Here I am!

It took longer than expected to get back here, but I'm here now, hello! I feel like a human again. And not some kind of awful platypus. Not that platypuses are awful--I just felt like one that is. One that waddles around poisoning passersby with its venomous hind spurs, just because. Because it can. I'll bet his name is Gary. Gary the Asshole Platypus. God, what a dick. And to think I felt like just like him! Thank goodness that's over.

Thank you, everyone, for your kind messages and emails and comments. Except for the commenter who said I sounded like a "menopausal Vienese [sic] matron from 1896." I don't think he meant to crack me up, but holy hell, that made me laugh. That is awfully specific, sir! Not to mention puzzling. I never once mentioned my overly tight whale-bone corset OR the various remedies for Hysteria prescribed to me.

Listen. 

I can imagine how it sounds to some people, me being all, "I can't work! I have the Dark Mood! My doctor told me to have fun!" It sounded indulgent to me, for sure. I wasn't into it. I like to work. I vastly prefer it to near-constant thoughts of death. For instance.

I know there are people who roll their eyes at the idea that someone is too depressed to work. If they want to roll their eyes at me, that's fine (Henry rolls his eyes at me all day long, so I'm used to it), but I do wish everyone would stop with the idea that depression is just a mindset and a person need only cheer up, for goodness sake. Depression is not only the state of someone's mood. Depression affects your entire body. The negative thoughts and feelings almost seem like a byproduct of the physical toll depression can take. It's a horrifying experience, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

That said, I know from the comments that some of you are dealing with your own depression and anxiety, and you have my deepest sympathy, and fervent hopes that you feel better, and soon. Here are a few things that helped me (in addition to Prozac, Mirtazipine, and Klonopin):

Getting outside every day. For the first few days I couldn't walk more than a block or two (I don't know whether it was the meds or my brain, but any kind of exertion left me lightheaded and whoopsy), but I gently coaxed myself outside every day. Walking Charlie was a perfect activity--short distances (he's an old dog) with many stops (who feels compelled to pee on everything). Plus sometimes we would interact with other dog owners, and they were nice, which was a helpful reminder that Nice People Exist.

Instant Netflix (again). Although I've seen every episode of Arrested Development more times than I can count, I watched it some more. And "Working Girl," which I found strangely compelling, although I never have before. Sigourney Weaver, ladies. Am I right? (Although when Melanie Griffith lisps that line about having a head for business and a "bod for sin" I kind of want to punch something. Still, punching is better than crying!)

Podcasts. I love many podcasts, but right now my favorites are the Pod F. Tompkast, Superego, and Julie Klausner's How Was Your Week?  If you want to feel like you have witty, warm friends who are whispering hilarious somethings into your ear-canals, I can't recommend these podcasts enough.

Fish oil. Okay, I don't know if the fish oil actually did anything, but at least it helped me feel like I was being pro-active. Also, Vitamin D3. Which I am apparently deficient in. And I ignored my doctor's orders to take it, and then I read that a Vitamin D deficiency can cause depression, so I'm not ignoring my doctor's orders to take the Vitamin D now, is what I'm saying. I should have been taking it already. Again, I don't know if this helped. Maybe it did? No, definitely! Look how positive I am, now! VITAMIN D!

In other news, tomorrow's my birthday! And I am going to write more for you guys next week. Things are looking up. I'm glad you're still here. Or, you know, you've come back. I didn't think you were waiting here this whole time. I KNOW YOU HAVE A LIFE. Sheesh. I just, you know. You're here, and I'm here. Let's celebrate. Hooray!

Doctor's orders

I took one of those depression-quiz thingies online today, and out of 45, my score was 42. I win at depression! Which I guess means I lose at life right now.

Right now. I'm stressing that. This day is not so good. Yesterday was bad. Today is even so much worse, like you would not believe. And yet I'm hanging on. No choice in the  matter, after all.

My doctor has prescribed, in addition to an increase in the medication that I am not 100% sure is working in the first place, a complete work stoppage for the next two weeks. No work. That means no blogging, which I argued was not "work," per se, but he argued back that it does in fact tax my already limited mental/emotional reserves, which I can't argue with. It is staggeringly hard to think right now. Plus it's like the keyboard designers TRIED to make it harder for us to type. I have to put so much muscle into it!

In addition to not working, I have been commanded to entertain myself like it's my job, until (please yes soon?) the meds are working. I just finished watching "Eat Pray Love" on Netflix. Julia Roberts has such a veiny face! I found the movie smug (not surprising) but diverting.

So while I won't be updating with much of anything for the next two (2!) weeks, I will be checking in. And if you have any ideas for non-challenging, soothing diversions, I am all eyes. And appreciative (if mis-firing) brain. I love you guys. I kind of mean that, like a lot.

A startlingly accurate account of what's going on in my head right now

Brain: Did you know? Depressed people have shorter life spans.
Me: Oh, for the love of--cite your studies!
Brain: Oh, but there have been so many. Depression increases the risk of heart disease, cancer, strokes… isn't this a tremendous bummer? Let's think about your tragically abbreviated life for a while. Aw. You need another tissue?
Me: You are being such a prick right now, it's not even funny.
Brain: You know what else isn't funny?  Congestive heart failure. Sad face. Guess you won't see your grandkids.
Me: You realize that you are me, right? You're just messing with yourself.
Brain: I just think you should think about how you're being a terrible parent NOW, while you're still alive.
Me: Wait, what? What does that have to do with--
Brain: Your terrible parenting which will be the only legacy you leave in your short, sad life. Oh, wait, I forgot--you co-wrote a fake parenting book. Yeah, I'm sure that'll be one for the ages.
Me: But…but Kirkus Reviews liked it.
Brain: Sure. Kirkus liked it, which means it'll never end up in the remainder bin. Nope. You're like Virgil or whomever.
Me: Oh, that's it. You know what? BOXER ON A TRAMPOLINE, THAT'S WHAT. Blammo!
Brain: OH MY GOD THAT DOG IS ADORABLE--I mean, ahem, that dog is probably dead now?
Me: Nope. Not working. That dog cheered me up, and there's nothing you can do about it.
Brain: The dangers of trampolines? The effects of trampolines on depression? Uh?
Me: Can't hear you over all the joyous barking.
Brain: I bet that dog's dead. I'm going to go find out.
Me: Meantime, I'm just going to go ahead and get a load of a disapproving rabbit.

Brain: DAMN YOU.
Me: Just enjoy the rabbit, why don't you?
Brain: Cinnamon does love his carrot top.
Me: There you go.
Brain: You've won this round, Bradley. You've won this round. But as soon as we're done with this, I'm going to find some studies about…something. See if I don't.
Me: Shhh, now.


Depression: the awful sequel

So, the thing is, I am not feeling all that well.

Sometimes you just need to say it. I feel bad! I am feeling poorly. In the head, that is.

I had a lovely time on tour and at the conference--I truly did! I wasn't the crying-on-the-inside clown I can sometimes be at these things--but shortly after I got back a whole cascade of awfulness knocked me right over. I could blame it on exhaustion, and I'm sure that contributed, but also I've been adjusting to some new meds mixed in with withdrawal from my old meds. My old meds, which, it became clear, I still needed, so now I'm back on 'em. Plus the new one. Plus another one, for anxiety. It's getting very Valley of the Dolls up in here. I've got a Lazy Susan of pill bottles.

The acute horror of depression-recurrence has abated, mostly--I'm ambulatory, able to laugh and shower, and so on. But I haven't yet experienced that relief that washes over me when I realize my brain is back to its regular, happy hum. I'm no longer horrible, but I'm frustrated. And irritated. And maybe a little despairing? Every time this recurs, I feel the teensiest bit hopeless. I like to believe I have my Depression beat, but here it's been lurking in the shadows all this time, waiting, ready to pounce.

That dick.