I've been doing quite well of late considering how much I have worked. I have not had a full day off of work since the 15th of this month, and will not have one off until this Sunday, the 1st of August. Some of the shifts are sleep shifts, so it's not so bad, but it's still time away from home and with responsibilities. Considering the hours put in (118 in two weeks) and having the family at home, I've done much better than I thought I would, which pleases me. It tells me I've learned a lot more about taking care of myself and pacing myself when I know I need to.
Still, I know there is still some deep issues I'll need to work out stemming from my time in the hospital. Quite a few things got put on hold, which was necessary at the time, and I think need to come out now. It's been four years since that time, and while I knew it would always stay with me, it amazes me how much power it can still hold over me. The horror of the time is still very much a part of me. On the other hand, it probably amazes me even more how much I've recovered from it and moved on.
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Monday, July 19, 2004
Charting Success...
When I first began dealing with depression I heard from several sources one of the essential tools is a journal, which is one of the reasons I started this blog. But the reason behind keeping a journal is to track progress. It's easy to lose sight of one's accomplishments. They don't stand up very well, in point of view, to time. In thinking on this, I devised two systems for tracking my depression. One was a mood graph. I won't go into details, but I have a point system to keep tabs on how many good days I'm having and how many bad ones I'm having. It also keeps track of how good or how bad they are.
In time I began to see a need for a second chart. This one tracked productivity. This one is a little trickier to assign a value system to, and I'm frequently modifying it. Again, I won't go into detail, but basically there is a point system, plus and minus, to track how busy I'm keeping myself, as well as penalizing myself for procrastination and whatnot.
Both charts have been on a tear upwards of late, which is great. I've had predominantly good days for the last two months now, which I think might be a record. This is also coming after one of the longest slumps I've been in for a long time. Most of this year, up until two months ago, things were pretty dismal. The days weren't overwhelmingly bad, there were just a lot of them. It gives further evidence to the assistance medication brings. I believe much of it is also experience beginning to kick in. I'm finding myself rolling with punches and coming back faster from down spells.
The next two weeks should be a great test. I won't have another full day off of work until the beginning of next month. This isn't as bad as it sounds, because some of them are sleep shifts which by default cover two days. But it should be a good test. I've not been working a whole lot of late, and have found myself feeling a little glum because of it. I find myself looking forwards to work, a feeling foreign to depression. As I've felt in the past, it's not so much that I'm lazy, or was, but that I just don't care. It's hard to care about anything when you're depressed.
It's feels good to care.
In time I began to see a need for a second chart. This one tracked productivity. This one is a little trickier to assign a value system to, and I'm frequently modifying it. Again, I won't go into detail, but basically there is a point system, plus and minus, to track how busy I'm keeping myself, as well as penalizing myself for procrastination and whatnot.
Both charts have been on a tear upwards of late, which is great. I've had predominantly good days for the last two months now, which I think might be a record. This is also coming after one of the longest slumps I've been in for a long time. Most of this year, up until two months ago, things were pretty dismal. The days weren't overwhelmingly bad, there were just a lot of them. It gives further evidence to the assistance medication brings. I believe much of it is also experience beginning to kick in. I'm finding myself rolling with punches and coming back faster from down spells.
The next two weeks should be a great test. I won't have another full day off of work until the beginning of next month. This isn't as bad as it sounds, because some of them are sleep shifts which by default cover two days. But it should be a good test. I've not been working a whole lot of late, and have found myself feeling a little glum because of it. I find myself looking forwards to work, a feeling foreign to depression. As I've felt in the past, it's not so much that I'm lazy, or was, but that I just don't care. It's hard to care about anything when you're depressed.
It's feels good to care.
Sunday, July 04, 2004
Fear...
Felt a twinge of that old fear that comes up now and again within me the other day. It's something that to some point has always been there, and I've never known why. What was it in my childhood, infanthood (in the womb even?) that something caused the great fear, the paranoia? I've begun to wonder if it was ever anything at all. OCD is labeled an anxiety disorder. Of course, like with all mental illnesses/disorders, whether the chicken or the egg came first will always be the question. Did the fear cause the obsessive behavior, or was it in reverse? What caused what? We may never know.
But that may not matter anyway. It's the dealing with it that matters. Sometimes the why is everything, sometimes, and I think in this case, it's a moot point. It is and it will continue to be. And I will continue to deal with it as it arises.
I feel exceptionally frustrated that I'm unable to articulate the fear. It's not an average or common fear, as far as I can tell. Especially because most of it is based on nothing. It's not fear of death, or getting into an accident, or losing a loved one. It's an indefinable fear. A psychotic fear? I almost fear that things are going to jump out at me from no where. What exactly I don't know. It's kind of a fear that the fabric of the universe is going to rip open and reveal some horrid universe.
As I write it now I see how crazy it sounds. And maybe that makes sense. Maybe it's residual fear from my bouts in the hospital, my pseudo-psychotic lapses. Losing one's mind, even if only temporarily and then only partially, is not something I would wish on anyone, and I do mean anyone. I know I never fully dealt with the terror I experienced at the time. I couldn't. I had to pretend it hadn't happened to get myself out of it. The more I worried about my mind, the more the sickness lingered. I know I packed a lot of the experience away into baggage I'm still carrying around. Do I want to open it? Is it worth it? Is it a Pandora's box?
I can deal with it for the time being. I acknowledge the fear, and then give it no credence. Like John Nash in A Beautiful Mind, I too have learned to subsist on a mental diet. I indulge some appetites and avoid others. I do not know where the fear, panic, comes from (sometimes it's been so strong I feel I am not in control of my own mind), but I do know it comes and goes like the weather, and if I ignore it for long enough, it will go away.
But that may not matter anyway. It's the dealing with it that matters. Sometimes the why is everything, sometimes, and I think in this case, it's a moot point. It is and it will continue to be. And I will continue to deal with it as it arises.
I feel exceptionally frustrated that I'm unable to articulate the fear. It's not an average or common fear, as far as I can tell. Especially because most of it is based on nothing. It's not fear of death, or getting into an accident, or losing a loved one. It's an indefinable fear. A psychotic fear? I almost fear that things are going to jump out at me from no where. What exactly I don't know. It's kind of a fear that the fabric of the universe is going to rip open and reveal some horrid universe.
As I write it now I see how crazy it sounds. And maybe that makes sense. Maybe it's residual fear from my bouts in the hospital, my pseudo-psychotic lapses. Losing one's mind, even if only temporarily and then only partially, is not something I would wish on anyone, and I do mean anyone. I know I never fully dealt with the terror I experienced at the time. I couldn't. I had to pretend it hadn't happened to get myself out of it. The more I worried about my mind, the more the sickness lingered. I know I packed a lot of the experience away into baggage I'm still carrying around. Do I want to open it? Is it worth it? Is it a Pandora's box?
I can deal with it for the time being. I acknowledge the fear, and then give it no credence. Like John Nash in A Beautiful Mind, I too have learned to subsist on a mental diet. I indulge some appetites and avoid others. I do not know where the fear, panic, comes from (sometimes it's been so strong I feel I am not in control of my own mind), but I do know it comes and goes like the weather, and if I ignore it for long enough, it will go away.
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