of them expressed some solidarity when it came to my past abuse, but when it came to my biggest problem, no one--not even the facilitators--know what to say. I was struggling with the concept of self-worth. Not self-esteem, but worth. You can't have self-esteem unless you also agree that you are not simply taking up space and resources with your existence. It was a kind of existential crises that I was dealing with everyday, that no one there had even considered. They took their right to exist for granted. I'm sure it is probably an evolutionary thing. I did eventually figure this out, but that's another post. Basically they told me I "think too much."

Art therapy was fun, but not really helpful at the time. Psychodrama was lame except for a quick moment where I actually believed myself when I said that "I'm not worthless," and CBT and learning the drama triangle were enlightening, but I wouldn't use that until later.

All in all, it was a great experience. Most hospitals don't call it PIOP, but I'm willing to bet a lot have something similar; so if you need it, I'd totally recommend it.

Friday is another check-in, and Monday I'll write more on the whole "self-worth" thing.

Be well!
~ML

The Stupid Journey

So I have already talked about my general life story leading up to this point. It was long, depressing, and possibly boring for you all to read it. Now, let me tell you a little better of a story: my string of therapists.

My first one ever was when I was about 16. He seemed friendly enough. This is how our first (and only) session went:

"Hi, ML, I'm Dr. ____"
"Hi."
[insert forty minutes of silence]
"Okay, that's all we have time for!"
"...Al-alright..."
The end.

Yes, this guy decided to go all psychoanalytical on a sixteen year old girl without ever explaining the process. I was already really shy and nervous, why the hell would I ever talk to this guy without any kind of lead? Ah, well, maybe the next one will be better. (Spoiler alert: not really)

The second guy, I saw twice. The first time, mom and I sat in his office and we talked in a really vague manner about what was going on, and then he proceeded to diagnose me with ADD. Then he decided I should get an IQ test (which apparently is a good measure for ADD? I have no idea), just to be sure. I took the test a couple days later, and then the second appointment, he wanted to dive right into my issues for real (after "confirming" ADD)....with my mom still in the freakin' room.
So, no. But I did get to find out my IQ, which was pretty cool.

The next one was a lady. She was older, friendly, and actually seemed to know what she was talking about (in retrospect), but she talked to me like a kindergartner. Literally.
"OMG, hi, you must be ML! Well I'm ____ and we're going to have such a fun time!" What can I expect, really, mom chose her because she was a child therapist. I saw her one more time before I just couldn't take it anymore.

After her, I gave up on therapy for quite awhile. I just went to a psychiatrist for years. I hated it; I would get asked how I'm doing, and quickly get shot down because I'm talking too much. She was somewhat nice about it, but it was still jarring. Eventually, I ran out of insurance and then I moved when my husband got stationed in VA.

I didn't see anyone else until I after I joined the military. First, they put me on some horrible medication; it caused "brain-shivers" so badly that I almost crashed my car multiple times. Then they absolutely denied that a) it would cause side-effects and b) it would cause any kind of withdrawal symptoms (they called it "discontinuation effects" instead). Anyway, I got put back on Zoloft which is what I'm still on now. After pushing for it, they finally let me see a therapist.

This guy was very nice, sensible, knowledgeable, and not even too bad to look at--the only problem I had with him is that he was a newbie, so his idea of the human psyche was fairly inflexible. I am told that my insight is fairly high ("impressive" I've been recently told), and he didn't seem capable of understanding that. He just needs practice. I stopped seeing that guy because he got deployed.

They decided to shove me onto the civilians then. The first one I already mentioned here. She really needed her own bit of therapy and a refresher course in anxiety.
The second one was the miracle lady who made me realize that I should become a therapist myself. I say "miracle lady," because it was through her absolutely terrible therapy that I got over a pretty big hump in my life.

The next pair of people, a psychologist and a psychiatrist, were awesome. They cared, they knew what they were doing, they were easy to talk to (as much as military officers for a little E-2 can be), and they gave me a little more faith in finding someone in the profession to help me once I got separated from the military. It was also them who sent me to a military program called PIOP: psychiatric intensive out-patient program. I'll talk more about that later, but it was a really neat experience (not therapeutic, but neat!).

After them I had a pretty good string of civilian therapists in STL, only to have two of them leave because of job promotion or relocation. Those are, I think, the worst. You develop a rapport, spill your guts, cry a little, then you have to try to start all over again with someone else who you are terrified will suck or move, too.
Now I have a great (probably even the best, for me) therapist who really seems to understand both my issues and my dark, sarcastic humor. She is great and--surprise!--works at the VA. Who'd've thought anything good could come out of that hellhole?

To anyone who still hasn't yet found that "special someone" for your therapeutic process, just know that they are out there--you just have to keep looking for them. It may take a really, really long time (I don't sugarcoat this shit), but once you find them, it is SO worth it. My experience is that those who are actually psychologists tend to do better than social workers or counselors, but this is only me--I could just be a special case.

Anyway, I hope my story has been enlightening, hope-inspiring, or at the very least entertaining. I'd also LOVE to hear your stories--both good and cringe-worthy--so leave'em in the comments!

Keep lookin'!
~ML