You Don't Say

Suicide. It's a shocking, frightening word. Say it and you will catch your listeners' attention, but not in a good way. Say it and you might lose something you value.

Suicide. My brother committed it and I seriously considered it as recently as last month. But even when writing about it or talking about it, I tend to use other words and phrases: end my life; took his own life; hurt myself; stop living. Even in the psych ward, the professionals would say "do you want to hurt/injure yourself or others?" Suicide is a bit beyond 'hurt/injure', don't you think?

Depression. This one is slightly okay. I can say "I was so depressed I couldn't stop crying" and that's non-threatening. Adding "I was looking for ways to kill myself" filters my listeners and readers: some immediately want to call me and make sure I'm alright and get together with me. They want to talk to me and listen to me talk and tell them how I got that depressed, how I'm going to keep from getting that depressed, and I'd damn-well better call them if I feel that depressed again. And let's go have lunch next week.

The other people freak out. I lost a freelance gig I loved (but it was beyond my abilities), the present opportunity to even work for them for free, and the trust of the friend who was also my supervisor (plus, I think he really freaked out); and I may have lost a second gig and friend; she hasn't written back so I don't know yet. But the lack of response doesn't look good. I really love that gig, too.

So unless you want to separate the wheat from the chaff in your life in a quick and unflinching manner, say 'depressed' but don't say 'suicide' or any euphemism for it. It's bad enough to be sad in our culture; contemplating ending your life is possibly the most offensive and disturbing thought you can introduce to some people. I suppose it should be disturbing, but telling someone "I thought of killing myself" shouldn't be a reason to be cast aside. Imagine — if enough people did that, a sad and suffering person could end up feeling all his pain was valid, and he could go ahead and end his life, commit his suicide, feeling he had made the right choice. Think about it. 

(Not me. I now have enough people threatening me with bodily and spiritual harm if I so much as seriously consider this unspeakable act. I have no desire to fail if I tried it, but even worse would be succeeding and spending several eternities being punished by the spirits of my friends and family!)

This. Day. SUCKS!!!

Taxes

There should be a hardship extension where you can just ask for the extension and get no penalties for not paying money. I don't have all my information; it turns out what I have is mostly Mom's. I'm not sure how to get some of mine. The H&R Block people didn't get back to me to answer the question of what happens if I just don't file yet. The other, highly recommended accountant I called didn't offer me anything more than that they can't help me because it's too late and they are busy. Fine. I'm in trouble either way.

I feel completely incompetent because I haven't handled my taxes in a timely manner.

Medication & Insurance

Insurance didn't pay for one of my new medications and I don't know why. I didn't buy it because it was $255.

I need to find out how much of my deductible I paid last year, and how much I've paid so far this year; I may find it best to double the deductible and decrease the monthly payment.

I feel incompetent because I don't know how to figure out the math to determine the best course of action regarding deductibles and monthly payments. I feel overwhelmed because there seems to be so much to do.

Anxiety through the roof

Interestingly, my anxiety was very high today. How odd. ::insert sarcasm emoticon here:: I took my new drug, which I prefer to the previous one for the over-the-top anxiety. I spent some time on Twitter and Facebook and IM chat with friends and had a very good time. However, I can feel the edges of feeling manic.* I can feel this kind of electric fizz zipping up and down my edges. There is a rushing in my ears as if I've been inside a rock concert or taken too much aspirin. I feel both hyper and exhausted. Kind of getting slugged in the gut by a bolt of lightning.

My anxiety also provides me with an added benefit of paranoia, the kind where I feel left out. On purpose. (There's this story from when I was in 4th grade, but I won't tell it right now.) I know the online community I'm part of is full of people making friends in their own ways and at their own rates. I just feel ... slow. Inadequate. I have one full-blown friendship, and another two that are growing. But the other people know all kinds of stuff about each other that I don't. About lots of the others. 

These factors bring me back to my feeling that I am broken or missing some important psycho-social developmental step.

Additionally, my PTSD is having a good time. Hypervigilance is not my friend. I cannot relax completely. I see things out of the corners of my eyes. When I'm in the shower I think I hear someone at the door, or I fear someone important will come to the door or that I will miss an important phone call. And I fear bugs, because I'm not tossing all food wrappers every night and I'm not putting my dishes into the dishwasher every night. When my therapist asked me if I startle easily, I laughed.

Solitude

Since my best friend in Houston had a cardiac arrest this fall and decided to redevote himself to his marriage in his usual laser-focused manner, I never see him anymore and talk to him seldom or only in five-minute chunks. He's been too busy for lunch or for the occasional wandering off or even a walk in the park.

My two girlfriends locally have become too busy to even return email much. One of them I have not seen in months.

My best girlfriends far away don't call and seldom write, unless I initiate. They were like that when I lived near them; I don't know what made me think they would change. They love to see me when I'm there, but they don't think of me much in between. And Facebook really isn't a forum that encourages actual emotional intimacy.

Therefore, I'm developing some online friends, but expecting them to fill much of my need for emotional intimacy, especially given my extreme needs and intensity, is unreasonable.

I'm feeling ridiculous because my feelings are childish. I'm feeling incompetent at making friends and at being an adult.

Other than the online conversation I had, it's been a shitty day. 

* I am not manic depressive, but part of my lovely brain and mind is that I do get periods of what psychotherapists and psychiatrists call "hypomania," meaning that manic feelings and behavior that are not the bipolar I kind. They are lesser: I won't go out and spend $10,000 on a shopping spree, but I might spend $300-400. Or behave over the top. Or drink. Or just be excessively hyper and talkative.

Big love, bright life

Today I was drenched in prayers and good wishes from many friends in my extended community and now I feel light and shiny. 

How different from just a day or two ago!

I still have my depression and anxiety, but today I am feeling noticeably lifted above them. It feels good. Between good therapy and an amazing response from these friends, yes, it's a good day. This good day feeling directly recalls yesterday's post about the feel-good brain chemicals produced in women's conversations.

Along with the light and shiny feelings comes exhaustion. I conjecture this exhaustion comes from the emotional outpouring I made, and the emotional inpouring I received. How amazing the power that can be transmitted via email and cell phone!

One message that friends told me and told me was that Depression Lies.This message aligns with what Karen and I discussed in our session today. She said that whether or not I have some social developmental problem doesn't matter. The fact that I believe I do makes me act as if I do: I feel awkward in social situations, I don't know how to make small talk, I feel clueless and am tense, sure that I'll say or do something foolish or stupid (and in the past, I often have). Belief can create reality. (Julie, no crowing!)

Thus, I have another task, trying to change my belief and hoping it changes my behavior and thinking. I'll put it on the list.

I'll leave off some of the other things we talked about in today's session, because I don't want to bring down the tone of this post. 

I feel good. I feel a remembrance of when I was an optimist and rather bouncy. I can't wait until I get my new med — it may take me back to that place where I feel confident and calm. I'll hold onto today's light and shiny feeling for as long as I can, and I'll come back to this post to remind myself, when the dark days come, as they will do as I continue my therapeutic journey.

Thank you, my friends, for everything.

Signed,

Tinkerbell

Feel-good chemicals in the brain

Today a friend told me that women develop "feel-good" chemicals in their brains when they have long talks with friends. Given that I'd already had two long talks prior to electronically "talking" with her, and that I was feeling better, I'm predisposed to believe her to some extent. (I'd like the citation, though.) Then I spent quite some time online with her; anecdotally, I have to say that online talking provides feel-good chemicals as well.

If this information is correct, it would explain why many women enjoy talking for hours with their friends, especially their female friends: they are all getting the same happy drugs in their heads. 

I remember spending about four hours one evening last spring talking with a couple of girlfriends outside a restaurant. The restaurant was the kind that you order at the counter, then sit where you want. No waitstaff. It was a weeknight and the place wasn't crowded, so we sat at a table outside in the warmth and talked. The first friend had to leave about half an hour after friend #2 arrived; friend #2 stayed for nearly 3 hours ... until 9:30. We talked about many different things, most of which I don't remember now because they weren't long-term-memory topics; the important thing was the talking. The bonding. Feeling terrific.

The majority of my conversations and contacts currently are online. I do talk on the phone to one friend about every other weekend or so, but we'll talk for two hours. I talk on the phone to my BFF off and on; sometimes we'll talk every day, sometimes two weeks can go by and all we'll exchange is a few texts and some quick emails. My best girlfriends from way back don't call and they don't write, but if I come to town they seem happy to see me and spend time with me. I don't understand that, but I am rather clueless about many intersocial things. (Karen the therapist and I think it's due to my missing out on some important developments at key stages in my early years.)

I would love to add more friend conversations to help with both my brain chemicals and my social development. Given the recent boom in online-friend-making that I've come into, more long talks with friends may be a possibility. I'd much rather talk than take more medications. Good conversation seldom leaves me feeling drugged or hungover.

I don't think it's worth asking what gives men feel-good chemicals in their brains.

Note: Oftentimes, writing a coherent piece — be it blog post, non-fiction, or fiction — takes time and many revisions to make the piece logical and flowing. Sometimes — this time — the piece writes itself and requires very little editing or revision. Of course, maybe I'm seeing it that way due to the medications ....