The Glums

"Kites rise highest against the wind, not with it." -- Winston Churchill
(British Orator, Author, Prime Minister during World War II and depression sufferer)

I was first officially diagnosed with clinical depression in 1999. That was the year I collapsed, after which I was off work for about 16 months.

16 months. Even as I type that I feel myself choking up and the reasons are varied and intertwined. For 16 months, I battled my way back to normal life.

I've been thinking a lot about depression lately because one: I'm working through another bought of it and two: I've reading a phenomenal book called Undoing Perpetual Stress: The Missing Connection Between Depression, Anxiety and 21st Century Illness. The book is by Richard O'Connor, the author of Undoing Depression.

I've always considered Undoing Depression a bible of sorts. I always keep it handy because when I feel "the glums" coming on, it's just the kick in the ass I need. O'Connor is not only a therapist, he's also a depression sufferer and the premise of this fascinating book is that depressives "get good" at being depressed. So insidious is this disease's ability to change your perception of the world, that as a depressive, you engage in the very habits, activities and modes of thinking that will perpetuate your depression.

Working my way through this experience, I've learned a lot of things. I think this is because part of my way of coping with my depression is to take an observational view of myself. I developed this ability pretty quickly. As a fat kid with a connotative last name, I learned to sort of float in the ether and not include myself in my experience of the world. I don't know if that makes sense, but it is the best way I can articulate it. I think it contributes a great deal to my writing, because I can see things or go through things, but when necessary, fundamentally disengage. Sometimes this is good, sometimes it's bad. As Ray Charles said, "It just do what it do baby."

So it is this disengagement that now serves as my radar. I can feel and see myself getting, being and acting depressed and can try my best to avert it. This resulted in a serendipitous moment the other day.

Since I've started my new job, I've been feeling disenchanted. I realized that this is because I expected this job to provide relief, to result in a serious crankdown of my life's bullsh*t valve as it were.

Instead, I'm still wired. All the time. It's like there's a switch is in my head constantly in the "ON" position. I startle easily. I wake up at three or four in the morning feeling incredibly alone and scared and incapable. My brain is in a fog, which makes work hard right now.

So last week on my vacation, when by Wednesday I was only feeling slightly relaxed I thought to myself " I need a book. I need something. I need to find a way to turn the switch to "OFF". I ventured out to Chapters by Sherway Gardens. I wandered around for a bit, enjoying the sight of the new books that were in and meandered my way to the health section. It was in the depression section that O'Connor's book jumped out at me. As soon as I saw the words "by the author of Undoing Depression", I knew I was buying it. I had my "OFF" switch.

He has some interesting things to say, like:

1. We live in a society that is inherently stressful and it's stress we're not physically developed to accommodate for sustained periods. Our source of community and sprituality and purpose have been radically broken down by two centuries of social change. We are in an historically unique period that tells us that consuming will make us feel good and that we should feel good all the time. We feel unfulfilled because we are. Couple this with the usual suspects of dysfunctional families, abusive experiences, or a run of bad luck, and your ability to cope is massively decreased.
   
   
2. It is now observable that the brain is physically changed by depression. It is also observable that a depressive brain can be "rewired" when a patient engages in a course of treatment.
   
   
3. Low serotonin levels do whacky things to a body and the symptoms are real. (Yes! Fact! It's not in my imagination when chocolate covered almonds make me feel calm. The sugar and protein have an affect. It's no excuse I know, but still!)
   

O'Connor also makes the point that anti-depressants alone cannot cure depression. They can be immensely helpful, but depressives need to change their behavior too.

I could go on longer than I already have about this book, it's fascinating examination of brain development, the impact of childhood, the experience of depression, etc.

But what this book has given me, only half way through, is a sense that despite my setbacks, despite how truly awful this disease can make me feel, I can recover. Fully. It has taken my observational status up a notch. I am now the Zesty Warrior Princess of my own pysche.

For example. On Monday I came home for lunch. It was my first day back at work after my vacation and I was on codeine because menstrual cramps were lacing through me. I took out the haddock fillets from the freezer and put them in a dish. Then I put on laundry. Then I surfed the net a little bit and read some more of O'Connor's book while my fish was cooking.

Or so I thought. I had put the fish in the dish and turned on the oven, however, I'd missed the key step of actually putting the fish IN the oven. So I'd lost 20 minutes of my lunch hour. I was furious at myself and immediately unleashed my wrath. My internal dialogue went something like this. "You idiot! You're so stupid! Now you're going to be late!"

But where this book helped me is in becoming more mindful of my feelings. Because right after my 'episode' it occurred to me that I wouldn't talk this way to someone else. Why the hell was I talking to myself this way? As a result, I was able to talk back to my depressive meanie for the first time. And thus, my inner Shaniqua was unleashed.

"Girl," she said "you best get yoself togethah. You got cramps, you're on codeine, and you're just back to work after a vacation. Now y'all get that fish's ass in the oven and stop being so damn hard on your blessed self."

It's a start and I'm trying. I need to get by just getting by. I need my life and dreams and a sense of progress back. I need to really register and feel the many blessings in my life. I'm just chasing sunshine right now, but that's ok.

I don't know what my next step is. I'm working on the exercises in the book. I may go on anti-depressants again. I may not. I want to try some supplements first and increase my exercise level. I'm going to make myself go out more.

But I know this: I am no longer in the business of reporting my own feelings to myself, continually sending dispatches of despair and brief notations of half felt joys.

Like I said. I'm trying.