Saturday, May 31, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
When my doctor first told me last summer that I had anxiety, I didn't believe him. I didn't feel anxious and I sure as hell didn't have anything to be anxious about. I kept brushing off the symptoms (heart palpitations, a persistent choking sensation in my throat, sleepless nights) looking for some magic pill that would make it all go away. It wasn't until I landed in the ER one night with a full blown panic attack that I decided to take the doctor's diagnosis seriously.
"Get rid of stress," she said. I learned how to relax and breathe through stressful situations.
"Make sure to get enough exercise," she said. I ran a marathon and took up yoga.
"Eat well and drink plenty of water," she said. I swore off fast food and kept my diet as clean as possible. Not quite organic, think natural.
"Find something you enjoy to make you happy," she said. I quit my job and decided to go to graduate school.
I followed the doctor's orders under the assumption that what was going on inside my brain was directly related to the things going on around me, in other words, situational. If I could only change everything around me, I would start to get better.
But what I didn't expect was to do all these things and feel worse as a result. It never occurred to me that I might have something deeper going on. I started missing work and used up all my vacation and sick time for the year before the end of April. I stayed in bed all day with the TV on as white noise, I didn't even hear it. I completely lost interest in anything and everything I used to find enjoyable. I cried constantly and for no reason and isolated myself from friends and family. Somewhere in the midst of all this, the Boy Toy hit the road, I'm not sure exactly when.
After about 6 weeks of being unable to function normally, my mom sent me to see a therapist. Through several sessions with him, I've begun to realize that I'm fighting a much bigger beast than I ever expected. He agreed with my doctor's original diagnosis, but that anxiety is only part of the problem. He told me I've probably had a mild form of depression for many many years but because it's gone untreated for so long, I've grown to assume depression as part of my personality, not recognizing it as a legitimate disease and the toll it's taken on my life.
"Get rid of stress," she said. I learned how to relax and breathe through stressful situations.
"Make sure to get enough exercise," she said. I ran a marathon and took up yoga.
"Eat well and drink plenty of water," she said. I swore off fast food and kept my diet as clean as possible. Not quite organic, think natural.
"Find something you enjoy to make you happy," she said. I quit my job and decided to go to graduate school.
I followed the doctor's orders under the assumption that what was going on inside my brain was directly related to the things going on around me, in other words, situational. If I could only change everything around me, I would start to get better.
But what I didn't expect was to do all these things and feel worse as a result. It never occurred to me that I might have something deeper going on. I started missing work and used up all my vacation and sick time for the year before the end of April. I stayed in bed all day with the TV on as white noise, I didn't even hear it. I completely lost interest in anything and everything I used to find enjoyable. I cried constantly and for no reason and isolated myself from friends and family. Somewhere in the midst of all this, the Boy Toy hit the road, I'm not sure exactly when.
After about 6 weeks of being unable to function normally, my mom sent me to see a therapist. Through several sessions with him, I've begun to realize that I'm fighting a much bigger beast than I ever expected. He agreed with my doctor's original diagnosis, but that anxiety is only part of the problem. He told me I've probably had a mild form of depression for many many years but because it's gone untreated for so long, I've grown to assume depression as part of my personality, not recognizing it as a legitimate disease and the toll it's taken on my life.
.
These last few weeks or months is something he called a "major depressive episode", like layers of an onion, the anxiety revealing itself last year as yet another symptom of a much larger issue. It's not situational, it's medical. If I had cancer or diabetes, you wouldn't tell me to "cheer up and get over it" or to stop having cancer or being diabetic. Like any other disease, the symptoms are real. The pain is deep. The healing is long. But there is healing.
.
I have an appointment with a psychiatrist next week to (hopefully) get a better idea of what kind of depression I have so he can start to treat it with the right combination of cognitive talk therapy and medications. If you (or anyone you know) think you may have depression, please seek medical help. I'm learning that there is hope after all.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Back on track
Having finally made the decision to quit my job, the choking sensation I usually have at the bottom of my throat has finally started to loosen. Now, I just have to actually go through with handing over my resignation letter to my boss, which I will do on May 16th. I'm pretty nervous about that but I just have to keep reminding myself that I'm doing the right thing. It will be ok.
In other news, I actually went for a run last night. You heard correctly. I actually started out by going to the gym and had to dust off my gym card because it's been months since I've been there. My friend behind the counter greeted me like the Prodigal Son when I walked through the door. Yeah, yeah... I did some squats and lunges; worked my upper body and shoulders a little bit. I kept peeking over at the people on the treadmills wondering what the heck my problem was. Why couldn't I just get out there and run already?
I decided to run around my neighborhood when I got home rather than get on the treadmill because it was so gorgeous outside. It would've been a crime to run on a treadmill! I only managed 2.2 miles and I was sucking wind the entire time, but it didn't feel all bad.
It's so hard to get back in shape and so so so so easy to get out of it. Just like losing weight is so hard and gaining it is so so so so easy. I have a long road ahead but I think if I take some time away from work and focus on myself physically (keeping that marathon in October in the back of my mind), my mental well being won't be far behind.
In other news, I actually went for a run last night. You heard correctly. I actually started out by going to the gym and had to dust off my gym card because it's been months since I've been there. My friend behind the counter greeted me like the Prodigal Son when I walked through the door. Yeah, yeah... I did some squats and lunges; worked my upper body and shoulders a little bit. I kept peeking over at the people on the treadmills wondering what the heck my problem was. Why couldn't I just get out there and run already?
I decided to run around my neighborhood when I got home rather than get on the treadmill because it was so gorgeous outside. It would've been a crime to run on a treadmill! I only managed 2.2 miles and I was sucking wind the entire time, but it didn't feel all bad.
It's so hard to get back in shape and so so so so easy to get out of it. Just like losing weight is so hard and gaining it is so so so so easy. I have a long road ahead but I think if I take some time away from work and focus on myself physically (keeping that marathon in October in the back of my mind), my mental well being won't be far behind.
Monday, May 05, 2008
End of an Era
For better or for worse, the time has come. That's right, I'm putting in my resignation at my job. As risky and stupid as it may be, I do not have another job lined up. While this leaves an already severely anxious person (me) with more anxiety than she needs, it is time. I have some savings I can live off of for a few months but after that, who knows.
I made the decision a few weeks ago after I'd been sent home after yet another mental break down in my bosses office. She clearly has no idea what to do with me. Even on meds, my anxiety from my work has become unmanageable so I feel it's time for me to take some time off and get my friggin head together before I end up in a padded room somewhere.
I'm pretty sure my backing out of The Pig is symptomatic of all this going on at work. My doctor agrees that physical activity would be so beneficial for me but I just can't seem to get it together. I've completely lost all motivation to do pretty much anything active and can see the damage it's doing to my waistline. But do I do anything about it? Nope.
I made the decision a few weeks ago after I'd been sent home after yet another mental break down in my bosses office. She clearly has no idea what to do with me. Even on meds, my anxiety from my work has become unmanageable so I feel it's time for me to take some time off and get my friggin head together before I end up in a padded room somewhere.
I'm pretty sure my backing out of The Pig is symptomatic of all this going on at work. My doctor agrees that physical activity would be so beneficial for me but I just can't seem to get it together. I've completely lost all motivation to do pretty much anything active and can see the damage it's doing to my waistline. But do I do anything about it? Nope.
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