Black and White
Saturday, April 08, 2006
As different as black and white.
Today started pretty good. A little hurried, but pretty good from the mood perspective. I tried to squeeze too much in before leaving to play racquetball, and made myself late getting to the courts. Not an intelligent way to start, and a good way to negate a good start.
I was playing in a racquetball “shuttle” this morning, which is an organized weekly event (actually, there are 5 of them throughout the week, but Saturday morning is the most popular one.) There are 8 courts, numbered, of course, 1 through 8. 16 people can sign-up to play. The shuttle consists of 5 rounds of 15 minutes (five 15 minute games.) A buzzer sounds at the end of each round. Each player is assigned a court in which to begin, #1 being the lowest court and #8 being highest. Players are assigned to courts based on relative ability. At the end of each round, the winning player moves up a court, and the loser moves down. Nice arrangement because you are always playing someone new. After 7:30 on the morning of the shuttle, you can call the rec center and sign-up. On Saturday mornings, if AT 7:30 you aren’t calling, hanging up, hitting redial and re-calling, over and over until you get through, you don’t make the list of the first 16 people to call-in. Tough luck. Sometimes, even if you DO start right at 7:30, you still don’t make it.
Back, five years ago, when I played 3 or 4 times a week, Saturday mornings drew a pretty tough crowd. Better players on average than any other shuttle. Now, I can’t believe the caliber of players showing up on Saturdays! I used to never play below court 4 or 5. Now, granted, I’m still working on getting my game back, but its coming along pretty well. I made it to court 3 today, but courts 3 and up were occupied by solid “A” players.
Anyway, being late, I had to rush, rush, rush to get my shoes on, pick a racquet, find a glove, find a ball and a sweatband and a headband (I shave my head, and sweat a lot, which makes a headband or bandana a must!) So, I got the to court pretty frazzled for my first round. NOT the way to begin. My first 2 rounds were terrible. No focus, no concentration, very anxious, missing shots, choosing shots poorly. All because I over-booked my morning and was late. It took me until the third round to have any game at all (but when I found it, I FOUND it.)
When I got home, my mood was good. I showered and did some yard work. I was working from a schedule for the day that I had put together, trying hard to develop some discipline concerning over-booking my days and setting myself up for bad days. Things seemed to be going ok, but I couldn’t shake completely that anxiety that I created for myself this morning.
Things cruised along ok until, about 2:30, Melissa and were driving along, talking about money, the future, stuff people talk about. My mind kept returning to the fact that I’m not working, not making any money, not yet getting any disability compensation from either my LTD or SSDI. None of that sits well with me on my best days. It is hard being “ok” with me when I’m not supporting my family. Add the fact that Melissa’s job is a school year job and doesn’t go through the summer (nor does the income.) We have family that’s been helping us out some, and that doesn’t work well for me either. If I give it too much thought, it just doesn’t work well for me that I’m not contributing more than I am. Today, I guess I gave it too much thought. My mood fell like a skydiver without a parachute.
In a matter of minutes, 30 or 40, all I could think about was that so many things would be better for my family if I wasn’t here. They would have money (big life insurance), they could sell the house, buy a home closer to Melissa’s family with the equity from this one (which probably would have happened if not for me, already, and is even harder to do given that the mental health system in northwest Arkansas isn’t exactly top notch), Melissa could stop worrying about me and focus on helping Mic, and everyone could just get on with their lives and stop wondering "How's dad going to be today?" I couldn’t get it out of my head, and those thoughts tainted everything else. Everyone I see, in public, on magazine covers, everywhere, I think “Oh, they can live comfortably because they have a job and have an income.”
I have become convinced that I have waited too long between treatments. And now the doubts have started concerning whether this whole fight was worth the effort, worth what I continue to put my family through. Today, taking what seems to be “the inevitable step” just seems more and more the obvious choice the longer these "quick little sepressions" go one. Today, I even got to enjoy the mental images (again and again) of myself sitting in the floor of the shower, having drained my blood through slashed wrists (not the way I had considered ending my life in the past…don’t know where it came from.) Ugh!
I asked Melissa, when she noticed a tear running down my face as we drove along, “Things HAVE been better than they have the last two weeks, haven’t they?” In these quick depressions, I can so easily convince myself that I have never really been better, that it was a mask, just me WANTING to be better, and then reality returns.
I know, down deep, that things have been better until a couple of weeks ago, and slowly these quick but deep depressions are becoming more frequent. Too much time between treatments? Too much effort for the return I’m getting? Too much to ask of my family? Today, I can’t answer those questions. I can just fight my way through the evening, medicate the mood, and hope tomorrow is better. But today, that seems to be becoming a tired routine.
Question for my fellow sufferers out there: Do you talk to yourself, and repeat the same things, same phrases, over and over? I have just really noticed it lately, but I know I’ve been doing it for quite a while (like, years.) I can’t put my finger on what kinds of things it is, but its when I’m alone and usually when I’m working on something, and imagining a conversation with someone else. Talking to myself is neurotic enough. But I repeat sentences over and over, maybe 5 or 6 times each, and then move on to the next one. Anyone else do this?
Oh, icing on my cake! I just got word that my Long Term Disability has been denied by The Hartford. If you are or are considering buying LTD from The Hartford, don’t waste your money. They are denying on a “pre-existing condition” basis. The DEPRESSION was pre-existing, and I worked through it. The ECT treatment was not pre-existing and is the reason I can’t work. I smell a lawyer battle coming up! Melissa was upset, I was upset, Mic was being his “me, me, me” self, and then there is poor Maggie. Stoic, who must be wondering, worrying “What the hell is going on?” but not wanting to ask, bottling it up. What toll is this all taking on her? She came to me three times tonight, [put her arms around me and hugged me tight, and said “I love you, Daddy. Everything is going to be ok.” Melissa and I talked about ways to cut living costs, selling the car that is financed and keeping the one that’s paid for and the motorcycle, selling the house (which won’t do any good if we plan to stay in this city because of the housing market condition…a smaller house would cost us just as much/month as this one.), moving to NW Arkansas (where her family is and the cost of living is much lower), lowering cable, cell phone and other “optional” expenditures.
All of this, without a doubt, put my day over the top. I sat in the base of the shower in the hot water, in tears, figuring out how I would sit, what I would use, and where I would make the incisions when it comes to that time. Not yet…game’s not over yet. But I will NOT be the cause of my wife or kids going without the things they need. I simply can’t live with that. But there is still time on the clock, and a little fight left in my soul.
I have had countless people tell me that my story is book material, and that I should write a book. They are probably very correct. And there is so much more to this story which I have tucked away in a journal which is prequel to this blog. But I don’t know if time or energy is going to allow the story to be told book form. If any author, publisher, agent or anyone else capable of helping get the story published is reading, please contact me. But do it quickly. I don’t know how long I will be able to tell the “rest of the story.”
As different as black and white.
Today started pretty good. A little hurried, but pretty good from the mood perspective. I tried to squeeze too much in before leaving to play racquetball, and made myself late getting to the courts. Not an intelligent way to start, and a good way to negate a good start.
I was playing in a racquetball “shuttle” this morning, which is an organized weekly event (actually, there are 5 of them throughout the week, but Saturday morning is the most popular one.) There are 8 courts, numbered, of course, 1 through 8. 16 people can sign-up to play. The shuttle consists of 5 rounds of 15 minutes (five 15 minute games.) A buzzer sounds at the end of each round. Each player is assigned a court in which to begin, #1 being the lowest court and #8 being highest. Players are assigned to courts based on relative ability. At the end of each round, the winning player moves up a court, and the loser moves down. Nice arrangement because you are always playing someone new. After 7:30 on the morning of the shuttle, you can call the rec center and sign-up. On Saturday mornings, if AT 7:30 you aren’t calling, hanging up, hitting redial and re-calling, over and over until you get through, you don’t make the list of the first 16 people to call-in. Tough luck. Sometimes, even if you DO start right at 7:30, you still don’t make it.
Back, five years ago, when I played 3 or 4 times a week, Saturday mornings drew a pretty tough crowd. Better players on average than any other shuttle. Now, I can’t believe the caliber of players showing up on Saturdays! I used to never play below court 4 or 5. Now, granted, I’m still working on getting my game back, but its coming along pretty well. I made it to court 3 today, but courts 3 and up were occupied by solid “A” players.
Anyway, being late, I had to rush, rush, rush to get my shoes on, pick a racquet, find a glove, find a ball and a sweatband and a headband (I shave my head, and sweat a lot, which makes a headband or bandana a must!) So, I got the to court pretty frazzled for my first round. NOT the way to begin. My first 2 rounds were terrible. No focus, no concentration, very anxious, missing shots, choosing shots poorly. All because I over-booked my morning and was late. It took me until the third round to have any game at all (but when I found it, I FOUND it.)
When I got home, my mood was good. I showered and did some yard work. I was working from a schedule for the day that I had put together, trying hard to develop some discipline concerning over-booking my days and setting myself up for bad days. Things seemed to be going ok, but I couldn’t shake completely that anxiety that I created for myself this morning.
Things cruised along ok until, about 2:30, Melissa and were driving along, talking about money, the future, stuff people talk about. My mind kept returning to the fact that I’m not working, not making any money, not yet getting any disability compensation from either my LTD or SSDI. None of that sits well with me on my best days. It is hard being “ok” with me when I’m not supporting my family. Add the fact that Melissa’s job is a school year job and doesn’t go through the summer (nor does the income.) We have family that’s been helping us out some, and that doesn’t work well for me either. If I give it too much thought, it just doesn’t work well for me that I’m not contributing more than I am. Today, I guess I gave it too much thought. My mood fell like a skydiver without a parachute.
In a matter of minutes, 30 or 40, all I could think about was that so many things would be better for my family if I wasn’t here. They would have money (big life insurance), they could sell the house, buy a home closer to Melissa’s family with the equity from this one (which probably would have happened if not for me, already, and is even harder to do given that the mental health system in northwest Arkansas isn’t exactly top notch), Melissa could stop worrying about me and focus on helping Mic, and everyone could just get on with their lives and stop wondering "How's dad going to be today?" I couldn’t get it out of my head, and those thoughts tainted everything else. Everyone I see, in public, on magazine covers, everywhere, I think “Oh, they can live comfortably because they have a job and have an income.”
I have become convinced that I have waited too long between treatments. And now the doubts have started concerning whether this whole fight was worth the effort, worth what I continue to put my family through. Today, taking what seems to be “the inevitable step” just seems more and more the obvious choice the longer these "quick little sepressions" go one. Today, I even got to enjoy the mental images (again and again) of myself sitting in the floor of the shower, having drained my blood through slashed wrists (not the way I had considered ending my life in the past…don’t know where it came from.) Ugh!
I asked Melissa, when she noticed a tear running down my face as we drove along, “Things HAVE been better than they have the last two weeks, haven’t they?” In these quick depressions, I can so easily convince myself that I have never really been better, that it was a mask, just me WANTING to be better, and then reality returns.
I know, down deep, that things have been better until a couple of weeks ago, and slowly these quick but deep depressions are becoming more frequent. Too much time between treatments? Too much effort for the return I’m getting? Too much to ask of my family? Today, I can’t answer those questions. I can just fight my way through the evening, medicate the mood, and hope tomorrow is better. But today, that seems to be becoming a tired routine.
Question for my fellow sufferers out there: Do you talk to yourself, and repeat the same things, same phrases, over and over? I have just really noticed it lately, but I know I’ve been doing it for quite a while (like, years.) I can’t put my finger on what kinds of things it is, but its when I’m alone and usually when I’m working on something, and imagining a conversation with someone else. Talking to myself is neurotic enough. But I repeat sentences over and over, maybe 5 or 6 times each, and then move on to the next one. Anyone else do this?
Oh, icing on my cake! I just got word that my Long Term Disability has been denied by The Hartford. If you are or are considering buying LTD from The Hartford, don’t waste your money. They are denying on a “pre-existing condition” basis. The DEPRESSION was pre-existing, and I worked through it. The ECT treatment was not pre-existing and is the reason I can’t work. I smell a lawyer battle coming up! Melissa was upset, I was upset, Mic was being his “me, me, me” self, and then there is poor Maggie. Stoic, who must be wondering, worrying “What the hell is going on?” but not wanting to ask, bottling it up. What toll is this all taking on her? She came to me three times tonight, [put her arms around me and hugged me tight, and said “I love you, Daddy. Everything is going to be ok.” Melissa and I talked about ways to cut living costs, selling the car that is financed and keeping the one that’s paid for and the motorcycle, selling the house (which won’t do any good if we plan to stay in this city because of the housing market condition…a smaller house would cost us just as much/month as this one.), moving to NW Arkansas (where her family is and the cost of living is much lower), lowering cable, cell phone and other “optional” expenditures.
All of this, without a doubt, put my day over the top. I sat in the base of the shower in the hot water, in tears, figuring out how I would sit, what I would use, and where I would make the incisions when it comes to that time. Not yet…game’s not over yet. But I will NOT be the cause of my wife or kids going without the things they need. I simply can’t live with that. But there is still time on the clock, and a little fight left in my soul.
I have had countless people tell me that my story is book material, and that I should write a book. They are probably very correct. And there is so much more to this story which I have tucked away in a journal which is prequel to this blog. But I don’t know if time or energy is going to allow the story to be told book form. If any author, publisher, agent or anyone else capable of helping get the story published is reading, please contact me. But do it quickly. I don’t know how long I will be able to tell the “rest of the story.”
posted by DeMental at 8:37 AM
1 Comments:
OMG, I cried reading this one. I am SO familiar with these thoughts and pattern of thinking you talk of. It is, unfortunately, the topic of many conversations I have with my therapist. Mainly we talk about the "self-talk" and the round and round nature of it. He terms it "ruminating" and says it is a very common phenomenon with severe depression. The key, of course, is to recognize when it is happening and get yourself out of it through distraction or meditation or whatever means you find that works for you. The TRICK is finding that means. Myself, I can't seem to find it.
I'm amazed that my therapist doesn't get so frustrated with me that he doesn't just haul off and slap me, kind of like those old movies with the "hysterical" women!
Many of the different meds I've been on have helped tremendously in alleviating that tendency to have these circular conversations with myself. Typically I am unable to remain on them due to the seriousness of side effects.
You haven't mentioned that you are seeing a Therapist. I would HIGHLY recommend that you do this. He is my grounding point. He helps me keep things in perspective. (of course, I'd prefer that he lived with me so he could provide that grounding 24/7!)
Also, talk to the Pdoc that is prescribing you meds and explain that you are doing this. He/She should not be surprised by this manifestation and may be able to modify your meds to help. If you don't get a handle on it, it will just get worse (just talking from my own experience).
Best of luck.
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