Tag Archives: depression

What to Do When the Cloud Lifts

One fact about depressed people, we usually don’t have many or any hobbies or interests.  Just getting out of bed and completing the basic chores to sustain life can be overwhelming and exhausting, if not impossible.   There is no desire to get together with friends or take on any other activities.  If a moment of clarity and energy does come, we must force ourselves to use it to wash the pile of dishes that has been building up for days or weeks and scrub the toilet before it grows legs and walks out on its own.

What then if the cloud lifts for a period that extends beyond the time it takes us to recover our houses, shop for groceries and, for women, to shave our legs for the first time in months?  We don’t know what to do with ourselves.  I, during these times, often become absorbed in and even obsessed with various activities or buying sprees of a particular item, but when my fascination soon wanes, I crawl back under my covers never to return to those same interests.  I remember Webkins with shame–so much time, energy and mostly dollars down the drain.  My most recent obsession, Teavana, I am over it for months now.  I’ll never drink all the tea I purchased or use all the teapots and accessories.  So much time and money I waste on following temporary impulses when my head decides to feel clear for awhile.

Today, I struggle and ask myself, “What if my current medication trial becomes a long-term success?”   I don’t know what to do with a clear head or even how to recognize it and manage it for an extended period of time.  I certainly cannot afford a series of obsessions and impulse buying.  I want to know for the long haul who I am and what I like to do in my spare time.

Except for a few dishes in the sink, my house is essentially clean, and I have four hours before I must get ready for work.  My normal routine would be to sleep the entire morning away, but I’m not tired.  I don’t feel particularly happy, but I don’t feel sad either.  Is this how normal people feel.  I’m awake and I just don’t know what to do about it!

Yellow Hibiscus


Here’s to a Clear Head

My son, J, is sound asleep in bed and I’m bored.  I’ve cleaned the front of the house and am now ready to make some noise in the back, but I can’t.  Normally, I would be delighted to hide and quietly sleep my day away, but today for some reason, I’m wide awake, clearheaded and ready to act alive.  What’s up with that?

I’ve been on a downer for some months now, barely able to keep myself afloat to work, eat and sleep.  This week during my vacation, I dragged myself through some long-overdue shopping, cooking and cleaning.  All of this was more my dear mother’s accomplishment than mine due to the fact that she spent much time at my side helping, cheering me on and giving me a push when I got sluggish.  Rather than taking this time to frolic, play and rest, I needed a vacation to catch up with life–to complete chores that had been building up for many months while I slept through all my days off.

Yesterday, I sent a desperate plea to my precious doctor.   During my past several appointments, I’ve whined about a generalized depression, but unsure if the clouds in my head were situational or chemical the doc has been hesitant to hand out more pills.   Just lately, however, my brain has felt raging and restless.  I haven’t been able to sleep but I haven’t wanted to do anything either.  Miserable.  Long story short, I added a new drug to my regimen, started the first dose last night.

Volatile as my moods can be, I’m always hesitant to ascribe benefits to a new drug until I ride it out for a few months.  Nonetheless, I’m in a good mood today.  I have energy and I want to use it.  Get up, son, get up! I want to play!

Just now feeling sorry for myself and wishing somebody would give half a shit when I am depressed.  I realize that self-pity doesn’t fix anything, but sometimes it’s inevitable when everything seems to be going to the crapper!  Sometimes I just cry out to God, “Why, why, why?”  I ask Him could I just see a little something good to help me lift myself up and carry on.  Right now, I’m waiting for that little something good.

The Adoption Option

I grew up with a mother who loved having company and always had open arms to adopt the needy or the orphaned.  Our home at holidays, and really any time, was open to friends and often to complete strangers who did not have family with whom to spend the days.  There was (and still is) always room for one or two more at Mom’s table, and so I took advantage of the extra space this past Easter and invited M., my new friend from a previous post.

With the exception of street corner panhandlers (okay, and yes, even them), my heart breaks for people in need, especially if they are experiencing a pain or need that I have felt in my own life, a trait I likely inherited from my dear mother.  Throughout my life, I have oft passed a few bucks–and once my last $20–to a stranger in need, or purchased a pack of ciggies for a bum who was digging through the dirty ashtray for butts.  I am at my best when I transfer focus from the cares and insanity of my own life to someone else whose struggles may be worse than mine.   Helping others makes me happy! Continue reading The Adoption Option

Holiday Shmoliday

So, it’s Easter.  I was looking forward to dinner and visiting with my family–Mom, Dad and son.  I don’t know what his problem is today, but he’s pissed off at the world and cranky and last minute backing out.  Typical of my volatile son this is, but still I am saddened and concerned and frustrated.  Why is it that holidays seem to always bring out the “best” in people?

Unexpected Friends

Many times over the years I have angrily shouted at God, “Why me?” and, just as it did last night, the answer always comes from a most unlikely source at a completely unexpected time.

At work, I am the supervisor of approximately 15 associates. Relative peace reigns most of the time, but occasionally an associate comes along that puts me to the test both personally and professionally.  About three months ago, a college student whom I’ll call M. began working in my department, and from the start I had a sense that he would test me or push me to the limit in some way.  My instinct was not wrong.

A month into M.’s time at the store, I was called into the Store Manager’s office.  M. had made allegations that I was targeting him and that he was being discriminated against because of his religious beliefs.  I was shocked and not shocked at the same time, because several days prior when I had asked him into the office for a discussion, he had bluntly asked me if I wanted him gone and told me that another associate (a known drama causer) had placed this idea in his head.

Fortunately, I have worked with my Store Manager for 5 years.  She knows that I care about my associates and would not purposely single out one and torture him.  Still, she did share with me that I should work on tailoring my approach to individual associates’ personalities and needs.  I took her advice to heart and promised to be more careful of my interactions in the future.  Because M. felt uncomfortable with the idea of a mediated discussion with the two of us present, the Store Manager asked me to give her in writing my responses to his allegations so that she could present them to him in an effort to resolve the situation.  Following her second discussion with M., she gave no report to me leading me to conclude that all was settled, but I was cautious and sensitive to his concerns when speaking to him after that.

A month passed, and one day M. failed to show up for work without calling to inform us.  I called his cell phone but was immediately transferred to voice mail.  A few days later, I received an e-mail that he had applied for leave due to a serious illness, and the Store Manager informed me he was in the hospital.

When M. returned to work after about a week, he was pale and shaky.  I expressed concern and asked how he was feeling.  I sympathized with him that it must have been difficult being so ill and with no family around.  M.’s home is a state away.  He is in town to attend the University.  Respecting his privacy, I did not ask M. why he had been in the hospital and he did not offer that information…until the following night.

As I was passing by inspecting the floor that night at clean-up time, I asked M. to make sure the lower shelves of the tables were recovered.  He immediately doubled over appearing to be in pain, reminded me that he had just been in the hospital, and told me that he could not bend.  Feeling like an idiot, I quickly apologized and asked the other associate to get the bottoms.  M. then busted out in peels of laughter and said, “Gotcha!”  He could bend, and he would get the bottom shelves.  Relieved, I laughingly scolded him and went about my business.

Later that night, when I approached the area where M. was working, he asked me if I would like to know why he had been in the hospital.  I responded that I hadn’t asked because it was his private business, but that he could tell me if he wanted to.  Wide-eyed, I listened as he shared that he had gone to the Emergency Room because his anxiety had gotten out of control–he told me he suffers from depression and anxiety–and they had transferred him to a mental facility where he had been basically locked up and unable to call anyone.  I almost cried for him right there.  How frightening, and such an unwarranted abuse of control over someone who was in a fragile state.  We talked some more, and I shared with him that I was well acquainted with mental health issues–myself and several members of my family.  We said we’d have lunch sometime and share horror stories.

That evening, I could not let go and stop thinking about this young man’s plight.  I determined to let him know that I would be there for him if he ever needed help again so that he would not be forced to turn to a system that has no understanding of mental illness and only fears it.  The next day at work, as I dug through my purse for one of my business cards to give to M., I silently thanked God that because of my suffering I am able to understand and help others who are hurting.  I told M. to use my number any time of the day or night, and he in great appreciation responded that I could not possibly know how much it meant to him.  He said, “I have no one here.”

“D” is for Depression…and other stuff

It is now the eve of day nine of what has so far been the happiest, most restful and yet productive vacation I have experienced in a long time, maybe ever.  And what’s this?  Someone or something wants to rob me of my joy!  The clouds roll in and I can feel the darkness.  My bed calls me, and I fear sleep may be my only escape.   A brief nap and I’m awake again, out of bed and fighting for my life.  Seriously, can’t I have just one more day or two or three without the clouds and without the fight.  It has been so peaceful.

Ironically, I had lunch with a girlfriend this week who I hadn’t seen in years, and she confided in me that she is depressed all the time, that she just sits for hours and stares at the wall.  She shared that she hates leaving her home and had almost cancelled our lunch date.  As I I responded that I was so glad she had decided to come and that I understood and also struggled daily with depression, I reflected in the back of my mind on what a joyful, wonderful week I had been having, wondered at the fact, and silently thanked my Heavenly Father.  Conversing with my friend was a mixed blessing–nice to have someone to share experience with but not wishing my own experience on anyone, and hoping against all hope that I was on the permanent upswing.