It's a horrible, horrible thing to say. I know. But I said it. Last night was a bad night, and I didn't want to feel anymore. I didn't want to be me anymore. It was a stupid thing to say and an unrealistic thing to say which is probably why I said it. I couldn't say, "I should be back on pills," because the hubster could've taken my word for it and started that ball rolling again!
I felt horrible last night, but it makes me feel ashamed saying something like "I should be lobotomized" when such a procedure ruined the lives of many other people. Sure, I have my problems but there are a lot of people out there that have bigger problems.
Not to say any of us and our problems matter any less than someone else's, but it's important to realize that we're not alone. Sure, there are people that have it worse than me, but there are also people that have it better than me and compassion is a chain woven through us all. Compassion from others, compassion for ourselves, compassion for others.
I often neglect the first two forms of compassion. I assume people think the worst of me and don't care about me and I often don't behave kindly toward myself. After a while those negative thoughts sort of numb me out. As much as I try to care for others, I just can't. The landscape of life becomes very barren and loses meaning.
ANYWAYS.
Why was last night so horrible?
Last night started heading downhill when the hubby cued up a documentary about K2. As amazing as stories about climbing that mountain are, they mostly just depress me. I hear "K2" anything and feel my hackles rise, preparing for the inevitable downer and ensuing depressive state. Sherpas risking their lives just to support their families any way they can, adrenaline junkies putting their lives on the line and leaving their families behind, and people dropping like flies in a seemingly serene, fantastically beautiful scene all leading me to the questions, "What is life worth?!"
It's all about perspective. I can understand the sentiment that we have one life to live and you should live it to the fullest. Die climbing a massive dangerous peak, having your life snuffed out before you can exhale your last breath? Life well-lived (to some). But I find myself drawn to a more serene place, a life lived with family and children, a quiet death leaving behind recipes, stories, and memories with loved ones. Both are very different, but both have meaning.
But through the eyes of depression neither of those philosophies hold water. A dark extrapolation leads my mind to the conclusion that life has no meaning, no matter what you do throughout your life nothing really matters. I begin to feel trapped. Stuck in a living form forced to contemplate questions with no answer and wallow in the turmoil of failure for the rest of my pointless existence.
This is what happens when I am triggered. And this is why we've put "K2" on a list of "Banned Input For Hannah." Yes. I've banned an entire mountain.
Readers already know that financial matters are another trigger for me as is failure in almost any degree as my mind likens it to being unlovable and worthless. The hubster and I are also working on media input in light of recent bouts of... hmm, not quite paranoia but living dreams where my body has an anxiety reaction and I imagine acts of violence occurring in my day-to-day life. It's troublesome and disturbing, let me tell you!
A couple weeks ago I began breathing deeply while the hubby and I were driving around doing errands and when he asked what was wrong I had to explain that I had imagined snipers were on top of buildings and bullets were tearing into our car, shattering windows, and ripping us apart. I know I have a vivid imagination, but this little scene took things a step further and caused me distress, much like a nightmare instead of just a bad dream. These episodes take many shapes but generally peak with violent media input and cause me a general sense of unease, anxiety, and feeling unsafe.
So we are working on these things. Last night was bad, but today will get better and we'll keep pushing forward!
And the hubster promised me he won't go climb K2 and die.
Well, as a fellow depressive I think you are being very hard on yourself. This is an illness of peaks and valleys and very deep valleys. And very, very deep valleys. I know how awful the valley is. We can't add insult to that deep dark place. Yes, we say and think things that are off but it is just an expression of a feeling at the moment, not necessarily truth.
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