Elevens

Not feeling ANY positive emotion (i.e. joy, love, pride, happiness... you get the gist) prevents balance in life.  This means that every real or perceived slight or negative comment suddenly becomes amplified so much that it becomes traumatic.  Things that normally wouldn't phase me, now seem like the end of the world - literally.

Yesterday, I was chatting with my dear husband, and he mentioned that someone might be offended by something I did out of kindness.  Normally, this wouldn't have phased me at all, as it was something somewhat insignificant and out of my control.  I took it to be the end of the world.  I was devastated.  I didn't want to offend this person whom I respect.

I spent the rest of the evening in hysterical tears - thinking how my life was over.  Hence the title - elevens.  My nose was dripping snot so badly that it looked like I had elevens under my nose.  The tears didn't want to stop.  I was in so much emotional pain that my body literally hurt to my finger tips. 

Now, I'm not the type of person who cries dainty tears.  Nope.  Not me.  I cry so hard that my eyes are barely visible under my puffy eyelids.  Honestly, I look freakish for several days.

I just wanted to end my humiliation. My incompetence. My 'wrongness'. My inability to fit in the world. I was desperate.

Crazy, right?  If it wasn't for my child and husband, I would have ended it all over a minor embarrassment (if that... I don't even know if the person would have been offended).

I realised that perhaps my increasing fear of going outside or being in public view is possibly because of this significant increase in negative emotion.  My fear of being judged harshly - whether real or imagined - is reducing my ability to go out into the world.  And the reason that I feel all negative emotions more intensely is because I don't have the positive emotions to balance it all out. If I can't feel goodness, the badness is much worse.  Much, much worse.

How do I end this trap? This cycle of chronic mental pain and anguish?  I'm searching and trying.  And trying... And trying...

Unhappy

Why am I not happy?  I don't know.  I just wish the pain, anxiety, fear, and numbness will go away.

I was once happy.  Ridiculously happy.  What changed in my life to create this downward spiral? 

I'm trying to be optimistic.  Trying everything I can to overcome these feelings of despair.  However, my inability to connect with anyone or anything in a positive way weighs on me heavily. What if I'll never get better?  What if I'm never going to be happy again?  What if I can never lead a normal life again?

I'm doing everything I can... baby steps.  Trying to eat differently. Trying to get more sunshine (thankfully the weather is cooperating).  Trying to get more exercise.  Trying to become more centred.  But the baby steps don't seem to be working, and I feel even more isolated than before.

To make matters worse, my fear of interacting with people - my fear of being seen in public - is becoming more common and more pronounced.  I don't want to be afraid to leave my home.  But I am.

I no longer enjoy leaving my home, even on some subliminal level. If I need to do something, I run out, get it done as fast as I can, and PRAY that no one will speak to me/look at me. 

I am embarrassed about who I am and what I've become. I just want to be alone.  Do nothing.  Be nothing.

Hiding

I spent this morning running a few errands: getting my hair done and picking up groceries.  Now that I'm at my Mom's, I am terrified of being outside.  I couldn't get into her house fast enough.  I don't want to see anyone or be seen at all.  The doors are closed and locked, and the curtains are drawn.

I just want to hide. I want to be invisible. I might even be 'asleep' when it's time to pick up my son, so I don't have to go out of the house until it's time to go back home.

And, this is the warmest day of the year, so far.

Panic and fear define how I'm feeling right now.

I'm crawling under the covers, and I might not come out...

Psychic Visit

Okay, okay... I don't know if I'd recommend this to anyone in a similar and vulnerable position, but I saw a psychic yesterday.  And, I think she was pretty accurate and very helpful. Coincidence?  Great ability to read people?  Actual intuitive ability? It's up to you to decide.

Here are some of the things she told me:

• I have to start saying 'no' to people more; people have been taking advantage of my 'can-do' attitude and not taking responsibility for their own stuff.  And, I have to let go of the need to help people, as they need to learn their own lessons.
• My batteries have run out because I spend so much time doing things for other people and doing things that aren't required.  I need to recharge my batteries or I won't be good for anyone else.
• I need to be selfish more often.  Do things for me... not just everyone else.
• My husband is my soul mate.  And, we need to regenerate together more often, even if it means just sitting and holding hands for five minutes.
• I need to breathe deeply and meditate more often (oops... I think I was also given that message - LOUD AND CLEAR MULTIPLE TIMES - by my psychologist starting with our first visit... and I haven't had the strength to do it until now).
• I haven't lost my spirit, my inner power and strength; I just need to reconnect to it; it's always been there.  She suggested some stones to help me to reconnect to the person I was before.
• She suggested that I repeat intentions many times during the day, asking the universe/higher source for help.  She said even if I don't feel the connection, I can let the universe know that I'm ready and open to receiving help.
• I have to let go of the negative energy and replace it with positive energy.
• I need to reconnect with magic - the magic of every day life.
• I need to love myself.  I'll write that again.  I need to LOVE MYSELF. Letting go of previously programmed desires to put everyone ahead of me. Remembering that loving myself isn't an act of selfishness; it's an act of being true to myself, so I be my higher self and achieve what I am supposed to do in this lifetime.

The meeting reaffirmed messages I'd been told before, and things that I know, but have forgotten... or not had the strength to act apon.

As I've said before - not in this blog though - I don't care if I have to take placebos or whatever.  I just want to feel better.  Not return to who I was.  But, become my stronger self.  The best self I can be.  Find the strong person that has been clouded by negative self-talk and too much 'helping others'. And, be who I need to be to make the world a better place by fulfulling my destiny.

Crushed...

Right now, I'm feeling crushed. Betrayed. 

I asked my husband to NOT say anything about my condition to his family.  Unfortunately, his brother's former girlfriend experienced some mental health issues several years ago, and the stigma haunts conversations even now... many years after they had broken up.

I only want people who I can feel safe with... not judged by... to know about my situation.  It's been such a painful and difficult experience that I need to feel safe.

He explained that he let his brother know what I was going through in an effort to wrap his mind around my situation.  My husband said his brother would be discreet.  I'm upset. Not because I don't trust my brother-in-law, per se... but because it's a hard story for me to share. 

The fear of judgement.  The fear of stigma.  The fear that my husband doesn't love me any more now that I'm broken.  The fear that I'll be alone. Unloved. Unwelcome. Permanently labeled the 'crazy' or 'mentally ill' one.

I'm not ready for people to know - beyond the little circle of friends I've entrusted in my 'circle of truth.

I know my husband didn't say these things to hurt me.  He spoke to his brother because he needed to share.  To express himself.  Not because he wanted to make me feel worse.

I love him very much.  And, I don't want HIM to look at me differently.  By sharing with his brother, I feel like he doesn't see me the same any more.  And, perhaps, that his love for me is fading.  And, that would break my heart.  Destroy me.

Happy people make me sad

Okay, I'm going to be brutally honest.  Happy people piss me off.

It doesn't matter if its an advertisement or real people or celebrities or reading these oh-too-good-to-be-true family blogs... Happy people piss me off. Especially if they have what I want: at least one more child, a great job and an awesome life/work balance (and a REALLY good vacations somewhere warm or exotic).

Yes... I know I have a wonderful husband and an amazing child and a soon-to-be lovely home.  But I want to enjoy them and stop going through the motions!

I once felt genuinely happy for happy people (rather than the trance like emptiness I currently feel).  Hell, I was once a happy person.  So, I know the feeling.  I loved the feeling.  It was wonderful to walk on air and know that life was great.  Of course, I remember the concept... not the actual feeling.  That feeling is gone.

And, that makes me feel bitter.  Very bitter.  Why can't I be experiencing those things again?  Why have I been robbed of feeling all things good in life?

It's not fair.

I miss feeling happy.  I miss the camaraderie of working and having a great career. I miss not wanting to be so invisible.  Right now invisible is where I'm at.  I want to hide in this dark basement and do nothing. Just disappear.

Tears and Panic

Today, I feel like I'm on the verge of crying.  I literally have tears in my eyes as I go through my day-to-day activities.  Unfortunately, it's not unusual.  That and this undercurrent of panic and nervousness.

I wish this journey was just a bit easier.

Anhedonia... a Lonely, Dark Life

Without being able to connect in a positive way to anyone or anything, life has become lonely and dark.  Anhedonia has taken over my life. 

My life is about existing...not experiencing.  If you knew me before this, you'd know that I tried to experience as much as possible, soaking in life whenever I could.  Now life contains no pleasure; I'm just going through the motions.  And, that's when I force myself to do things, or if it is out of necessity.

Things I once looked forward to are now just things to do (and things I force myself out of bed to do).  I don't feel excitement or passion towards anything.

Anything that I accomplish... things that people compliment me on... doesn't feel like an accomplishment.  There's no pride in what I do.

I don't taste food the way I once did.  Nor do I feel an emotional connection to music.

Hugging and kissing my kid, listening to him 'read' books, tell stories or sing songs, watching him dance... these things once filled my heart with joy.  Now there is blankness.

My husband, my dear, sweet, loving man, has been so patient and kind.  But I don't feel the love and passion that I once did.  It breaks my heart.

I know I love both my son and my husband more than anything in the world.  But I don't feel it.  Nothing. Blankness.  A trance like state.

I've tried to visit museums, go to the mountains and do things that made me happy before.  I've tried to remember the positive emotions from past experiences.  Everything is coming up blank.  Very blank.

This trance like state of anhedonia has made me feel very isolated.  Unable to connect with people or things.  Why face the disappointment of trying something, when you don't feel anything good?  It's not as if I don't try.  Every time I try, the crushing disappointment of feeling nothing weighs heavily on my spirit, making me feel broken. Alone.  This lack of ability to connect is a living hell.  It's like living a life you're not in... living it from a distance.

I keep hoping for miracles.  For glimmers of happiness.  But, they aren't happening as much as I had hoped (since February, I've experienced this glimmer three times... each for a few seconds).

I'm tired of being zoned out and not connecting and not caring.  This anhedonia has created this brutal apathy about life... I don't care if my house is a mess, my fashion sense is questionable; I can't concentrate on much of anything.  My life is in shambles... Despite my beautiful child and soul mate by my side.

Some days I don't know how much longer I can hang on.  I'm tired of crying many times a day. I'm tired of being unable to move.  I'm tired of taking medication that isn't working.  I'm tired of feeling a panic much of the time... either just below the surface, or enough to make me feel nauseous and terrified (yes, I know panic won't hurt you, but it is a sickening feeling) bordering on hysterical.

I want some degree of normality back. And, I need to take some sort of action to make a difference. But, how do you try when you feel like all hope is gone?  When you try to move, do something - anything - and you're stuck?  And when you do something, you feel nothing good... just sadness over another failed attempt at something to re-energise your spirit.  I'd like to find answers, so I can help others lost in this sea of darkness.  And, I'd like to see the sunshine and experience it again myself.

Am I so broken that I'll never be fixed?

I ask myself this question, often in tears. 

Cymbalta is supposed to be one of the best medications out there to treat depression.  But, it didn't work for me.

My lab work came back 'normal'.  That means that unlike a broken bone, it's not just something that can be fixed with an easy solution.

My psychologist, as lovely as she is, can't do much more than offer suggestions and listen patiently to my tales of woe.  Unfortunately, if I'm not strong enough or ready to follow-through, the best therapists won't make a difference.

The naturopath is also quite nice.  But, I'm not convinced she'll be able to help out.

My doctor has been super-understanding and helpful.  But, he knows he's out of his range for me.

The one thing I don't want to do is damage my child because of the demons I fight everyday.  A friend of mine spent his life depressed and unwilling to better himself in life because his father had killed himself on his birthday.  Unfortunately, the then 10ish little boy was the one who found him hanging in the garage.  Then, there was the mother of four who, after years of struggling with depression, killed herself.  Her children said that they knew she was very sick and realised she was in a better place.  I don't want to be either of these parents.

But how do I fix this?  I AM trying.  Without positive internal positive reinforcement, I can't seem to move forward.  I can't seem to help myself.

I am doing the best I can for my son.  I take him to a day home for most weekdays, take him to parks and read to him all the time.  I'm often on the floor with him, playing with his toys or listening to his stories.  I'm going through the motions in an attempt to protect him from knowing the battle I face every day.  I don't want him to ever think this is his fault.  And, I always want him to know his Mommy loves him... Even though the feeling doesn't connect to my heart.  It does connect to my soul somewhere...

Attempts to Recover

I've been desperate to get better... if not for me, for my son.

When I first went on sick leave, I was shocked when the substitute doctor who wrote the note for my work didn't tell me what was next.  I then returned to the clinic, asked to see another doctor, who basically told me to get some exercise and eat better.  Well you try that when you're feeling so blue that getting out of bed poses to be a huge challenge.

I started to experience severe panic, so I called our local distress centre.  They suggested I speak to an emergency response unit.  Feeling so miserable, I agreed.  I met them at a local hospital, where I spent an entire hour in hysterical tears, using up an entire box of Kleenex, explaining my situation.  They recommended me to a psychiatrist and suggested I see a psychologist.

The psychologist was very kind and understanding.  She too suggested exercise, a better diet and breathing techniques. At first I thought she was a bit too new age-y,  but that was only the first day.  Since then, I've learned a lot from her wisdom and wholistic approach, and I see her once a week

Then, I finally saw my own doctor, who diagnosed me with major depressive disorder.  I was relieved to know that what I was experiencing wasn't completely foreign.   I was then put on Cymbalta.  We tried 30 mg, then 60 mg.  No difference.  When I saw the psychiatrist, he upped the medication to 90... None of it worked.

I was beside myself, and I've even tried massage and a naturopath.  My fingers are crossed that those will help too.

The psychiatrist then insisted I come into the hospital for various tests.  I can't explain how terrifying it was to be sitting in one of those rubber-rooms.  All I know is that I never want to be in one of those again.

Since then, I've been decreasing the Cymbalta... Still experiencing really bad panic episodes (not that those abated much while I was taking the large doses of medication).  Now I cry almost every day.  I still don't feel any happiness.  Only fear and all types of negative emotions magnified.  And, I worry about never getting better - despite assurances from the folks I've been seeing.

I try to keep things together for the sake of my family.  Easier said than done.  I'm finding it difficult to do the smallest of things, and all I want to do is sleep, hide and cry.

Family and Friends

I've been blessed with a lovely family.  My soul mate has been extremely loving and supportive through everything, and my son is a true gift and blessing.  Both have kept me going through the hard times I've been experiencing.  I am so grateful for both of them.  They are my world.  They are my life.

My brothers, sister and their partners have also been very supportive and helpful.  They've been trying to keep my spirits up without making me like some sort of a total freak.  (If you've ever been sick and been treated 'differently', you know exactly what I mean.)

My Dad has passed on, but I know he supports me in spirit.

My Mom... well, she tries to be helpful.  But without choosing to understand what I'm going through, she's been a bit of challenge.  She doesn't believe in doctors and calls my psychiatrist a witch doctor. Sigh.  Unfortunately, in her efforts to be helpful, she can sometimes be a bit passive-aggressive, and she makes me feel guilty for being sick.

My friends?  I have wonderful friends, but since I started trying to balance motherhood with working long hours, they've taken a back seat.  I've slowly started to share my situation with them, and those who I have told have been extremely supportive.  For me, it's brutally hard to share what I'm going through with people.  I've been trying to be perfect for so long, that I'm terrified of not being accepted.  Stupid considering my friends are truly wonderful, loving, non-judgemental people.

I've been isolating myself.  And, the more I hide under the metaphorical covers, the more frightened I am of people and the more I want to hide.  Sometimes I wonder if I suffer from social anxiety.  People scare me. I feel awkward, like I don't fit in.  And, now that I've been depressed, I feel even more self-conscious and alone.  Everything I say - or write - seems to come out wrong, and I find myself alienating people.  Then, this fear overcomes me, and I don't want to see anyone anymore.  I just don't feel like I belong anywhere... other than here... hiding from the world.

How I Became Depressed Mom: Work-Life Balance

Work-a-holics who are devoted mothers face a unique challenge when they return to work:  how do you balance your love for your child with an overwhelming desire to exceed expectations at work?

Hard was an understatement.

I desperately wanted to have baby, and when I found out I was pregnant, I was walking on air happy.  The little guy immediately became my world and focus.  I know it's cliche: the day he was born was truly one of the happiest days of my life.

I truly LOVED being a Mom.  We would go to the zoo and parks; I'd read him stories, and we'd play.  It was so magical.  I never realised life could be like this. 

Then, about two or three months before I was due to return to work, I suddenly hit a bit of a funk.  After spending my life either in school to hone my trade or working, I suddenly felt out of sorts - like my identity had shifted away.  I went to the doctor to request anti-depressants, but I never took them.  I didn't need them because took an on-line class through the local university and felt like myself again.

At first, returning to work wasn't so difficult. When I was there, I was 100% there, and when I was at home, I was 100% with my son.  As the workload increased, I spent longer and longer hours at the office... at least 10 hours, sometimes more.  Then, I'd bring work home with me.  I couldn't be as available for my son as I wanted to be.

Adding to the stress was that my partner is also a work-a-holic, and he was working longer hours too.  He was also busy building our home, which meant that whenever I wasn't working, I was primarily responsible for our child.

There was tremendous Mommy guilt.  I wanted to devote myself to my child, but I found it harder and harder as the work days were longer, and exhaustion and I became one.

Now, even though I'm not working and the little guy spends most weekdays at the day home, I still haven't been able to regain my strength or energy.  I zone-out when I'm with him.  And, that breaks my heart.  He deserves better.  He deserves a Mom who is more engaged in his life.

How I became Depressed Mom - Work

Well, if you're looking to know how I became a Mom, this isn't the right site (lame - I know).  How I became depressed though... I'm not sure.  I think it was a lot of stuff.  But, I'll never be sure what combination lead to it.

Today's entry will focus on work. Like my family, I'm a work-a-holic and a perfectionist.

When other little girls were dreaming of getting married and having kids, I dreamt of having a career.  That's all I wanted.  A successful career.  I excelled in school, and despite a few road bumps, in university too. After I received my degree, I worked very hard to build a reputation of excellence in my chosen field.  I had a wonderful job in mid-management in a well known industry for almost 10 years before I became pregnant.  Unfortunately, my fiance lived in a different city, which meant one of us would have to move.  The place where I worked was in a small town, and I yearned to return to the big city.  So, the choice seemed obvious.

Initially, I was thrilled to find a non-profit, big city job in my field.  My direct supervisor is a leader in my industry, and I was honoured to have him as my mentor.  The job itself was a couple rungs down the corporate ladder; I would no longer supervise a team or manage a budget, and there was a pay cut... about $20,000 a year less.  But, I convinced myself, I could handle it and learn new things.

And, I did.  I loved working for this organisation.  It was challenging. I had a chance to work with wonderful, dynamic people. Industry leaders.

I worked hard with my team mates... taking the lead role on various projects.  Streamlining things.  Using my skills.  I really enjoyed the challenges and making a difference. 

My coworkers are lovely, kind, hard-working, modest people. We'd go for coffee walks to Starbucks every morning, sharing our thoughts, ideas, laughter and lives. We'd take turns treating.  The people who participated in this daily ritual changed as workload increased and decreased, but it was so nice to enjoy each other's company.  We'd go for walks or lunch together. (I treasure these relationships and these activities continued until I left work. I miss that camaraderie.)

However, things started to change.  People started to leave the organisation. Some were fired, while others, like the supervisor I wanted to learn from, resigned.  These should have been warning signs, but I dismissed them.

New boss was hired.  At first, she seemed lovely too.  She fully admitted that she has an obsessive need to get things done - regardless of outcome.  She'd rather get something done incorrectly and apologise for mistakes later... because getting it done was the most important thing.  For me, getting it done takes a backstage to getting it done right. What I didn't realise was the impact her approach to work would have on me. 

In my previous job, my boss instilled the value of process.  What steps do we need to take to ensure everything is covered off?  Who needs to know? Who needs to approve? What makes legal sense? Is the information accurate? Who are the resources? What are the timelines? 

My boss would start projects without thinking them through, flying by the seat of her pants, leaving holes in the process and possibly putting our organisation at risk from legal and ethical perspectives. Obviously, this created an integral conflict.

The job pace picked up and became unmanageable.  Especially given my boss' need to get things done, and my need to get things done right.

My boss started dismissing my opinions and experience, as she seemed to view them as obstacles to getting work done.  She'd even 'shush' me in meetings, when I tried to bring up ethics or legal coverage.  I started to question if my approach was wrong.  Maybe ensuring that ethical and legal practices were being followed wasn't the norm in the big city?  But, I needed to ensure my conscience clear.  Thankfully, most other coworkers shared my desire to follow ethical and legal practices, so I had some support there.

To make matters worse, my boss always sided with a recent graduate, who was working in our department.  She seemed to value her opinion more than anyone else.  Okay, that's not just me being paranoid.  Many co-workers mentioned they thought my boss' relationship with the girl (yes... she is a girl) was odd.

From what I saw, the girl has significant emotional issues. Everyone who spoke to me said they felt like they were walking on eggshells around her.  Trying not to upset her.  She would cry at the drop of a hat over very little. And, when I say cry, I really mean freak-out.

The girl assumed her degree meant she was equal to any person working in the industry, regardless of how much experience the person has. She would brag about her skills, saying she knew all about a topic because she'd taken an hour session or a class about it.  Having worked in this industry for more than 20 years, I know it takes more than an hour of education or a class to understand a topic.  It's real-life experience that makes a difference.

This attitude meant this girl didn't want to do things that were below her... Like stuff envelopes or prepare packages (things pretty standard for rookies in my industry).  In my world, it doesn't matter who you are, if something needs to be done, you do it to ensure the project is complete.

My boss seemed to reinforce her image of herself - giving her plum projects, asking if it would be okay for the girl to do a menial task (of course, the girl would often say she was too busy with another task, so the job fell to other people). And, of course, guess who would pick-up the pieces.  Me. Of course, when I fixed things that were done incorrectly upon request of our President while the girl was away, my boss got angry with me, saying I should stay out of things (she later apologised).

The girl was also known to be a bit of a 'credit seeker'. She'd take credit for all sorts of work she had very little to do with.

Unfortunately, despite my successes (and there are quite a few!), I am the type of person who shares credit with everyone.  I usually downplay my work, to ensure that those who helped out - even a little bit - get acknowledged.  I try not to take credit for other people's work.

All of this, combined with a ridiculously fast-pace and long work hours, certainly contributed to my stress levels.  I know I'm severely burned out.  But is this the only reason I'm depressed? Probably not.  I've handled dysfunctional working relationships before.  This is just one piece of the Depressed Mom puzzle.

About Depressed Mom

I am a depressed Mom of a three year old boy.

However, if you weren't in my close inner circle of family and friends or one of the health care practitioners I've been seeing, you might not even notice anything wrong.  In fact, it took me a little while to figure out that there was something wrong. 

After months of emptiness, not feeling pleasure in anything, an inability to concentrate, general numbness and chronic exhaustion I started experiencing horrible panic attacks that lead to very odd behaviour. My formerly precise memory started to fade... I'd forget people who I'd known for considerable lengths of time. Looking back, I think I experienced a nervous breakdown.

After being a workaholic for most of my life, I called in sick for an important week, where my area of expertise was absolutely required.  I couldn't function.  I barely got off the couch (thankfully, I took my son to his day home each day, so I didn't have to worry about him).

Moving in a trance-like state, unable to concentrate, unable to feel joy in ANYTHING, I knew there was something seriously wrong.  And, when I say unable to feel joy in anything... I mean ANYTHING, or at least anything positive.  I would cuddle my son... feel nothing; I'd do something special with my fiance/common-law husband...feel nothing; laugh so hard at a TV program that my cheeks were hurting...feel nothing; receive accolades for my work...feel nothing.  I feel nothing positive.  No matter what I do.  Oddly, I say that I'm excited, laugh, crack jokes, smile, and yet nothing connects to my brain.  I don't feel it in my heart or anywhere I can consciously recognise.

Unfortunately, all the negative emotions exploded in my brain.  I wasn't able to sleep; panic, fear and anger became constant companions.

I was grateful my doctor put me on sick leave several months ago.  I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder and anhedonia - something I wouldn't have even believed existed before I started experiencing it.

In case you're wondering, I don't drink alcohol or take illegal drugs (only prescription and over the counter and as per instructions).  If you were to meet me, you might think that there's nothing wrong with me.  I appear pretty 'normal' - whatever 'normal' means.

I'd like to say that I'm feeling much better - able to function normally and that I'm back at work, but despite my efforts to get better, I'm still the same as I was several months ago.

This blog will help me try to regain my life - and what I've lost - and ideally, I'll start to feel happiness again.

By sharing my journey (there are lots more details to come), I also hope to help those in similar situations.