Navigating depression (guest post).

Ever since my experience with allergies and depression my perspective has shifted.  I *thought* I grasped depression.  I *hoped* I was supportive and helpful to friends when they suffered.  I learned I pretty much had no clue.  Please to welcome my friend, Denise.  Her beautiful, haunting words are the perfect reminder how there’s so much more to HEALTH than just the physical.

Sometimes I forget.

I can go weeks or even months without experiencing a hint of depression. During those periods I sometimes allow myself to believe that it’s gone for good and that I’m “normal” again, whatever that means.

And then something happens – some magical thing – and the craziness starts again.

Black is white and white is black.

Nothing makes sense to me even though I somehow sense, somewhere deep inside that is still in touch with reality, that it’s not external things that don’t make sense but rather my own thoughts that have slipped their moorings.

Now is one of those times.

It started when I encountered a friend who is struggling with depression issues of his own, although I didn’t feel the beginnings of my own response until later.

I listened to his delusional ramblings for hours, deflecting and debunking his misconceptions, outright challenging him when he was making statements about his life being worthless and over (he’s 21 years old), and crying with him as he talked about not having anywhere else to go or anything left to do.

I told him that I would get the number for the County Mental Health Services crisis hotline and that he wouldn’t be alone.

As I drove home that night, I could feel my mood changing and all of my energy to do anything leaving my body.

When my beautiful daughter and wonderful husband wanted to talk to me later that evening, I begged off citing the fact that I was “tired” – that’s my standard excuse, even to myself, for times when I can’t muster the energy to keep up appearances of normalcy.

Monday was Memorial Day and I participated in a remembrance ceremony with the husband and the daughter, standing dutifully at attention throughout and making small talk with acquaintances there and later at the post-ceremony reception that followed.

Once the official part of the day was over and we were in private again, the darkness and fog descended, and I only wanted to curl up in a ball and be left alone.

Thank goodness I have a husband who understands the craziness and whom I trust so completely that I can see myself through his eyes and recognize what’s happening.

That’s what happened on Monday night: Mick was being his usual helpful self, making dinner on the grill, and I suddenly just flipped out. I wanted to go out, we hadn’t explicitly talked about eating in, and I went from a zombie to straight up angry in about 2.5 seconds.

I could see the confusion on his face, heard him asking me what was up and not taking “nothing” for an answer, and – after about 20 minutes – I realized what had happened.  I apologized, I cried a little, then I went to him, buried my face in his chest, and told him I was sorry.

He didn’t have to ask why I was sorry because he already knew what was going on.

Ever since that moment on Monday night, the darkness has been slowly receding.  I wish it was something I could just decide to stop and then it would go away, but it’s not, at least not for me.  Once I can see it and name it, though, I know that it’s on its way out of my head, and that makes life easier even as I still deal with its lingering effects.

What I’ve learned in the last year that I didn’t know before is how important it is to check in with reality, to find something that I know with 100% certainty is real and then hold on to it until the craziness starts to subside.

For me on Sunday, that thing was my husband and I am so grateful – and lucky – to have him in my life.

If you, like me, suffer from depression, know that there’s help and you are never, ever as alone as you feel.

There are caring people in your area – trained professionals – who are just waiting for your call.

You can find their number in the front of your phone book (if you still have that object in your home) or by performing an Internet search for “mental health resources, county of xxx” where “xxx” should be replaced with the county where you live.

Don’t suffer even a minute longer by yourself – help is out there and you’re worth it!

Denise Elliott has been blogging since 2003. Her site, Do you have that in my size???, documents her struggles with Type II diabetes and depression as she takes small steps each day toward better health and greater happiness. In real life, Denise and her retired Navy husband share their loves of travel, community service, and spoiling their Pug, Alouysius.

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Seasonal allergies & depression: my misfit PSA.

To know me (I typically add “in real life” here, but this time Im fairly certain I held it together notsomuch online either) is to know I’ve struggled recently.

I havent been myself.

Instead of leaping out of bed excitedly to greet the day—Ive dragged my sorry ass up & to the coffee maker whining the entire way.

Lamenting how exhausted I am.  Moaning about how I dont want to work. Groaning about bus stop waits & soccer practices.

This is totally not like me.

I love my workjob.  I cant believe Im paid to blog and write.

I’ve never needed an alarm because Im *always* eager to meet each morning (Im a puppy that way).

Now layer on top of the aforementioned whining a complete lack of interest in anything.

A longing to loll in bed all day.

Not reading & snacking or movie watching & munching  (two ways I readily acknowledge Id *always* wanna spend a day.  those are my ideas of day-perfection.), but just supine and, well, sad.

And, because Im nothing if not an Emmy-worthy actress (not), The Tornado began apologizing and proffering notes like the one pictured above.

(The note reads I am sorry Mom.  I cant blame being depressed for my not correcting the “sre” for sorry.  I was inexplicably mamatouched by her misspelling.)

Of course I told her she didnt do anything wrong.

Yes I let her know I was just sad and tired and I didnt know why.

And I didnt.

Id never been depressed & it was only when I cried to Ren Man about how I just didnt have it in me to work or tweet or facebook or do the laundry or brush my hair—-did it occur to me precisely what I was describing to him.

I wasnt myself.  I was a depressed version of me.  A version Id never been.

I immediately did what all good bloggers do when it’s nighttime & they thinks they’ve solved a problem: I hit Google to be sure.

I read lots of articles about allergies & depression and those (coupled with my chronically itchy, oozy eyes & throat so sore I felt as though I had strep) provided the OOOOH moment I needed.

I took action from there and learned my malaise was, indeed, linked to Austin’s chart-bursting pollen count.

Intellectually I knew I lived in the self- proclaimed ‘Allergy Capital of the USA’ yet since I had no idea about the link between seasonal allergies & depression it took far too long (and far too many depressed texts. sorry about that.) for me to put this all together.

Hence this almost-fitness but more mental health PSA.

Whether you live in the (Live Music &) Allergy Capital of the USA or not—-consider yourself warned and alerted.

Whether your signs of sadness & lethargy are seasonal allergy related or not—consider yourself more aware than I.

(We can discuss the fact I have my masters in counseling later if you’d like.  oops!).

Now you.

Have you ever experienced depression as a by product of seasonal allergies? Or does this, at first glance, all seem as off-the-wall to you as it did to me?
Have you experienced depression in general?  I know before I thought I was able to understand how it felt—–and I had no idea.

Id love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.

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My Recent Bout With Depression And How I Battled Back

Why is this happening to me? That was one of my thoughts last week as I found myself in an emotional state I forbid myself to never enter. Just like all people, I sometimes get a little bummed out or disappointed, but actually depressed? How could Josie, the motivator and inspirationalizer, get entangled in depression? Not me.

I considered a few factors like the demands of mothering, wife-ing, a full time job, and blogging. But, eh, I’ve been doing that multi-tasking bundle of stuff for years. I also considered the frustration I sometimes feel from wanting something so very badly (goal oriented stuff), but knowing it’s still a few years off and will require continued effort, diligence, planning and patience to get there. But nope. That wasn’t it either. I understand the concept of delayed gratification, hard work and the rewards that come from it.

So then what was it? What’s this depression all about?

It all started with a Gumby toy I pulled out of Greedy Baby’s toy box. That’s my toy, actually. I’ve had it since around 1979. My mother sent it to me from California (she left when I was around 4-years-old and came back when I was 12). That Gumby is the only childhood thing I possess from my mother. The reality of “it’s the only thing” first made me sad, but then I stayed in sadness a little too long and got depressed.

I’m 38-years-old. I should be over this by now. I love my mother and forgave her a long time ago, so why am I depressed?

Depression obviously has a way of blowing things out of proportion and taking you down a road you didn’t plan on going. And then stomping on you.

Those Gumby toy thoughts then turned into: no one ever told me they loved me when I was kid …and my Grandmom only did the basics, like food, clothing and roof over my head, but no actual love or teaching me about life (there’s a lot of other “in my past” crap that happened, too)… And then that turned into, I’ve been looking terrible lately, maybe even ugly. My husband probably thinks I look terrible, too.

Aha! You see how this happens!? A few factual thoughts about my past spiraled into some extremely frivolous thoughts about my present, and that’s when I started feeling worse… about EVERYTHING! Without any justified basis for it.

But I caught myself. The discomfort of depression was just that – uncomfortable. So I decided I was going to pull myself out of that uncomfortable state. I made the decision to not be depressed. It wasn’t magical. It took effort, but I dug myself out of it (hooray!) and battled back.

I prayed: I’ve been a Christian woman since July 2, 1998. Yessir, I remember the exact day I received Christ. So I prayed and let faith work its unseen power. Then I prayed some more. And more… and more… I labored in prayer and asked Him for help.

I re-focused on my present and future: There’s too much wonderful stuff in my life to allow it to be hampered and suffocating by sadness. That truth re-opened my eyes to the good stuff happening all around me and all the wonderful things I still have to look forward to.

I let go of the past (again): My past is part of me. I can’t change that. But living in the past and feeding emotions from events that are long gone, done and over with serve no purpose in building me up today. It doesn’t add anything to my life. So I let it go. Will the past come up again? Sure. But I’m I control of how I allow my past to affect me.

Depression is a bastard, but it can be beat. And while my depression was very temporary (only a few days, maybe 4), I learned enough from it to realize that it has to been put in check BEFORE it gets the upper hand.

I know Yum Yucky is all about fun and laughs, information and inspiration, which made me kind of reluctant to share this vulnerable side of me with you right now. But you know what? For me to keep hidden this very human side of me would be crazy. If you ever have or are currently dealing with depression, please open up in the comments. Let’s help each other.

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