Reading my journals

I just finished reading my first journal. The one I wrote when I started into depression. It began at the end of March 2008, and went to mid-October. From my first appointment with my therapist, to the diagnosis of adjustment disorder, through my first panic attack, my subsequent climb out of depressive symptoms in the summer, and the beginning of my descent into full-blown Major Depressive Disorder.

I’m reading to refresh my memory of what I felt at my worst. I’m reading to see God’s faithfulness to me in my angst. I’m reading to discover my symptoms and how I behaved in my depressed state.

I had forgotten that my sleep schedule was all messed up. During the beginning of my experience, I repeatedly woke at 4:30 or 5:00am each morning. That is not me; I sleep until 7:30am most mornings. But I didn’t see that sleep disruption at the time – I just went with it. Looking back on it now, I recognize it as a classic symptom of depression – a change in sleep patterns.

I remembered that I used to drive to a boat landing to be alone with my loud music and the thoughts that made it past the beat-beat-beat in my earbuds. I didn’t realize that the pattern had started all the way back in the beginning; my memory told me that I didn’t develop that habit until I was severely clinically depressed. But my journal tells another story – I found respite at the water’s edge early on in my journey.

I learned in re-reading my journal that several of my distinct memories of depression actually occurred during that first stint – when I was diagnosed with “adjustment disorder with anxiety and depressive symptoms.” Many of the encounters that I read about were early-on, not much later in my experience, as I had previously thought. Funny how vivid those first memories are.

I’m glad I’ve waited until now to read through the journal. And I intend to read all of them from the first seven years of my depression – that’s 12.5 books of writing. But waiting was a good idea – I’m emotionally stable enough – mentally healthy enough – to go back to those memories without getting sucked into the emotion of them. I can handle them.

Coronavirus Boredom

I’m bored. I’m sure I’m not the only one.

This pandemic has us stuck at home, when many of us are used to being out and about. Whether it was Bible Study or errands, I could usually find a way to be out of the house most days. In fact, I treasured the days when I didn’t have to go anywhere, and could stay in my pjs until noon!

But I’m tired of it. I want to leave my house. The daily walk to the mailbox (3 blocks away) isn’t what I mean. I want to be where people are.

I’m trying to keep busy here at home, but find myself playing games on my phone to pass the time. I should be reading, or working on my book. I was knitting until I ran out of yarn for my blanket project; it will help, I’m sure, when my order arrives.

I’m hoping that this seclusion doesn’t spark a depressive episode. So far, I’m okay. I’m not terribly anxious, but occasionally sad. But I’m concerned about all of this time on my hands. And where do my thoughts go? I don’t want to spiral into negative thinking – that’s the gateway to depression for me. I keep checking my WRAP to make sure I’m staying mentally well. So far, so good.

I’ve used Zoom and FaceTime on a few occasions. The connection was bad on the day I chatted with my kids, so we ended up with just audio. And the point was to see their faces, so that was disappointing. We’ll try it again – maybe tonight – to play a game. That worked several weeks ago, and was lots of fun. That would boost my spirits, I’m sure.

I cried yesterday when I realized that my son lives 20 minutes away, and I didn’t get to see him for my birthday, nor will I for Easter. I had – unbeknownst to me – gotten my hopes up that he and his girlfriend would come over this weekend. We could social distance around the kitchen table. But he didn’t think it was wise – I’m sure he’s right – and so I cried. And I cried again today.

And crying is okay. In fact, everything I’m feeling is okay. This is uncharted territory for almost all of us, and change brings strong emotions. So I’ll let myself cry when I need to. And I’ll keep trying FaceTime to see my family “in person.”

Grieving vs Depression

I’m posting this because of its timeliness for me. My Aunt Peggy, my mom’s younger sister, died two weeks ago, and I’m grieving. She’s in heaven celebrating with Jesus, so I’m not without hope (I Thess 4:13). But that doesn’t fill the hole she left behind. And it reminds me of how close we were to losing my mom last year. I’m at that age where parents die, and it’s hard.

It’s important that I monitor myself to be sure my grief doesn’t turn to depression. The timeliness of this blog post has to have been God’s perfect timing.

Click here to read: Staying Stable While Grieving by Pastor Brad Hoefs

Memories

The funny thing about memories is they can’t be trusted. Images burned into the brain may not be real. Details can be lost.

I was recently writing about a mental health day I took, early on in my depression. I wrote about how luxurious the cool sheets felt as I woke up. I remembered the sun streaming in the front windows. I recalled listening to praise music, writing lyrics down in my journal. I had a vivid memory of turning up the music and turning myself around, with my arms raised above my head in praise to God as tears warmed my cheeks. I made a lovely dinner for my husband and me. It was a gentle memory, full of joy and light.

But when I opened my journal to that day, my writings revealed that my memories were wrong, distorted.

I actually woke with anxiety. The morning was rainy, and matched my depressed mood. I watched a movie in an effort to make myself cry. I drove to the local state park and sat in the rain, listening to the melancholic sound of drops on the windshield and dozing to sad music. I’d forgotten all about the sad morning.

The worship part is true. I did push the coffee table out of the way and dance to praise music. I did write lyrics in my journal. And I did make dinner, but for the kids and me – my husband was out of town.

I think the memory is the way God wants it. He doesn’t want me to dwell on the negative, so He helped me remember the worship part of the day

On many occasions, God called the Israelites to remember. To build monuments to recall His faithfulness, provision, and grace. To worship Him fully, with heart and soul and mind. Maybe that’s what He was doing for me. Maybe that’s why what I remembered was the worship, the praise to God for His love and care.

I like the memory.

Celebrate with me!

I had a realization a couple of days ago: I’ve been an entire year without a depressive episode! That’s the first time in eleven years!

Yes, I had some bumps. And some down days. But that’s part of living; that’s not depression.

I attribute this milestone to several factors.

1. I take my medications faithfully. And if I feel myself dipping towards depression, I tell my psychiatrist so he can modify my meds.
2. I was actively involved in a support group: Fresh Hope. We met weekly – folks who struggle with mental health issues and loved ones – and we talked and encouraged one another. More importantly, we reminded each other of the hope we have in Jesus – hope that allows us to live well in spite of a mental health diagnosis.
3. I wrote a WRAP – a plan that outlines my triggers, my indicators, my “plan of attack” if depression should resurface.
4. I told my husband and friends if I was feeling low for more than a couple of days. Just saying it out loud helped.
5. I prayed for strength. And my family and friends prayed for me too.
6. I stayed in God’s Word each day. The Bible is full of the hope we have in Christ and how much God loves us.
7. I talked to a therapist regularly. I know myself well enough to recognize that I really benefit from talk therapy. In fact, I’m without a therapist right now, due to just having moved here a couple of months ago, and I can tell by my mood that I really need to talk to a counselor.
8. I got out my gratitude journal again, and resumed recording those things for which I’m thankful. Studies show that counting blessings is effective in fighting depression.

I’m celebrating this victory, and hope you’ll join me!