journal

Reading my journals

Peggy Rice2 Comments

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.

Memories

Peggy Rice8 Comments

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.

Wellness Plan – Wrapping It Up

Peggy Rice2 Comments

I’ve now written several blogs about my Wellness Recovery Action Plan, or WRAP. And it’s time to finish off this series.

The next two sections of the WRAP plan are entitled “When Things are Breaking Down or Getting Much Worse,” and “Crisis Plan.” I’m lumping these together because both point to severe symptoms, and the potential imminence for a relapse of my depression.

According to Wellness Recovery Action Plan (Advocates for Human Potential, Inc., copyright 2018), “sometimes, even when you’ve been making your best efforts to stay well, things can get a lot worse. Some people call this a breakdown, a setback, or a relapse….often your behavior changes so much that other people can tell something is wrong…Taking immediate action can make a difference in the outcome.” In fact, I might be able to avoid the Crisis part of my plan if I can successfully turn this situation around.

Some of my key indicators that things are getting much worse include that I am staying in bed, isolating. I feel anxiety and a heaviness in my chest, an urge to drive fast and recklessly, a desire to smoke e-cigarettes (I’m a non-smoker). I may have increased trouble concentrating, which was also a red flag in my Early Warning Signs.  But in this case, it would be worse. I’d be feeling like a burden to everyone around me. I may have the desire to self-injure or have suicidal thoughts (called suicide ideation – thoughts, but not a plan), and I’d find myself unable to pray. I’d dread the future and ruminate on the past. I’d have flat affect – expressing very little emotion.

So what do I do if things get much worse? First thing – tell someone! My husband, sister, or close friend. Call my therapist and psych doc right away. Reduce caffeine – drink herbal tea instead of coffee – and sit in my glider, which I find very calming. I would try to Face Time my old therapist – he can often “talk me down.” I think I’d call in my second round of support – three other close friends who I know love me and would offer me encouragement and prayer. Perhaps, if these steps work, a relapse would not occur.

The Crisis Plan portion of the WRAP is designed to make it as easy as possible for people to help me, because if I am in a depression crisis, I might not be able to make my own decisions. It outlines who I want to help me – by name – and exactly what I want them to do for me. Things like get me to the hospital emergency room, sit with me, hold my hand. And what I don’t want done, like what medicines I can’t take. It even outlines my daytime and household responsibilities and who will do them, like care for the pets and pay my bills and contact and keep my prayer team updated.

After the crisis has passed, the Post-Crisis Plan is implemented. It’s a brief section of the WRAP where I identify things that worked in my WRAP Plan, and things that need to change. Perhaps there are people I need to thank for their help in my crisis; perhaps there are apologies or amends I need to make as a result of things I said or did during my crisis.  This final portion of the WRAP allows me to step back into the responsibilities of my daily life, slowly, as I begin to return to my normal level of wellness. This may take time – crisis recovery is not immediate, and I will need to be patient with myself. But this is a good time to evaluate and make changes to my WRAP, as I can see what worked and what didn’t. Because post-crisis can be very introspective, it’s a good time to modify my WRAP to include stressors or early warning signs that I may have missed before. I can add to the Crisis portion of my plan while it’s still fresh in my memory – what additions do I need to make so that, heaven forbid, things go more smoothly the next time?

Ultimately, the goal of the WRAP is to help me avoid a depression crisis – to identify those markers ahead of time to avert another hospitalization or emotional break down. Because this plan is so thorough, I may be able to stay in remission for the rest of my life.

New Carpet, and Books

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We’re getting new carpeting today. In the master bedroom and sitting room.

The previous owner must have kept her dog in the master, because there’s pet “damage.” You can smell a whiff of it when it’s humid outside, but most of the time it’s not a problem. Still, no amount of cleaning has gotten rid of it, so even though we really like the carpeting in there, it’s gotta go.

The other room – the sitting room – we call it the Beach Room because we’ve decorated it with our shells and pictures from our time in Florida – used to be our second guest bedroom. But when we got a new couch for the living room last year, we sold the bedroom furniture and put the old couch in the room. We sit in there and listen to music and read. It’s cozy, comfortable. But the carpet is cheetah.

Yep. Cheetah carpeting. Which doesn’t go with any of our beach decor! So it’s gotta go.

Cheetah 🐆 carpet!

This same cheetah carpet is in our massive master bedroom closet, along with a chandelier. In there, it’s so tacky that it’s adorable, and we love it!

So it stays in the closet but is replaced in the sitting room.

Yesterday, I removed all my books from the bookshelves so the carpet layers can move the furniture. It was a good way to pull out books to donate, and organize the ones I want to keep.

I’ve got a little library of sorts – books on depression, grief, and prayer seem to be the main topics. I want to build this collection – particularly the depression-themed books, as topics for my writings.

I also moved all my journals – I have almost 20 completed notebooks! I began faithfully writing – almost daily, sometimes several times per day – when depression started in 2008. I’m trying to figure out how to organize the content of them, so I can use them as resources in my writing.

Once the carpet is laid and the furniture moved back, I’ve decided to arrange the bookshelves a little differently. I have many books that I own and want to read. I need to quit downloading to my Kindle and read what I already own! I plan to put all those “to-be-read” books on one shelf and work my way through them. Or sort and donate, which might be a better way to go.

The carpet layers just called – they’ll be here soon!

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Bye-bye cheetah! Finished product:

Not much to say

Peggy Rice4 Comments

“They” say that women use 30,000 words in a day, while men use only 10,000. This sets up quite a difference of communication patterns between the sexes!

I used to talk a lot. It was an ongoing joke that the moment my husband shut off the lamp for sleep, I’d want to talk, tell him about my day, ask deep philosophical questions. Sometimes, he’d even turn the light back on in hopes I’d wind down!

But since my experiences with depression, I am much more quiet. I’m content to listen to conversations going on around me, and don’t feel the need to chime in at every opportunity. I’m happy to observe – I don’t need to contribute every thought I have.

It’s been a noticeable change. Several friends – especially those I don’t see regularly – will ask me if I’m ok. They’ve commented that I seem so quiet. Even my husband will ask me if everything is alright if I don’t say anything for a while.

I think the change is due to several factors:

Firstly, I think I’m a better listener than I used to be. I’m content to hear about others’ successes and troubles. I’m much quicker to pick up on subtext – those behind-the-scene  feelings. My therapist once told me that I’d find myself able to spot depression in others, since I’ve been through it myself. I think this is true – I sense a person’s unspoken sadness or struggle. So I find myself listening instead of talking.

Secondly, I simply have less to say. There’s just not much going on in my day-to-day to share. My hours are pretty quiet, and often silent. If I have lots of thoughts, I try to write them in my journal, so I don’t seem to have the need to verbally share like I used to.

Lastly, I’m more content with silence. That’s a benefit I gained from depression – being still. I pray, I journal, I don’t need noise to fill every moment. In fact, I usually look forward to my down-time, the peace that comes with silence.

On the Myers-Briggs test, I used to be an extreme Extrovert, which means I get my batteries charged from being around other people as opposed to being alone. But since depression, I’ve moved from the far extreme to closer to the Introvert, where my energy comes from my personal down-time. On the continuum, I’m still an E, but much closer to an I than before. I still need people, connection and community, to recharge my energy, but I’m more content being alone than I used to be.

This past week really tested that observation. My Tuesday small group was cancelled due to weather. I had to cancel my therapy appointment – where I talk most of the hour – due to illness. So my week was much quieter than normal. I still had my students/work, but that’s not socializing or even real conversation. By Friday, I was feeling the silence as loneliness, and I was crying because of it. I felt so alone – way past enjoying the silence. Instead, I was craving that connection and community I mentioned earlier. I journaled pages about feeling lonely. I cried out to God, and reminded myself that He was with me – I wasn’t completely alone. Still, it took me several hours to adjust to a week’s worth of quiet.

Then my husband got home from his business trip, and let me “talk his ear off.” And I felt so much better!