Addendum: Laughter...

I am an avid "O" reader; they consistently publish articles that address the human condition, plus helpful, usually well researched solutions. Bonus: the pages smell really good. While doing my Sunday morning coffee-and-read session, I came across this in the July '04 edition. I'm going to tack this on my fridge as an ad-hoc emergency reference.

Laughter: The Best Medicine For Suicidal Depression

I may be on to something here.

Normally, my Thanksgiving routine goes something like this: Sleep late, read a lot, and then right around the time I'm sitting down to a dinner my husband cooked, spiral down into an anxiety spiked depression.
This year was different. The plunge into depression happened, albeit a little later and minus the jittery anxiety, but this time, after I had gotten my pie and ice-cream and had told myself to go directly to bed after, I joined my husband on the couch with said pie where he was watching the Seinfeld special on NBC. Within five minutes, I was laughing to the point of tears running down my face. And after that, I felt better. I mean, better in the sense you get in the middle of a ton of craziness that says, 'hey...everything is going to be all right,' even though it isn't and the crazy is still there.

Thing is, I had just turned off the television on a hilarious VH1 episode of Top Fifty Most Awesomely Bad Songs Ever and that did nothing to boost my mood...which is why I turned it off. Not being able to laugh at something that is supposed to be funny just adds to depression which I definitely don't need.

So what was the difference? I'd seen the VH1 show before, which maybe had something to do with it. Also, the funny in the Seinfeld special came from a) watching two funny people...Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld...recount their initial misfortunes with getting the show up and on the air (which was in and of itself, funny) and b) watching snippets from Seinfeld episodes, which basically consisted of people caught in situations that are so frustrating that you, if you were in such a situation, would have to laugh to prevent yourself from flipping out and killing people in the near vicinity. Tangential Note: Sometimes the characters did flip out, minus the killing but definitely including some screaming, yelling and flailing of arms and legs. Then again, I'd also never seen the Seinfeld special before.

At any rate, I suggested to the husband that we purchase the new, just released Seinfeld DVD to keep on reserve until the evening 20mg chaser of Adderall started working, or until my doctor gave up and started me on a new round of mood-altering amphetamines (aka Ritalin). According to the numerous advertisements throughout the special, the DVD holds Seasons 1 through 3 plus a whole lot of extra features. That should be enough to tide me over.

Note: The bold face...with the exception of the "Tangential Note" indicates place marks where I would like to put links to relevant content as soon as I am off of work and thus the work network which probably blocks such info and definitely logs visits to sites containing such info. I work hard while I'm at work and I feel it's okay to take a break every now and then but I still don't want to have to explain why I was looking for information on NBCs website or in IMDB's database.

Till Human Voices Wake Us And We Drown

Normally I don't post when I am depressed. Tonight, I wanted to do an experiment and force myself to make one update while in the middle of the madness. Experiment over. I can't think enough to type something witty and all I want to do is sleep until the pain stops. I do have a running list though.

Things I Actually Thought About Doing To Get Rid Of The Pain

1. Slam my head against the wall. Repeatedly. Problem: neighbors would call the cops
2. Drink lots and lots of alcohol. Problem: Don't drink, so no alcohol on premises and I can't stomach the rubbing kind.
3. Slam fists against the wall repeatedly. Problem: see number 1.
4. Slice with knife and/or razor. Problem: too addictive. Done it once before, which makes it exponentially easier to do it again.
5. Scream loudly until neighbors call the cops, they take me away and give me something to stop the pain. Problem: Husband, job, marriage...all down the toilet.
6. Take lots and lots of pills to kill the pain. Problem: Crazy, stupid desire to live.
7. Grab something and shake and shake and shake. Problem: Nothing satisfying to grab, too slowed down to shake.

Off to bed, which may not kill the pain, but will mask it for a while. Usually I take the meds first thing, or close and they kick in right around the time I realize that I am awake and dying. Lying still and breathing sometimes helps also.

Quick Note: Helpful Tools

I'm going to visit my pusher, er, psychiatrist today a meeting that, for me at least, evokes a certain amount of anxiety due to the fact that I don't really know what to tell him. Usually around the time that I see him, I am feeling normal, i.e. the drugs are working the way they should. When I feel normal, the times that I was depressed...even if they happened just a few hours earlier...seem unreal, fictionary. When I tell him about them, I feel as though I am making them up, or if I am exaggerating their magnitude. The same goes for the visits during which I am depressed...I can't remember ever feeling normal or happy, and I can't imagine ever feeling so.

I thought it might help if I had some sort of dry, clinical scale for emotions...some logical way to present my range of feelings. I did a Google search and this site was one of the first hits. It's a bit sparse, but it has a point scale as well as brief descriptions so it will work for now...seeing as my appointment is in about an hour.

If you need such a chart, use in good health. Oh and post a message if the link is broken...or if you're feeling adventurous, Google for your own and post back.

RealSimple is Really Peaceful

I have a subscription to this magazine that I was cajoled into getting when I purchased a coat from JC Penny over the phone about two years ago.

I don't know why this magazine lifts my mind when I am depressed, but it does. Some combination of the type, page smell, neat pictures...I don't know. But it works...so I'm passing it along.

Today was a white noise day...meaning that both enthusiasm and depression were absent. I functioned appropriately today...but that was about it. Hey, between this and living death, I'll take the white noise.

*Ping*

There are times when I am trapped and cornered in my head and logically I know that there is a way out and the lightness is out there somewhere, but in my gut, in my soul of souls, I cannot see it.....there are times that, while in that moment, an event happens at just the darkest hell, that is as if someone came to meet me with a candle, and help.

This is one of those times. I woke up in the middle of the darkness, stumbled around trying to pull myself together, and do the things that needed to get done to get ready for another day. I am sick with a serious chest cold on top of everything....everything...and I sat to drink yet another cup of daytime TheraFlu of the fifty millions I drank this week, and out of the corner of my ear I heard this on the radio. Speaking of Faith | The Soul in Depression

I am listening to it now, and it is like drinking gulps of light-infused water. Every two minutes or so, someone says something that is another flashbulb going off...another burst that is "Yes. That is exactly what I was trying to say when explaining how I feel."
If you are reading this and in the middle of the living death (as this program so accurately pinpoints it) follow that link and just listen to the program.

Note On The Title: I read an article in O magazine one time while trying to distract my lowered brain. It was about two people....one sick with a brain tumor and another, a teacher I think, who at the beginning did not even know each other and by through a series of intuitive events that the author notes as 'pings' become favorably involved in each other's lives. This radio show is like those 'pings'.

Oddly enough a "ping" is a communication packet sent by the TCP/IP protocol stack to the designated address. It is used by network administrators, usually, to find out if a server is up and running and functional.

More Proof That Dogs Should Run The World

Along with the other non-pharmaceutic remedies that I am using, I have a dog. The best, in my biased opinion, dog there was at the pound...although I did want to take all of them home, or to someplace where I could be assured that they would be treated lovingly and given lots of space to run, toys to gnaw at and treats. The pound is not a good place to go if you suffer from depression...even if you do adopt you will, guaranteed, feel awful for all of the ones you couldn't.

Anyway...I'm a very firm believer in the therapeutic benefits of dogs...especially when it comes to depression. I have never been in a depressive episode deep enough that Roscoe couldn't at least bring some sort of smile to my face. In fact, it is my opinion that there aren't many problems that a dog, or a dog-like mindset couldn't solve. I almost wrote in my dog on my ballot in the recent presedential election; I figured that he was more well-behaved than any of the candidates were.

This story, from Slate (one of the better online magazines in my opinion) proves my point so well that I came up with a catchy ad slogan...to be used for, well, I have no idea...maybe to encourage more pound adoptions. Anyway, here it is:

Dogs: Is there anything they can't solve?

Enough said.

Research Mode

The Brain Place has an interesting article on the limbic system, and the way it works. Especially fascinating is this observation:

"When the deep limbic system is less active there is generally a positive, more hopeful state of mind. When it is heated up, or overactive, negativity can take over. This finding actually surprised us at first. We thought that excessive activity in the part of the brain that controlled emotion might correlate with enhanced feelings, not necessarily negative feelings. Yet, we noticed, again and again, when this area was overactive on SPECT it correlated with depression and negativity."

Which makes me wonder if increased limbic activity burns through the depression linked neurotransmitters faster, which results in depression. Of course, there's that whole cortisol link as well...

I Do Not Think That They Will Sing To Me

I have a dog, a wonderful dog, and I live next to some wonderful dogs. I can tell exactly where I am on the depression scale when I see them.

If the meds are humming right along, leaving Roscoe (that would be mine) after walking him doesn't phase me at all...even after an assault with his best "pity me" face.

If I'm on the falling side of a dose, seeing Henry...aka "Tough Guy", the Jack Russell next door...wandering around his yard nails me right in the chest. Even though he is probably thrilled to be outside, and even more excited to get pets from me, his eyes and his little wagging tail seem, to my darkening brain, like symbols of infinite longing; I see an eternal painful loneliness in him that does not exist.

And Roscoe with his huge Boston Terrier eyes? Forget it. I've cried on the way back to work after walking him...even though I know he's back there, on our bed, completely engrossed in his hunt for the treats I've hidden in the blankets.

That's what pisses me off about those sanctimonious proponents of positive thinking. If it were just about thought replacement, yeah sure. But that's no help when the source is bad. I could spend most of my mental energy smashing the "bad thoughts" into "good" ones, but the suckers keep coming from some infinite well. Sometimes just a smell evokes a wash of pain. How on earth do you guard against that??

More sometime later...I'm off on my (seemingly) endless search for help

And In Short, I Was Afraid

The sign off name at the bottom of the posts comes from my most favorite poems of all time, The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock.

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the Eternal Footman hold my coat and snicker,
And, in short, I was afraid.

Something about that poem....certain lines just grab at a muscle or nerve right behind my gut and just pull. It's the same feeling that happens at a certain line of music, or a certain space of time when a bunch of disparate elements...the light through a window, music from a speaker, noticing the time in a clock on a wall...come together and make a palpable, tangible sort of something that reminds you that your time is short, you are getting older, and there are many, many things that you will never do or that you can never really communicate to someone else, even if you are close to them.

It sounds like a bunch of hokum, mostly because it's a something that can't be easily defined by words....those disparate elements that you can't reproduce in words on a paper or in a post are the best way of definining that feeling. I don't know if everyone feels those things at times, or if it's just a function of the depression...or the medicine I am taking in hopes to relieve it.

It's been a boomslang of a day today as if it weren't obvious. My emotions have been ricocheting all over the place and I don't know why. For a control freak like me that is the worst...doing all the things that I am supposed to be doing, taking the meds at the right times, eating the tryptophan rich foods and taking the multi vitamins, drinking the water and the herbal teas and going for long walks and watching funny things....and watching your state of mind plummet.

Two more slices of toast (carbs are good for serotin production) and I'm off to bed. Sleep works when nothing else will.

Note To Self: Do Not Skip Exercise

Yesterday I felt like the crap someone scrapes out of the bathtub drain before taking a shower. Pretty much all day, in spite of the Adderall and Effexor and numerous doses of Theraflu and Claratin.

Today, I feel definitively better. And I haven't even taken Theraflu...which I will definitely need if I am going to be able to haul a server into a rack. The difference? Exercise.

Yesterday was the day that I see my therapist, which means I have to leave at 3pm to race downtown, which means I have to be at work at 6am. In spite of how much I love to work out, vigorous exercise at 4am doesn't work for me. So Wednesdays I usually skip it.

Evidently this is going to have to change. And since my neighbors would have something to say about me exercising while it's still dark...it looks like I'm going to have to change my appointment.

Helpful Depression Tip Of The Day: This stuff is great. It smells like citrus and something else soothing, so it's not obnoxiously morning smelling. And waiting for it to dry forces you...me anyway...to slow down and calm down, which helps me stave off the depressive feelings. And no, I don't work for Neutrogena either.

And Now For Something Completely Different

I've got some serious beef with Snoop Dogg.

As a rule, I hate current rap videos. I'm sick of seeing some stupid looking guy with seriously ugly chains around his neck and troops of skimpy clad women shaking their butts and boobs at the camera. I definitely don't want to know that you have a billion Rolexes, and a billion Royces and a forests worth of fur. And whomever came up with the pimp cup needs to be taken out back and beat down.

Then Snoop Dogg comes out with his latest video.

Skimpy women? Check.

Stupid, tacky looking jewelry? Check.

Obnoxiously ostentatious displays of wealth? Check.

But it's all done with a black and white finish, sharp arresting images (especially check the image of a hooded Snoop with cigarette smoke wafting up), and a seriously minimalist feel. Which means I like it. In spite of myself, and my dislike of against objectification of women and throwaway wealth.

So I have a serious beef with Snoop Dogg. And some serious props for the man.

Quick Note: It's Probably Illegal To Feel This, Well, Normal

I'm late for work, but I had to note this...plus the email to publish functionality of my blog appears to be fubared and I need to test it by way of this post. There are some times when the stars align and the cosmos is in harmony...and I'm overusing the cliches here but I'm at a loss as to explain how this happens but I feel absolutely normal. I'm relatively optimistic about the day ahead, my brain is thinking of ways to solve work problems, I'm looking forward to some pleasurable events. In other words: the meds are working!!!

Usually I go back through the morning...because it's usually morning when this happens...and frantically archive everything I did that morning that may have contributed to my current mental state. Today's dump would look something like this:

• Ate three pieces of toast with brummel and brown spread
• Went back to sleep because I felt sick...hacking cough, stuffy nose.
• Took liquid non-drowsy Theraflu at 5:00 am, took generic Claratin (orally dissolving kind) around 6 am and first Adderall dose at 7 am.

I'm not sure if I can safely take that drug combo together on a regular basis, but perhaps there's something to this multiple drug combo; currently I take all my effexor in one fell swoop in mid-am, perhaps it would be better if I split the dose and took it with my multiple Adderall doseages.

Off to work. More, hopefully, later.

Changes...

Not that anyone is reading this, but in case you are...or were...you may notice that I've changed both the title and the address of this blog. I was thinking about it, the title, for a while the other day(s) and realized that depression resembles the current title and URL more than the former. Fighting a demon is easy...minus the potential of getting burned or skewered, or posessed...whereas fighting encroaching darkness is something else entirely.

How do you fight oncoming darkness? Turn on a light? That's good, and it allows you to see, but there's still bits of it lying around in corners and behind doors, in the closet. And once you turn the light off, it rushes in to fill the empty space.

The scariest part of a scary movie that I've ever seen is the last snip of Nightmare on Elm Street. It's sunny outside, nice and bright with a blue sky and pretty trees and such. There are a bunch of kids playing jump rope and singing and laughing. The main female character is walking out the door, a smile on her face. Everything is normal. Then, out of nowhere, Freddy strikes.
It's not the unexpected that gets me....it's the something horrifying and dark appearing in the middle of a beautifully normal day.

I won't insult anyone's intelligence by explaining the various analogies to depression this evokes. I'll just say that today, along with most of the days this past month, has been one of those beautifully normal days...

Tis Better To Give...

There is something to this 'it's better to give than receive'
saying....mainly that doing something completely unasked for others
somehow is a small respite from the gloom. I'm not sure where the
reassuring feeling comes from, but my current theory is that it is
comforting to know that soon, as a result of your actions, someone
else will feel less crappy than you do.

I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out what
actions, interactions, events, things, foods, music, TV shows, what
have you, will help alleviate the depression. Mostly because the
medicine that is supposed to be working a certain way, isn't.

I have what my psychiatrist calls "drug-resistant depression". Which
basically means that he looks increasingly perplexed when I tell him
my symptoms haven't changed, which I do now on a monthly basis. I was
downgraded from a once every three month visit to a once a month visit
when I reported that my functioning went from "being able to think and
act and feel energetic and enthused about the upcoming day" to "trying
to keep myself alive" in the course of a day.

I've taken a lot of different drugs and seen more than a few doctors,
but because of the nature of the illness and a couple of very bad
times in the last decade, I'm not sure exactly which drugs and which
doctors I've taken and seen. I definitely know I've had Prozac and
Wellbutrin and amitriptyline. I'm definitely sure that I've taken
Risperdal..it made me gain at least ten pounds and that's not
something you soon forget.
I'm almost positive I've had Zoloft, and I did take lithium for a
while after I had one mild mania episode. I'm currently trying out a
combination of Effexor and Adderall. The effexor dose was at 450mg
once a day, but at the last visit the doctor decided to lower that and
up the Adderall...adding a 10mg instant release pill to my 90mg
extended release dosage (30mg pills, three times before 1:00 pm). He
says I 'just need to figure out the timing' of the dosages on my own,
which is unnerving...not because I can't, but because of the sinking
feeling that I have that my depression is rapidly progressing to the
point where it is outside the bounds of his expertise. Which
basically sucks, since he has much expertise.

Right now I'm playing with the timing and adding any and everything
that could possibly help. There is a laundry list of items, but since
I'm at work and it is now 3:44 and I still haven't taken a lunch, I'm
going to save it for later.

What's The Big Idea?????

Whomever is responsible for this daylight savings or negative daylight savings, or whatever it is called needs to be forced to move to Alaska during the time in which they have no sun. Or locked inside an underground dwelling with no windows. Reversing time so that we get screwed out of hours of sunlight is the worst idea since the Edsel and probably worse than that.

Officially I don't have SAD, but I may as well since the onset of the reversal of daylight savings brings about a deep feeling of suffocation and doom. The weeks and months leading up to it evoke hints of dread, but the day it finally snaps into effect is the worst. My brain locks, full stop, at the idea of it being dark at four thirty in the afternoon. I drove the entire way home thinking 'I'm not going to make it, I'm not going to make it, I'm not going to make it' over and over again. Whatever depressive strains were floating around in my head increased exponentially.

So much for the holdover dose of Adderall (10mg, instant release). I may as well have taken a sugar pill. Will now attempt self medication by ingesting tryptophan by way of several Almond Hershey bars and watching my dog wrestle his stuffed snake to death.

Those Pesky Side Effects

Most antidepressants that I have had the pleasure of taking have the unfortunate side effect of memory interference. Either that, or I'm just way to busy for my own good. In either case I depend heavily on my Pocket PC and Pocket Informant to keep my brain in order. I've alarmed all the times I'm supposed to take my drugs, and the Alarm Note feature is helpful to post reminders of things you absolutely must do before, say, walking out the door.

Posting to this blog was not one of those things, however, I'd forget if I waited until I got to work. Plus I'd already alarmed my "must do before leaving house list" in the bathroom and didn't have time to add "post entry about reminder software"

*I in no way work for WebIS or any of its affiliates. There is plenty of good handheld reminder software out there....Pocket Informant just works the best for me. And the colors are pretty....a small matter of great importance when battling depression.