Coming Up For Air

CW depression and suicide 

If you've been reading this blog for any amount of time, you know I've been battling CPTSD and depression for a while, but these last few weeks have been the darkest I've experienced since I was a teen. I still didn't feel as bad as when I was young and attempted suicide,  thankfully, but it was still a very deep hole and I did have thoughts that can be precursors to suicide ideation (I know those red flags well) and that was very concerning. 

I haven't much felt like writing, especially when I wrote a post about my depression a couple weeks ago that nearly no one read, which was a depression trigger for me (more on that later). I say this not to shame anyone, but, since I've long used this space as a place to share my mental health journey and to be as transparent as possible about my emotions and thoughts and experiences as a way to both connect to others who may also be feeling similarly and to also reduce the stigmas around talking about mental illness and mental health. 

I don't want to just talk clinically; I want to describe how I feel, to open up the conversation, to get everyone talking about themselves too. It's only in the light that we find healing, I think. With that in mind, I want to talk about this latest bout of depression, but also how I've clawed my way up to a place where I feel I can breathe again. I'm by no means magically cured, but I'm in a place less scary. 

Let me back up. As you know, I was laid off a few weeks ago. And when a trigger like this occurs, I tend to not react at all and this time was no different. I powered through. I was fine. Fine. Fine. Totally fine. To the point where my friends were kind of weirded out by my almost manic-state of fine-ness. That is a trauma response. I freeze and then I flee any scary feelings by finding ways to control the situation. I was awash with jittery energy, buzzing around my house, trying to find some way to feel normal, or useful, or to find something to fucking DO. 

But being laid off isn't normal. Even in the best of circumstances, it's weird! One day, you're mired in the everyday culture of a job, with the routines and the people and the conversations and the task lists, and the next? It's completely different. It's a weird thing to do. I felt that way the other time I was officially laid off, but not when I've voluntarily left positions, because the change isn't that shocking. When you give notice, you have time to adjust to the change. A layoff is generally instant. 

I've talked about it before, but for first time readers, in this case, I didn't take it personally and I had been dreading it for months, since the pandemic started. I knew events were being canceled left and right and really knew in my gut that it wouldn't be long before my job was effected. This is the reality for a lot of people in this pandemic, especially in the US. Still, the intellectual part of the brain doesn't always communicate with the deeper psyche and so it was inevitable that my jittery trauma response would wear off and the darker feelings would surface. 

And boy did they ever! 

My anxiety brain really left the building, so this wasn't the constant soundtrack of toxic thoughts (usually in my mother's voice) that can lead to panic; no this was more like a depression ogre sitting on my chest, filling me with darkness and I truly felt like I couldn't breathe. 

In a cruel twist, I found that I suddenly had tons of time on my hands to just sink deeper into that, mostly by becoming completely addicted to social media and the constant terrible news around the US and the world. When you're depressed, what better way to treat that than by a barrage of seemingly new ways of seeing how we're all totally and completely fucked. 

Between our joke of leadership and how he's fucked up this pandemic and screwed us all and protesters being kidnapped by federal agents in my own city, I felt like I was just waiting to die. Every minute of every day felt like more and more evidence that this inevitability was just around the corner, so why even try? We're living in a fascist dictatorship with a deadly virus raging and so what was the point of even trying anymore? But I couldn't turn it off. When I was away from it, I felt guilty. When I was on it, I felt like I was sinking. I couldn't win. 

I'd try to do projects, little things around the house or work on my resume or unemployment or writing, but when I was met with any obstacle whatsoever, I'd lose it. I'd break down into the worst things I felt about myself, some fueled from years of trauma and some from capitalist conditioning that has taught us all since birth that our only worth is in our productivity. If I couldn't manage a simple task, what good was I? What was the point of me? 

I tried to write.  I trued to reach out. But then it felt like no one noticed and I felt like I was SCREAMING for help and it was falling on closed ears. To be truthful, that scream was probably silent. If I'm being honest, I'm typically the more engaging one in my friendships. I'm typically the one who initiates conversation (though of course not always) and so I was likely sitting alone in bed wondering why no one was reaching out and they were all probably wondering the same thing about me. Or when I would hear from friends, I'd hint at my condition, thinking I was, again, SCREAMING for help, when I was really barely hinting at best. 

Because I'm not all that great at being vulnerable.  I may seem like I am, here, where I flay myself alive in the written word, but I'm really not when it comes to real life. IRL, as it were, I've buttoned myself up in survival mode for so long and projected a constant air of toughness that it's very hard for me to tear that all down and show people the hard stuff. I'm an open book, but you'll get the facts about me, the narrated version, told in my reliable narrator's voice, very rarely do I break myself down. For the few of you who have seen that, know, then, how much trust I have in you. It's not even a conscious choice; it's something that comes from deep inside me, recognizing the love and support I see in your soul. 

But also, if I do let myself be totally vulnerable, that feeling of reaching out for help and not being heard is a huge trigger for me, since, when I attempted suicide as a teen, nobody noticed. I survived only because the method I chose wasn't successful, not because anyone saved me. I think, in my young mind, I both wanted to die to escape my terror, but also I didn't want to die, but to be noticed by someone and take me away from it. I think I thought if I ended up in a hospital, maybe someone would ask me what was wrong. I was trapped in an abusive home, crying out in pain, trying to escape, but nobody noticed, nobody saved me. 

Obviously I lived and obviously 15 years of therapy have helped me save myself for years, but yeah, that lonely feeling is a major trigger. 

Add to that the complete nightmare that applying for unemployment in Oregon has been, and I was not only zapped of all hope, but mired in that total shitshow gripped me with such terror that I wouldn't have any money coming in and we'd be homeless and everything I know and love would be over. 

Homelessness has been a huge fear of mine since childhood, which I've come close to being before and which I've talked about before. It's rarely logical I tend to catastrophize in giant leaps: 

Job Loss > Homelessness > Death

Even though there are lots of steps in between those pieces and I have a safety net of people who love me and would likely not let me be homeless, which I didn't always feel like I had. 

I also inadvertently kept most of this from my husband. He noticed I was feeling down and was being as supportive as he could, but I subconsciously kept the dark dark dark thoughts from him, because, again, I think I was trying to be strong and not stress him out. Hello, trauma response! Note: people pleasing is often a sign of abuse survivors; we manage the happiness of those around us as a survival tactic, even when those around us pose no threat. It's a coping skill honed with time in abusive homes. 

Anyway, about a week ago, I was having a particularly hard day dealing with unemployment and was having a total meltdown and Hubs was staring at me like one stares at a rabid dog, concerned but also scared, and trying to help me find solutions to my predicament when it occurred to me that he totally didn't understand why I was bawling. So I asked him, "Why do you think I'm so upset?" And he said, "Because unemployment isn't working out." And that was an AHA! moment if I've ever had one. I told him, "I'm upset because I'm depressed and the unemployment shit is a trigger." 

I said more than that, though. I let him really hear how depressed I'd been feeling and how scared I was and he heard me and he sat with me and that one moment alone felt like such a relief. Why had I been managing my depression for him? He's a tough guy! He can support me! I don't always need to be strong for others; sometimes they can be strong for me. 

That was also a big realization for me too! I'm not depressed because I was laid off. I'm not depressed because our president is a tyrant and our rights are rapidly eroding and exposing the worst of what we are. I'm not depressed because people are dying en masse. I'm not depressed because the unemployment office is a 3 ring circus. I'm depressed because I live with CPTSD and all of those things are triggers for my depression. It's a perfect storm of triggers that, for someone who clings to anything that gives her a sense of control, pulls the rug, the floor, the foundation, and the soil out from underneath her! It's no wonder that I couldn't breathe. 

Luckily, the next day, I had a therapy appointment and I fucking love my therapist. Just the simple act of talking with her makes me feel lighter, makes me feel heard and validated and like I have a lifeline. She's such a quiet but solid presence, even over Zoom. Of course we talked about all of this and I cried a lot and we made a plan for simple things I could do to find control and meaning in small things and create some routine. 

The good student that I am, I love getting goals to work on, so here we go:

Goal 1: Do one thing each day, but give myself permission to walk away from that thing. 

This is because I'm a relentless problem solver, so I often try to problem solve my way out of a barrier, but, when I'm depressed, that can spiral out into panic and then it's not like I'm actually solving anything while I have a full on panic attack. So if I'm frustrated, I walk away from it. Maybe that means a small break until I feel better, or maybe it means trying again another day. Also, that one thing a day could be as small as I wanted! Like painting my toes, or doing a little gardening, or working on my resume. 

Then I discovered that once I gave myself permission to walk away from something, I didn't need to! All of a sudden, I was tackling the little projects with energy and, when I finished, I often wanted to do other things. Just the act of letting myself off the hook allowed me to do the things I wanted to do and the more things I accomplished, I felt better about myself. 

Now, I don't want to perpetuate the "productivity is the key" trope that I think is super damaging, but accomplishing things for ME, like gardening or working on my house or pampering myself  or working on a hobby can be very fulfilling. When you're battling this feeling of uselessness, finding usefulness in enriching myself is a wonderful feeling. 

Goal 2: Social media break. 

I decided to cut out Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram for a while, because these apps, while useful in so many ways, are just a constant barrage of depression fuel. And it's hard to separate when so much of current events are pushed through social before they ever get to mainstream media and before the media can spit bias or spin on it. But if I take a little bit to step away from the social machine in order to save my own life, I think that's necessary. I didn't cut myself off from the state of the world by any means and I'll never be happy being uninformed, but being attached to those forums every second of the day was damaging my mental health. 

It took some practice. I often open and immediately close those apps out of habit and I've been dipping my toes back into Instagram the last few days, but it's been immensely helpful. 

Goal 3: Get some sleep. 

I'm a lifelong insomniac. I've never been a good sleeper, because I'm high anxiety and need help turning my brain off. But my typical routine wasn't working! I'd usually take a OTC sleep aid (no melatonin or valerian root as both increase my anxiety) an hour before I want to close my eyes, then turn off my TV/phone a half hour before eyes closed and read. Usually I need total darkness and total silence to sleep, but I found that no matter how relaxed I thought I was, once I closed my eyes, the brain would start whirring again. 

Alas. 

So therapist and I talked about starting my routine even earlier, then adding in a sleep story (I found an app I like that does these) to help my brain calm down and then turn on some sleep sounds. At first, ocean sounds were my fave, but, while I was feeling happier, I wasn't sleeping. I've found that cricket sounds are working best (who knew?) but I wake up again when they turn off. I might actually need to leave them on all night. 

But it is mostly helping and the more sleep I get, the less depressed I feel when I first wake up. Sleep really is super important. 

Goal 4: Give myself permission to reach out to friends. 

This one is big for me, but recognizing that it's okay if I reach out to them and not the other way around doesn't mean they don't care and that it's okay to ask for help is kind of groundbreaking. Hello, I'm Andrea and I'm almost 40 and I'm learning that I don't have to be a rock all the time. 

Who the fuck knew? 

Goal 5: Find something to look forward to.

Because we're in a pandemic and my career is nil and I don't know how to plan for an uncertain future, how was I supposed to plan for the future?!?! But my therapist encouraged me to find small things to dream about, to shoot for, so I'm letting myself do it. I'm planning future tattoos and I made a long list of both small and major house projects and even future trips and maybe even think about changing careers. I'm even considering maybe possibly going back to school. Maybe to become a therapist?! I don't know. But allowing myself to think about it is kind of cool. 

So that brings me here. I am feeling so much better. Better means not as bad as before, means I'm feeling less dark, means I feel like I can breathe again. 

Feeling this progress gives me hope that I'll feel hope again. I'm not a hopeful person by nature, but I'm learning to be.