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!
