Depression Update

In a continuing examination of my mental illness, I periodically try to make sense of my experience. It's my goal to share with others who might be experiencing similar things in order to support and comfort them. I am not interested in drawing attention to myself, except as just one of a million stories of mental illness. 

In case you need to catch up, here's my life in brief: I have had severe depression since my teens, if not before. It manifested in rage and anger, so I seemed to many who dealt with me to be an arrogant, snotty, angry, rebellious teenager. Mostly I just hated myself. Back in the 70s, in a small midwestern town, getting mental health care was fraught with stigma, and I wouldn't have known to ask for it anyway. In the 80s, I got married and started working. I was a mess inside, but trying super hard to hold it together on the outside, not always successfully. In 1989 I had my first child. 

Motherhood is hard enough, but so much harder when you have a mental illness. I had no time to focus on myself and my needs. Two  more children came along. The thing that saved me during this time was breastfeeding. As odd as that may sound, the hormones released when you nurse a child are calming and create feelings of well-being. I am convinced that if I had not breastfed my kids, I would have probably gone to a mental hospital. I was not at my best during those years, but the hormones helped. 

However, that didn't last forever. I reverted to my tactics of presenting a good mask to the world, while inside I was dying. Rage and anger were frequent. 

Finally, I reached a breaking point. I was in a deep, dark hole that only got deeper and darker. I was never going to get out. My husband, who was one of the few people who knew the true me and who never wavered in his support, suggested I seek out help and medication. (Until this point, I had a strong bias against the medical world, and a very strong bias against meds.) I started antidepressants and therapy. It was a rocky road, but it helped. 

That was about 15 years ago. Since then, I have been on meds continuously, went through years of therapy with a very kind and wonderful counselsor. I have an excellent psych nurse who has monitored me and guided me through this medical maze. If you are so inclined, you can read about those years in other posts on this blog. 

So here I am now. My psych nurse last year informed me that I am her most stable patient and she only needed to see me every six months. At one appointment she brought up the idea of potentially weaning off meds to see how I would do. I immediately squelched that idea. The mere thought returning to my darkness scared the shit out of me. 

Since then, I have taken a good hard look at where I am. In these 15 years, I have learned a lot about self care. I have learned where my limitations are and when I need to step off the runaway train of modern life to take a breath. I have supplemented with nutrients that help support my mental health and observed how much I need constant outdoor exposure to be well. In short, I have been able to put my own needs first. This is a hard thing. 

I realized recently that I have made friends with my depression. Sounds weird, but it's true. Depression has given me a lot of personal insight and growth. It's helped me have compassion for others, to have compassion for myself. It's strengthened me like nothing else. I have had to learn to accept things about myself. It's connected me with others. And, although I'm still working on this, depression has taught me how to strip off the mask and be authentic with everyone, especially myself. 

So I am ready for this step I'm now taking. With my psych nurse's blessing, I am weaning off my meds. It's scary to say. It's only been a few days. I don't know what lies ahead. It may not work for me. I have often said during these 15 years that if I have to take meds forever, I will. And I stand by that. However, in taking care of myself, I have a sense that now is the time for me to work with my mental illness in a different way, a way of not being in crisis, but in cohesion. I have no doubt that there will be ups and downs. I am stronger now and I hope I will be able to weather the downs. I have better support now, and the stigma in society is less than it was 40 years ago. 

I am not suggesting that anyone else should try this. I can't speak for others. And if you want to try, make sure to do it with medical supervision. I am not going cold turkey. I am going extremely slowly, so it may take more than a year before I am off entirely. (I was on such a high dose that I can cut by tens or twenties of milligrams and still be on a super high dose, so it will take time.) 

Why, you might ask, would someone do this when they are finally stable and in a really good place? My mental illness is stable, but my physical health is facing some risks that I believe might be exacerbated by my long-term, high dose of antidepressants. I feel like I am in a place now where taking care of my physical health needs to balance with my mental health. And I am ready to try to do that. I have spent nearly my whole life dealing with my mental state--either trying to hide it, live through it, or treat it--that my physical wellness has taken a back seat. That's not good for me any more than living with an untreated mental illness. So, before I get to some sort of physical crisis, I am going to see if I can find a balance to my physical and mental health so that I can live into old age with good health. 

I will continue to share my story, if only to honestly portray what one person's experience is like, if it helps someone else. 

Imagery

I find imagery to be more powerful than other forces at times. It comes to me when words won't do, and here I am trying to use words to explain the imagery. Silly me. Maybe imagery shouldn't be dissected and explained and analyzed. Maybe it should simply be felt.

Still, words are my currency, so that's what I do.

There's been a lot of imagery in my dream life lately. And I had wanted to write about the imagery of the cairn, which has become a symbol of my entire life. I don't know where to focus. So I'll start with the cairn.

For those who need a refresher, the night I learned of my dad's death, I was at a writing retreat and we did a guided meditation to build a cairn. It was full of emotion and power for me, and I used that in my talk at my dad's memorial.

The base of the cairn in my meditation was a large granite rock, rounded and eroded from eons of time. Granite symbolizes strength, abundance, and balance. A great foundation for the entire tower, for the entirety of life, for almost everything. There is strength is something as simple as breath and as motionless as a rock. There is strength in the roaring of water and the creation of a star. Abundance to many means material abundance, lots of stuff and money. I am fortunate to have material abundance--at least enough for me and many others. I find abundance to be far more than mere stuff, though. It can mean knowledge, memories, gratitude, love. I think of abundance as a positive word. Balance is the third essence of granite. Balance feels safe. Centered. In tune with the world. At rest, at peace. When I think of strength, abundance, and balance, it reminds me of mountain pose in yoga, which is also foundational.

Now I'll mention the imagery of my recent dreams. One dream indicated a person on a gurney being rolled into an operating theater. The next one was just the image of a drill, such as one you might use to drill a hole in a wall. This one had a huge drill bit. And the third dream was kind of scary. It was a dream of myself dying, knowing it was coming, trying to hold on to life, and then the moment of death itself, everything simply stopped and turned dark. But consciousness was still there. In the dream, I thought, "so this is the afterlife? okay."

Dream imagery is something I love to delve into. You all know it's metaphor, right? I'm not actually dying (well, in a way, we all are dying, but I digress). These three dreams all deal with themes of leaving behind the past in some fashion, ready to start a new phase, drilling down deep, removing old patterns and ways. It's actually really positive stuff, even though the imagery in the dreams is sort of scary. But is it positive? Change is big, it's scary, it's not always something we hope for. Change can be marriage, birth, new jobs, new friends, new work. It can also mean endings, death, things being ripped apart. Change is often uncomfortable, even painful. Even good change.

So this is where strength, abundance, and balance come in. Whatever change, death/rebirth, removal of past patterns or habits, and drilling down that is coming my way, I face it with the foundation of strength, abundance, and balance.