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  • How I Cope-A Depression Story

    How I Cope-A Depression Story

    So I’ve been writing posts for while about my struggles with depression. How do I cope? Well, here are the things that enable me to hold on. Now, I am NOT SAYING that these would help anyone else, though I think they are probably not hurtful things in general. But they are my things.

    First and foremost, the presence of Miss P in my life has made a HUGE difference. She is my whippet, in case you’re late to my blog. She is not an trained service dog or an emotional support animal, yet she serves both these capacities. She has shown an ability to alert me to seizures before they happen and stays with me afterwards. She is, of course, enormously comforting during bouts of depression and anxiety.  Despite this, I am still NOT going to slap a vest on her and claim her to be a service dog. This would be doing a disservice to her (she dislikes crowds and people she doesn’t know) and trained service animals.  I am very firm on this, and I will most likely be NEEDING one in the future.

    Another coping mechanism, and one I employ often, is listening to music. I’m listening to Eminem as I write this blog. I mention this even before exercise or meditation, because I can turn to this even when I am too ill to move. I am noted among my friends and acqaintances for the wide range of my musical tastes. On any given day, I can range from Baroque to Reggae to Americana to Hip-hop. My older friends (and those of my own generation) despair of me b/c I’m most often these days listening to hip-hop and rap. OF course, sometimes with me, it’s CHINESE or INDIAN hip-hip artists, b/c I just can’t stick to good old ordinary American anything…..Lol. But later this week I’m being interviewed on a radio show to talk for 30 minutes about music. That someone thinks my opinions are that worthwhile is sorta amazing. I had to send Richard two different playlists-one for HIM, and another “gentler, kinder playlist” for the airwaves. Apparently some of what I listen to is NSFW and too RADICAL for college students to hear! Like, seriously?

    Me being me, I gotta mention READING. My reading challenge this year is 225 books. I’ve read 106 books so far this year. I’m 3 books ahead of schedule. I’ve got three books going right now: No-one Cares About Crazy People (Ron Powers); Cemetery Road (Greg Illes); Waking Up White (Debby Irving). As you can see, I’m not reading light. I read across genres except romance. (I did read some Amish and Christian romances for work, so I could recommend them to patrons. The things I do for love. Love of reading, just to be clear.)  A friend jokes that I need to have a shirt made that says: GENRE NONBINARY. Lol.

    I cook. For fun and profit. I’m a seriously good baker, esp. if you need a gluten-free something. I found out at an absurdly late date that I have Celiac AND issues with lactose. The Celiac is non-negotiable, so I had to change my diet radically. The lactose-issue appeared to be more a problem with over-processed milk. As long as I stick to local milk, sheep and goat cheese, and avoid things like huge quantities of ice cream, I’m okay. And since I do like to cook and am good at it (grew up a child of foodies on the Gulf Coast), I’ve found that I have folks who want my GF baked goods. B/c they are SO much better that what’s out there. My vegetarian and vegan dishes are also good. The day ever comes, I have to enter a “home”? Time for plan B. Cause I ain’t eating the shit those places consider food!

    Exercise and meditation get a mention. I walk on the Creeper in the morning (usually, every so often I’ll vary) with Miss P. In the winter when the weather doesn’t permit this, I walk at the Coomes Center. She isn’t allowed there, so I have to try to ensure she just gets the best she can with frequent shorter walks and games of chase indoors.  The meditation I do is a form of mindfulness called yoga nidra. I do a session every morning. Sometimes also in the evening as well.

    Sometimes even with all of these depression still kicks my ass all over the place. Like, if I had a button I could push that would turn me OFF, I would, b/c living just hurts too much. For no reason at all that I can discern. But I haven’t found it yet, and suicide still takes a lot more effort, plus right now I’ve got my tether in place (Miss P). So I’m hanging on. Even when I’d prefer to say, FTW, goodbye!

  • How Long Can I Do This?

    My friends are encouraged that I seem better. They see me going about my normal life once more and don’t hear me talking about depression now. So the crisis must be over. Right? Wrong. I’ve just stopped waving a big flag  that says HELP on it. B/c I saw that all that really did was alarm and frustrate people. It didn’t get me anywhere. I’m still drowning here, on the verge of going under for the last time. But there is no use trying to talk.

    So. Still depressed. Still suicidal. I was riding transit today and and feeling so raw, like I had no skin. Peoples’ voices and and noises actually HURT. I was gripping the edge of the seat and thinking, just let me get to the store….I can hide out in produce or something. By the time we did get the grocery, I was almost ready to jump out of the moving bus if I had to do so. Fortunately I didn’t encounter anyone I knew at the store, and it wasn’t very crowded.  I knew that I would need time to decompress when I got home, b/c I had a meeting that evening to prepare for. (Time to prepare a face for the faces that you meet.)

    I came home. I made a new batch of the olive, fig, and walnut tapenade. (I put some aside to take down to Rick tomorrow. He will be thrilled.) I made the Gazan smashed avocado spread with zhug. (Folks at the FM loved the zhug, btw.)  I made socca. And I made a cold jeweled lentil salad with pickled red onion and basil. Ryan came over and took some home. And tomorrow I’m taking some of the labneh I made to Boyd. So the Mayhem Baking and Tea Company is doing quite well.

    I have acquired a therapist. I don’t know how he’s going to be, nor how I will pay for him. Not eat, maybe? Get fashionably thinner than I already am? But if I’m not going to give in sooner rather later to the suicidal drumbeat in my head, I need to see SOMEONE. He’s the option available at the moment, doesn’t seem terribly objectionable either as a person or a therapist, so I’ll give him a chance. I have naught to lose but some time and money. Both of which are in short shrift at the moment, but what are I am going to do? Miss P needs me. Someone has to maintain her Instagram account…..

  • Hedgehog Me

    I was told yesterday that I’m “prickly and difficult”. While I do not dispute this, I do have an explanation (not a defense) for my hedgehog self. I didn’t share this with the person who called me so, b/c I did not wish to do so much self-disclosure. She was having HER time, and I didn’t wish to intrude.

    In interpersonal space, I often come across as abrupt, no-nonsense, and all-business. I make weird jokes or references. I might seem like someone who doesn’t quite get it, if by “it” you mean “normal social interaction.” There’s a reason for this: I DON’T. You see, I’m autistic. We suspect. I’ve never been formally diagnosed. (How my parents missed THAT, I don’t know. My guess is they were so busy dealing with the PHYSICAL stuff that accompanied me being so premature AND being thankful that I escaped gross neurological impairment , that this slipped past everyone. Everyone just lumped EVERYTHING that was weird, off, unusual about me in a category that was labelled “oh that’s just K”.) For years I thought it WAS just me, until an astute doctor said, “hold on a minute, I think you might be autistic!” I had had YEARS of therapy by then, including therapy designed to teach me “how to human,” so that I could at least function in society. But I don’t pass very well. I’ll always be an obvious interloper. But it’s okay now. I don’t NEED to be human (anymore).  I like who and what I am just fine. Prickles and all.