Wednesday Already?!

Fourth of July BBQ at my parents went over pretty well. The fiance and I played a lot of volleyball and had some good food (my pies went over smashingly) and he had his fair share of beer. Let's just say about halfway home he slumped over like a ragdoll and snoozed hardcore from there on out.

The BBQ didn't seem stressful but when we got home that night and all through yesterday I felt really wore out. Last night I woke up in a panic and anxiety-ridden about getting back into therapy.

It's been over a week now since I submitted my request for an initial appointment and the clinic hasn't called me back. I'm really frustrated and discouraged by the time it takes to find a counselor/psychiatrist that uses a sliding scale for fees or will take clients without insurance or Medicaid.

One clinic said they couldn't help me if I didn't have insurance, I'd have to get on Medicaid first. Other clinics simply said "We can't help you" or quoted me their going rate and waited for me to dismiss myself from the call. How supportive and encouraging of them, it's not like they work with suicidal people who already have feelings of hopelessness or anything. *barf*

Not only is this struggle to find help frustrating, it's complicating my illness. Every time I feel rejected by a clinic I shirk back into a cloud of shame and my depression grows. I feel isolated and helpless-if these clinics/doctors/offices that are supposed to help me just send me packing, where am I supposed to go? I don't want to check into an inpatient facility-I'm trying to utilize other resources, I don't want to take up that spot when someone else may need it more and it's a scary prospect and a giant leap as far as treatment goes.

If you've ever suffered a major depressive episode you know how paralyzing it is. Just taking care of yourself or doing minor household chores is a major effort-let alone researching and calling facilities for help. If I'm not mustering up the energy and courage to talk to someone I'm battling waves of anxiety concerning rejection or finances. Then to be "rejected" on top of that-it's crushing.

I'm trying to control my depressive logic (the poisonous kind that doesn't make logical sense unless you're suicidal) that leads me down a dark road each time my quest for help hits a bump in the road. "These places are meant to help, but I don't qualify-no money, no insurance, no aid, no care. So that must mean I don't matter. I'm not contributing to society, why would they want to help me? Maybe they want me to go off and die."

Of course, whenever I become suicidal I'm bombarded by feelings of shame and guilt regarding leaving my loved ones with so much pain and more emotional burden than I put upon them now and the throbbing headaches and cycles of self-hatred, shame, and disgust crank into gear. Sad how such a dark place can be so familiar? Sometimes I think I know the ins-and-outs of my sadness better than any happiness.

I've put a lot of pressure on myself to conquer my depression once again. Regain the health that I've lost, get a job, do my chores, take care of myself and all that pressure and self-deprecating compounds the problem. My fiance gave me some good advice last night when I was describing my angst (I want to be better but my body/mind/healthcare won't let me get there) and he said this,

"It's like you're trying to sail a boat before you know how to swim. You've got to concentrate on one stroke at a time, not the 90-million other things that you want to do or think you need to do. Just slow down, and be in the now. We're conditioned to want change NOW, but it takes a long time."

"Ship in Full Sail" Darryl Trezise

It was the perfect thing to say and I cried a little bit. I've never conquered a relapse overnight, and I probably never will. I'm so glad that he understands that it's an illness I'm trying to fight but my weapons are blunted. Even with his support and understanding I feel guilty for "burdening" him and at times I'm terrified that he'll forget who I really am and leave because of this depressed-Hannah.

Right now, it's day-by-day. All I can do is get out of bed, try to stop the broken record in my head, and try to find help. I've got to learn to swim again and most importantly-not drown in the process!

A New Month, A New Post

July is here and it got here really really fast.

This time last year I was preparing for a solo two-week trip to Iceland and in pretty high spirits. Ah-what a year it has been.

That January I had gotten myself to a new counselor that proved to be an amazing asset and improvement to my life. I consulted with a doctor and began taking my second antidepressant medication ever (after my then-boyfriend had convinced me to leave counseling and stop my previous medication that summer before).

I filed for FMLA to reduce my work hours without affecting my insurance and was able to improve my quality of life but still struggled with intense anxiety and lack of energy. I had been living apart from my then-boyfriend, and after moving completely out of his rental-I broke off the relationship. Eventually, I quit my job at the bank (and left behind a terrible manager but also some good friends) and decided to take a couple months and live off my savings.

Looking back on that tumultuous spring of 2010, I did a pretty drastic job of changing my situation. I went back to a counselor and gained perspective on a hazardous relationship with my partner as well as an unhealthy work environment. I actively recouped myself and left behind a negative environment to pursue a healthier lifestyle.

By late May I was rejuvenated enough to consider dating again and I joined eHarmony. In June I booked my plane tickets and made hotel reservations for a week in Reykjavik (Hotel Odinsve is awesome-and Joana is the BEST) and left a week unplanned and TBD once I landed in Iceland.

The two weeks I spent in Iceland were awe-inspiring, relaxing, invigorating, oddly reassuring, and empowering. I wasn't the only solo female traveling Iceland, but to this day I still get perked eyebrows and stares when I say I went alone. I have no regrets, in fact-I wouldn't have had it any other way.

Iceland was my cry of freedom. My assertion that I could and would survive and that I didn't have to live in a cold, lonely world like I had seen before. Only a few months before grocery shopping at the local Freddie's was a chore dripping with social anxieties and physical exhaustion; Iceland was my personal playground and pride parade, the celebration at turning over a new leaf.

Shortly after I returned I was matched with my now fiance who proves to me again and again everyday the depth of his caring and love for me and reassures me that a good life is always an option.

I have been over some bumps this past year and the time has come again to reroute the dark tides in my mind.

Since last July and returning from Iceland I have struggling financially, leaned on family and friends, worked for another bank, quit another banking job, moved, and sought counseling again-and even become engaged to  the best surprise of my life.

I miss the joy and freedom I had last July, but I also know that those rewards are mine to reap and the path to success lies before me, waiting to be walked on and beat into submission. And that is how I see it, a battle or at least some intense farming (which some would call a battle).

A Field of Flowers - Danial Ridgway Knight

Happiness and health rarely comes easily and certainly not without effort. Especially as someone with a family history of clinical depression I have to work and nurture happiness in my life. I have to cultivate an environment of care and concern for myself and others and push patterns of health into my life-and I do mean PUSH.

I've never been a very physically active person. This probably stems from the fact that my skills are based in stationary realms-academics, writing, art-and a long history of negative self-image. It seems silly to say, but I recall enjoying physical activity more before my family's trip to KY (Army family orders) and I think that move marked a shift in my life.

Moving to a new school scared the shit of me. Or should I say piss? My first day at school in 2nd grade I followed my regular routine from the school in Washington. This resulted in leaving the lunchroom on my own to go to recess (I must've assumed this was the expectation) and locking myself out of the building.

After realizing I was alone, outside, and had no idea where the restroom was I began flanking the building looking for a restroom or unlocked door to get back inside. No such luck. I ended up pissing my pants and hiding it under a sweatshirt tied around my waste for the rest of the day after I found the front office doors and my mother was unable to pick me up.

I'd always been an introvert and more reserved than my siblings, but since KY I've become "the quiet one" and I blossomed into the role of shy girl-nerd through grade school. I wasn't just the shy one at school, I was the weak impala of the family. I'm the only family member not endowed with natural athleticism and have struggled with my weight since grade school.

Combine my "shortcomings," feelings of isolation, and sense of lacking with a predisposition for depression and it's no wonder I had a run in with self harm when I was sixteen. Since then I have been battling waves of depression and years of negative thought patterns with the label of DEPRESSED ONE at the forefront of my thoughts.

I still struggle with feelings of inadequacy and shame. Shame over my weight, my lack of athleticism, my depression-it's a big ole ugly circle of nasty!

Yes. I have a chronic disease and it's called depression. It's not always easy to see, I don't need crutches or a wheelchair and I can look just like a "normal" gal-but it alters me from the inside out. There is no cure and medicine can only do so much. If I don't fight, there is no hope. If I don't fight from the inside-out, there is no healing just suppression.

So this July, I'm a little down. But I'm still fighting and I know that there will be other Iceland's in my future and even in the face of my relapse, I will celebrate the independence I have gained and all the good in my life.

And goshdarnit, I'm gonna eat some pie while I'm at it! Happy Independence Day weekend everyone-whatever that mean to you in addition to what it means to our nation. :o)