The sun is shining after days of dark skies

Last week I slipped back into a pretty serious episode of depression and anxiety. And I don't know why.

I'd been taking my meds and staying fairly active, at least getting on a treadmill for 30 minutes a couple times a week. Not intense exercise, but at least I was doing something.

This week, lo and behold, I feel much better. Could it be the sunshine after days of dreary skies brightened my mood? Or my intentional effort to eat better? Praying for relief more fervently? Going for a sweat-inducing run on an unseasonably warm afternoon yesterday? The long-awaited debut of "American Idol"?

I'm not certain, but it's probably all of the above. 

One frustrating aspect of depression is it's easier to deconstruct good days than bad days. Let me explain. I just laid out a bunch of reasons that probably explain why I feel better this week. Only I have no idea how I got to that bad, dark place last week. Did irrational anxiety about things I can't control start me down the slippery slope to depression? Was it the new drug I was taking as a replacement for Valium, which I usually take as needed when my anxiety gets really bad? Was it those ghastly gray skies, day after day?

I don't know for sure, and neither does my therapist. She flipped back through her records during our bi-weekly session today and noticed that two weeks ago I reported feeling flat. Walking me through last week, we figured out one difficult and stressful task at work—in which I had no clue what I was doing but was too ashamed to admit I was confused and needed help—may have been the final shove toward despair and depression.

So what did I learn from this experience? My psychiatrist took me off that new drug that just made me miserably drowsy. (I'm back to Valium as needed). My therapist coached me to be more self-aware and to look for "cues" that I'm slipping, because if you know you're slipping, it's easier to stop the slide.

A cue might be "all or nothing," irrational thinking, i.e., "I stink at this project and I'm going to lose my job." Had I stopped those inevitable racing thoughts, I could have just slowed down and asked for help.

Only that's not easy for me to do. My sagging self-confidence, which I wrote about in my last blog, sometimes leads me to believe that I can't make mistakes. My ruminating mind tricks me into believing that if I ask for help, I'll come across looking like a dope. How messed up is that?

I feel pretty good today. The sun is still shining and I'm able to focus better. And I know winter, the hardest time for me every year, is one day closer to turning into that hopeful time of spring, when the days are longer and less depressing.

Tomorrow, I leave for a three-day spiritual retreat. I won't get into the details just yet, but it's 72 hours without cell phones, emails or even watches. I look forward to sharing about that experience when I get back—and hopefully how it changed me for the better.

Depression stole my swagger

There are a lot of miserable symptoms of major depression. Despair. Fatigue. Loss of interest in things we once enjoyed. Stomach-churning anxiety. Real, physical pain. Those are just a few.

Worst of all, this soul-sapping brain disease can steal our self-confidence.

At least that’s what my wife noticed recently.

After a tough six months of on-again, off-again depression, I’ve come to realize she is exactly right. Depression stole my swagger.

I was once brimming with self-confidence. Not arrogance, but confidence in my ability to accomplish anything I set my mind to do. Then I crashed and burned with my first major battle with Major Depression.

Sadly, I can’t remember the last time I felt truly confident.

My current meds and time with my therapist are helping me survive each day, but I’m sick of just hoping to survive. I want to start really living again.

Is that too much to ask? I don’t think so.

So what am I going to do about it?

I’m going to be more intentional about setting modest goals that I can achieve, whether it’s at work or at home. Achieving those goals will surely help build my self-confidence back. I am keenly aware that such cognitive behavioral therapy works, but it is difficult to be diligent about using those tools when you feel depressed and mentally exhausted.

I blogged earlier about the need to “fake it til you make it,” and I still believe that. I just wish it wasn’t so darn hard.

Today was a good day; what gives?

Today was a really good day. I don’t know why exactly, but it was.

Never mind the troublesome fact that having one good day is blog worthy. That probably means I have a long way to go in fully recovering from a crash-and-burn episode of severe depression last summer.

Yet that’s a blog for another day. Let’s get back to today. It was a whistle-in-the shower, think funny things, eat chocolate and enjoy life kind of day. Seriously.

Since I reverse engineered a bad day in an earlier blog, let’s walk back through today and see if we can identify what made it a good one. The fact that I didn’t have to go to work today surely is a factor, but I promise you I have just as many bad days on the weekends as I do during the work week—sometimes more. But in the interest of full disclosure, I was off today (work, that is).

• I ate a healthy breakfast. I learned in a partial hospitalization program that good nutrition is key in battling depression. This morning, I had a wheat waffle covered in peanut butter. No syrup!
• I went for a brisk walk. I’m a runner at heart but can’t bring myself to run hard again just yet. I’ve lost my edge, lost that eye of the tiger with this soul-sapping illness. But instead of lying on my ass today, I got it moving. I made two personal phone calls that I needed to make while walking, one to my mom and one to my brother.
• I did not drink alcohol last night. Back when I was a heavy drinker, the next day or two (okay, three) were often brutal. My anxiety would go through the roof. My depression would worsen. That was almost a guarantee.
• I took some time for myself. I went and got a massage. I’ve blogged about the benefits of massage before. It really helps me. If you are screaming through the keyboard that you can’t afford a massage right now or don’t have the time for it, fine. The point is I did something for me and me only. That’s pretty rare for me but it’s critical in recovery.

Today wasn’t perfect. But what day ever is, even for “normal” folks? Don’t get me wrong. I am not trying to simplify a complicated illness. Some days are brutal for those suffering from depression no matter what we do. Truth is, today was a good day because of choices I made today, yesterday, and the day before that and probably even the month before that. I’ve been taking my meds and making my appointments with my therapist, for example. 

I want to thank you for taking the time to read this blog. I write to cope and, hopefully, connect with others who suffer. If you had a bad day, take heart. Keep fighting. It will get better.