Tag: Depression

The Tripod

There is a holy trinity in mental health care for treating depression and anxiety that us patients rather a hate to be reminded of. (Well, that might just be me.) To maximize the success of your mental health care plan, it needs to have elements of prescription medication management, professional psychotherapy, and physical exercise.

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Part 1: Medication: It took me years to have the courage to accept that I needed medication. Once I did, I needed regular check ins between myself, my prescriber, and my therapist. Taking care of this part of the tripod is as much about the consistent check ins regarding what is and isn’t effective as it is about taking the medication correctly

Part 2: Therapy: Therapy has been a part of my life since I was a teen. There are dozens of philosophies and methods. My current therapist has been a part of my care team for a year. She specializes in Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT) and insists that we make and work towards goals in therapy instead of simply coming in and ranting about the stresses and tribulations of the previous week. https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/therapy-types/dialectical-behavior-therapy

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Part 3: Exercise. Gods, I hate being told that I can’t expect my care plan to be effective if I’m not exercising. That being understood, every doctor and every therapist has made a point of suggesting an exercise plan to coordinate with my medications and talk therapy. I pick up exercise and put it down again over and over, never entirely managing to make it a part of my daily routine. A year ago I managed 5 months of working out 3-5 times a week and ran a 5k Virtual Race. Now, though, I’m struggling to manage 2 weekly workouts. I’m on an upswing, mentally and physically. Maybe this part of my care will stay in balance for longer this time.

Taste the Rainbow

We are changing my meds up this week. This is directly because of the issues in my last post and finally managing to tell my doctor about it. My basic antidepressant is staying the same, my supplemental antidepressant is being cut in half for a week and then removed altogether, and to combat the sedative effect of the supplemental antidepressant I have been given a stimulant. I’ve never taken a prescription strength stimulant in the long term, and the dose I’m starting on is moderately high.

Today is Day One of this new medication array, and I expect it to be the day when the stimulant’s impact is most startling. I got up an hour earlier than usual to take advantage of it, and by noon I was dressed (!!!), had putaway three loads of laundry and started a new one, cleaned the bathtubs and toilets, scooped the cat’s litter, watered the garden, worked in my BuJo, and gotten the kids going on schoolwork. It is three times what I have accomplished in an entire day in recent weeks. I know this isn’t likely to be a long term solution, but it feels nice to have access to this energy. I don’t feel high, which I was afraid of. Instead I feel alert and like I have access to the healthy energy levels that have previously been inaccessible.

Once I finish this post, it will be lunch time for the kiddos, then I will work out a plan for dinner and maybe we’ll all walk to the playground. Contrary to the title this post, I can’t actually taste colors. What I can do, today at least, is live up to my own standard regarding what it is reasonable to accomplish in a day. I could cry.

Bad Days:Depression

I’m having a rough month. I have no energy, I’m struggling to get out of the house, and even in the house I am hardly moving. Today is the first day in a week when I have been able to write. I don’t expect to get far.

(Note: I really didn’t get far. Those four sentences sat on my computer for a full week without anything else happening.)

The bad days of depression creep up on me. I don’t know how it works for other people. One day I’m muddling along just fine, the next I’m sleeping 15 hours per day and can’t focus on anything for long enough to be productive.

How do I write about the nothingness that is depression without suicidal ideation? It echos. I don’t particularly want to hurt myself. I don’t particularly want anything. I shift from sleep, to staring vacantly, and then back to sleep. My poor kids. Today they are off on a great outing with their daddy while I try to find the will to finish this post and do a little laundry.

The bad days of depression happen in the broadest sunlight, with the windows open and the birds singing. They happen even when I’m taking my meds and exercising daily. The bad days of depression feel like a slow grey suction draining the ability to work effectively; to enjoy the things I usually love; to make use of time that I know is a blessing.

How do I talk about the bad days of depression without sounding like a cliche? This isn’t much of a post. The sun is shining. A bird is singing in the lilac bush. It’s just all exhausting and grey.

Opposite of My Urges

My therapist tell me that when I identify unhealthy urges I should make a point of acting in opposition to those urges. When I want to self injure, I should do some kind of self care instead. When I want to over sleep, I should try to do something active. Today, I want to do absolutely nothing. My mind feels dull and slow, so in opposition I am trying to do some writing and I plan to do some stitching.

Mentally, I’m just so slow. The girls are playing “PJ Masks” upstairs: cute and sweet as can be. I started the laundry, too, so I’m not at zero productivity for the morning.

There. I wrote something. Next, I’m going to sew a hexagon flower patch onto my ancient, nearly transparent, favorite nightgown. After that I will rest.

How do you oppose your unhealthy urges? Tell me! I want to hear about you making healthy choices. <3

Inevitable Defeat

I’ve missed a week of posting. I got overwhelmed with getting ready for my mother-in-law’s visit, then I fell into the trap of thinking that this hurdle is a complete defeat. I haven’t completely gotten past it yet, and the total lack of people interested in reading here doesn’t help. I may have something to say, and the internet may give me a voice, but that doesn’t make anyone want to hear.

Clutter Makes it Worse

Moving sucks. If our living environment impacts our mental health, and most experty experts agree that it does, then moving is signing up for a serious downgrade on mental security.

First, you go through the filthy job of packing and cleaning the old place, then you are left up to your eye teeth in boxes. Boxes of pre-curated clutter and junk with enough sentimental value that if you can see it you want to keep it.

We are up to it in boxes of clutter right now. We have unpacked enough that we are able to live quite comfortably, but there are stacks of untouched boxes in the corners and about a fifth of the main living space is crammed with them. We have been officially in the new place for 7 weeks. My mood is swinging all around, and I’m struggling to stay vertical all day. It isn’t pretty and we are all suffering for it.

I’m sorely tempted to throw away any/everything still in boxes, then I remember that it includes my photos flash drive and I start wonder what other important things I’m forgetting about, so I have to go through all of it. Sadly, for every awesome find like my flash drive I know there will be a dozen or more little objects that I neither want nor need that I will have to deal with. Broken pencils, sentimental knick knacks, things that I received as gifts that no longer make any sense but still carry a burden of obligation.

How will I cope? What do you recommend? Well, it is obvious as I write this that I need to get the unpacking and secondary purging f-f-f-finished. This is less obvious when the kids are demanding entertainment and the laundry needs doing, and homeschool, and dinner, and and and.

Maybe working on one box, not necessarily emptying it, should become part of my after-Rosebud’s-sleeping routine. In our old home I got up nightly to exercise and work in my journal. Maybe reinstituting that will help me feel less like I’m drowning in unfulfilled potential and suicidal resentment.

Blog Direction Re: Isolation

I’m still looking for direction on this site. I want to offer stories of successes over a variety of mental and neurological health difficulties. I want to discuss advice I’ve been given over the years, about parenting and my health. I want to show windows into my life, when it is good and when it is bad. I want other parents with these troubles to find my site and see that they aren’t so alone. I want to reduce the cultural shame and isolation by standing up and saying “I have a mental disease AND I am a good parent. They are in no way exclusive.”


Isolation is a common symptom of mental health troubles, across the board. For me when my symptoms are rampant, I am loath to leave the house. I struggle to reply to text messages, let alone phone calls. I frequently reach out on the internet to find other people like me, but can’t engage even in internet conversations. Today, I’m on the other end. Today, I know that there are thousands of other families out there fighting to keep their heads above water with these kinds of illnesses. I know that my case is not particularly unique. And today I want to reach out to people so they can find their way back. You are not alone. WE are not alone. Comment below, even just a mood emoji. Reach out. There are people in this world who miss you since you have been gone. Don’t let your disease steal them away.

Today’s Mood: B

Gratitude Practice

Depression makes you forget. Depression flattens the wonder of the world. We have lived here for scant months, and I have already gotten to resenting the imperfections of this place.

This time last year, we were renting month-to-month from a 94 year old. Seven years ago, I was convinced I would never be a mother. A dozen years back and I was in an abusive relationship unable to give myself permission to leave.

Today I’m married to my best friend, we have two amazing daughters, and we own our home. I’m still sick, the girls present unique challenges, and our home isn’t a Forever Home, but life is amazing. I never would have believed it not all that long ago.

(Graphic by MJ Kocovski)

Diagnosis: Major Depression

OK! Personal spotlight on exactly what my deal is. My first diagnosis, and one that still sticks after all these years, is Major Depressive Disorder, or Major Depression. Is there a difference between this and just plain depression? It is a matter of degree, I think. For me it is the difference between a “blue funk,” and months or years of a flattened mood; the difference between a passing urges to self injure and constant, detailed planning with or without attempts; between a “one and done” treatment plan where a single layer of treatment clears thing up, and a multilayered delicate balance of lifestyle, meds, and talk therapies that attempt to give the largest possible window of relief.

Hell, that’s just my impression though. For me, ever since I was 16 I have been prone to deep black moods that have lasted months. Even years. I have attempted suicide and been a cutter because I just wanted the buzz of constant pain to stop. There is no explanation for the physical sensations except brain chemistry. I have anxiety attacks and social anxiety as part of my secondary symptom set.

I have been on one antidepressant or another on and off for 17 years. I managed to wean off for my pregnancies, but my hormones are their very own kind of special and impact my mood their own way. But more on that another day.

Today I am on a blend of two meds, a handful of tailored dietary supplements, I attend therapy every other week, and I am on a strict exercise plan of cardio or yoga 4-5 days a week. I’ll give you three guesses which one I struggle with most.

This is the aspect of my mental health that drags down my baseline mood. On it’s own it is crippling, and it is the first line on the my disability determination. My other jumble of intermittent and or cyclical disorders just pile on top of this to keep me from being traditionally productive and happy.

I find a way, though. We do, together. Tonight, with a sick kiddo (Isn’t there always one?) and Alex out until an hour after bedtime, I’m taking things slow. My 2 year old wanted to cuddle nearly all day, so very little got done, but it is such a pleasure to hold her. My big girl, 5, got far far too much TV, but also let her baby sister lay in the big girl bed for cuddle and is now blowing my mind by going to bed with no fight. Little things. Good things.