Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD). I forgot about that one in the first post...I wonder why? Oh, yeah, that's right. I'm ADD.
Here's an important distinction: I have attention deficit disorder, not attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, ADHD. That's why I wasn't diagnosed until I came to my psychiatrist's office after the first semester at Virginia Tech in tears. I was studying 4 hours a night. Typing out all of my notes. And failing miserably. I felt stupid.
My doctor gave me a pretty simple set of questions. He asked me to remember three words. Then, he asked me to count backwards from 100 by 3's. Yeah, right. I got to 91. And then could remember one of the three words. Once medicated, I rarely made a B in college. It was like someone turned off all of the background noise in my head.
For me, ADD is nothing more than a pain in the ass. I stopped taking the medication in graduate school. I think I chose journalism because it takes little to no long-term concentration. One story takes a week or so, and then it's on to something new.
I do struggle with long conversations, and meetings. Last week Jasen and I met with our financial planner. He's ADD, too. I found myself staring at the pictures on his wall, then snapping myself back into the conversation.
I have to make lists to remember anything. Then I have to make reminder notes about the lists.
If I am trying to concentrate on a task, such as writing right now, it drives me absolutely bonkers when someone interrupts me. Like Juni 5 minutes ago because he broke his Lego truck. Or Jasen 30 seconds ago because he can't find the chicken stock. Seriously frustrating.
ADD is more of an annoyance than an issue at this point in my life, which is while I don't take medicine. Another reason I don't take the meds for this particular disorder is because they are stimulative, which is something that does nothing but fuel my anxiety disorder.
I'd write part three, anxiety, if I could pay attention any longer. Or if Juni could rebuild the truck on his own. Or if Jasen could actually open the cupboard door and look in front of his nose for the chicken stock. Unfortunately, none of those things are going to happen...
Monday, February 20, 2012
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
What it Feels Like, Part One
I always have people ask me: "What does it fee like to be bipolar? What does it feel like to be depressed? What does anxiety and a panic attack feel like?"
Even people with the same issues ask me what mine are like, and when I knew my meds began to work. So here goes. It's an emotional week because Juni is turning six (anxiety from him growing older), and I'm beyond hormonal (which gives me anxiety and depression.) So the two of those are just the perfect storm. And I need to rain a little words on the blog.
I figure for every one person who asks me what it feels like, there are 10 too scared to ask. So here goes. I can only handle one part at a time, or my emotions will take over. I'll start with what I've taken meds for the longest: depression. Then anxiety. Then bipolar. If you have questions, ask me. If you need help, I'll help you find it. And if you're going through anything like this, there is help. There is hope. And it WILL get better. Trust me. I had my first panic attack at age 5. My first major depression at 18. And my first full-blown mania at 30. I've embraced my issues, and I'm happy. It's not easy, and it takes work. But that's just life.
So...Part One: Depression
Depression is sneaky. It's slow. It comes over you like a fog. Just a little at a time until eventually, you can't see. For me, it starts with a "down" feeling. Less motivation. Less physical activity. Less energy. Less talking. Less everything. Except for eating. Food becomes my friend.
Depression slowly moves in, and then takes over. My body feels heavy. Like I've been jumping on a trampoline, and now my legs are made of concrete. My mind can't get out of the "funk." And my body doesn't want to get out of bed. My body aches. My face sags. I don't look like myself. Even my posture changes.
I'm tired, all the time. But not because I'm busy. Because I just don't see anything better to do than sleep, or watch tv, or basically any other sloth-like activity.
This lasts for a while...the build-up. And then I hit bottom. It hurts to get out of bed. It hurts to smile. It hurts to talk and it hurts to love. Life isn't...anything. Everything just...is. Not fun, not enjoyable, not anything. Numbness. Failure without trying to succeed. No drive...for anything. Even my senses become numb. Food doesn't taste the same. The world looses it's color to the point of almost black and white. When someone hugs or touches me, there's no reaction. I'm hearing, but not listening. Just going through the motions, wasting my life. Hours, days, weeks pass and I don't realize how much times has gone by. The television is my best friend. Mindless.
And then there's the realization - This sucks. This isn't right. The world is moving, but I'm not. I'm in slow motion. It usually took my mom, driving to Blacksburg, to literally pull me out of bed and take me to my psychiatrist. She'd threaten to take me home to Chesapeake if I didn't go. She'd force me to take a shower, shave my legs, and brush my hair. I hated it, but loved her for seeing that I needed help, and for forcing me to take care of myself.
The problem with depression meds is that they take weeks to work. And some of the side effects just plain blow. But...anything is better than feeling like your life doesn't matter. I've never thought suicide, but I've wondered why I was alive. What my life was worth. What it was all about.
It takes time for the meds to work. And when they do, it's not the magic bullet. You don't wake up on a Tuesday and say "wow! the world is beautiful! I'm alive again!" It's more like the fog slowly lifting, until one day you realize the sun is shining. It's slow. It's never fast enough. It's a process of finding the right med at the right dose. It's hard. BUT...once you find that perfect dose of that perfect med, you're good to go. I've taken the same medication for six years, with no signs of depression and no side effects. That's success.
Yes, I get sad. But that's part of life. I should get sad when my dog dies or my feelings are hurt. But the depression is gone.
I went on and off depression medications three times before I was 20. My doctor told me he followed the "three strike rule." If you go off and on three times, it's not situational (like a death in the family, loss of job, etc.). It's an imbalance within the chemicals in my brain.
Every three or four years, my mind outsmarts the antidepressant, and I have to switch. That's not fun. But it's manageable. I slowly go off one and go onto another to decrease the withdraw symptoms. And it's okay. It ups my anxiety, but I can manage that, too.
Depression is evil. It's sneaky. You don't even know it's there until it's in control, and you're crying in bed, not knowing what's happening or how you even became this shell of yourself. And getting that control back is extreme work. But I fully believe that there is a med out there for everyone. Talk. Give it time. Realize that there are others that have felt THE EXACT SAME WAY. You're not the only one who can't get out of bed today. And this isn't the last day you'll feel this way.
But if I can do it, then so can you. Depression sucks. BUT...things could be worse. Cancer, diabetes, ALSmeds work, and that I have such an amazing family that takes care of me, watches for signs, and strives to understand.
Well...I'm spent. I could talk about how it feels forever...it literally affects every aspect of your mind and body. But that's how my depression feels, in a nutshell...
Even people with the same issues ask me what mine are like, and when I knew my meds began to work. So here goes. It's an emotional week because Juni is turning six (anxiety from him growing older), and I'm beyond hormonal (which gives me anxiety and depression.) So the two of those are just the perfect storm. And I need to rain a little words on the blog.
I figure for every one person who asks me what it feels like, there are 10 too scared to ask. So here goes. I can only handle one part at a time, or my emotions will take over. I'll start with what I've taken meds for the longest: depression. Then anxiety. Then bipolar. If you have questions, ask me. If you need help, I'll help you find it. And if you're going through anything like this, there is help. There is hope. And it WILL get better. Trust me. I had my first panic attack at age 5. My first major depression at 18. And my first full-blown mania at 30. I've embraced my issues, and I'm happy. It's not easy, and it takes work. But that's just life.
So...Part One: Depression
Depression is sneaky. It's slow. It comes over you like a fog. Just a little at a time until eventually, you can't see. For me, it starts with a "down" feeling. Less motivation. Less physical activity. Less energy. Less talking. Less everything. Except for eating. Food becomes my friend.
Depression slowly moves in, and then takes over. My body feels heavy. Like I've been jumping on a trampoline, and now my legs are made of concrete. My mind can't get out of the "funk." And my body doesn't want to get out of bed. My body aches. My face sags. I don't look like myself. Even my posture changes.
I'm tired, all the time. But not because I'm busy. Because I just don't see anything better to do than sleep, or watch tv, or basically any other sloth-like activity.
This lasts for a while...the build-up. And then I hit bottom. It hurts to get out of bed. It hurts to smile. It hurts to talk and it hurts to love. Life isn't...anything. Everything just...is. Not fun, not enjoyable, not anything. Numbness. Failure without trying to succeed. No drive...for anything. Even my senses become numb. Food doesn't taste the same. The world looses it's color to the point of almost black and white. When someone hugs or touches me, there's no reaction. I'm hearing, but not listening. Just going through the motions, wasting my life. Hours, days, weeks pass and I don't realize how much times has gone by. The television is my best friend. Mindless.
And then there's the realization - This sucks. This isn't right. The world is moving, but I'm not. I'm in slow motion. It usually took my mom, driving to Blacksburg, to literally pull me out of bed and take me to my psychiatrist. She'd threaten to take me home to Chesapeake if I didn't go. She'd force me to take a shower, shave my legs, and brush my hair. I hated it, but loved her for seeing that I needed help, and for forcing me to take care of myself.
The problem with depression meds is that they take weeks to work. And some of the side effects just plain blow. But...anything is better than feeling like your life doesn't matter. I've never thought suicide, but I've wondered why I was alive. What my life was worth. What it was all about.
It takes time for the meds to work. And when they do, it's not the magic bullet. You don't wake up on a Tuesday and say "wow! the world is beautiful! I'm alive again!" It's more like the fog slowly lifting, until one day you realize the sun is shining. It's slow. It's never fast enough. It's a process of finding the right med at the right dose. It's hard. BUT...once you find that perfect dose of that perfect med, you're good to go. I've taken the same medication for six years, with no signs of depression and no side effects. That's success.
Yes, I get sad. But that's part of life. I should get sad when my dog dies or my feelings are hurt. But the depression is gone.
I went on and off depression medications three times before I was 20. My doctor told me he followed the "three strike rule." If you go off and on three times, it's not situational (like a death in the family, loss of job, etc.). It's an imbalance within the chemicals in my brain.
Every three or four years, my mind outsmarts the antidepressant, and I have to switch. That's not fun. But it's manageable. I slowly go off one and go onto another to decrease the withdraw symptoms. And it's okay. It ups my anxiety, but I can manage that, too.
Depression is evil. It's sneaky. You don't even know it's there until it's in control, and you're crying in bed, not knowing what's happening or how you even became this shell of yourself. And getting that control back is extreme work. But I fully believe that there is a med out there for everyone. Talk. Give it time. Realize that there are others that have felt THE EXACT SAME WAY. You're not the only one who can't get out of bed today. And this isn't the last day you'll feel this way.
But if I can do it, then so can you. Depression sucks. BUT...things could be worse. Cancer, diabetes, ALSmeds work, and that I have such an amazing family that takes care of me, watches for signs, and strives to understand.
Well...I'm spent. I could talk about how it feels forever...it literally affects every aspect of your mind and body. But that's how my depression feels, in a nutshell...
What DO you get a Redneck Husband for Valentine's Day?
Apparently, Spongebob sleepy pants from WalMart. I love them. And they're under our $10 limit. If I can ever snap a photo of him, I'll post it.
My other ideas were Moonshine (he has two jars in the fridge, though), beer...ummm, yeah...we have a beer fridge, and liquor. That would be in the beer fridge with the moonshine and beer.
My other ideas were Moonshine (he has two jars in the fridge, though), beer...ummm, yeah...we have a beer fridge, and liquor. That would be in the beer fridge with the moonshine and beer.
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