10 Things To Know About Depression (part 2)

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(This is part two of my post on 10 Things To Know About Depression. Click above for part one.)

6. People struggling with depression who are also suicidal do not always need hospitalisation or a trip to the ER.

A common misconception with regard to suicidal thinking is that the person who is experiencing it is suddenly in need of super intensive intervention like a trip to the ER or being admitted inpatient. True, this is sometimes necessary, but most of the time, what a person struggling with suicidal thoughts needs is someone to listen to them and show that they care. If someone you know tells you that they are struggling with suicidal thoughts, the most beneficial thing you can do for them in most cases is stay with them (or find someone else to stay with them), listen to them and encourage them to keep talking. Let them know how loved, important, and needed they are, and remain with them until such time as these thoughts pass. The thing most people do not understand about actively suicidal thinking is that, for the most part, it encompasses a rather narrow window of time and if you can help a person find their way through that window to the other side, then you give them another day to live and love and fight this illness. 

Of course, there certainly are times when intensive intervention is necessary, but it MUST be done in a way that respects the person's dignity and humanity and doesn't make the situation worse. For more information on how to help someone who is suicidal, please read my post on Understanding More About Suicide.

St. Patrick's Day and How I Got My Tattoo

St. Patrick, patron saint of Ireland, the Archdiocese of New York and engineers.

Most people think of St. Patrick's Day as a day when people drink green beer, wear green, and claim Irish ancestry -- whether or not they have it. It is often seen as an excuse to party and act a little crazy. I'll admit, that it is fun to have a party on St. Patrick's Day, but the day is more than that. Like St. Valentine's Day, it began as a Catholic feast day to honour a saint -- in this case, St. Patrick. A feast day, in this sense, has to do with a special day set aside by the Catholic Church to celebrate a particular saint. Of course, many Catholics do feast in the common sense of the word and eat special foods that are associated with that saint or have a party with friends and family on the day as a part of their celebrations, but the reason they celebrate in the first place is because of the saint whose feast day it happens to be. Just so with St. Patrick.

Day Thirty-one: We've Done the Impossible...

I began this 31 Days series with the idea of telling the story of my journey through depression and maybe helping provide some insight and education along the way, but what happened is that I stumbled.

I knew I would.

It's why I gave my series the title "Stumbling Through." I know myself well enough to know that I stumble a lot. The thing about depression is that it provides so many more opportunities to stumble through life, so when I was searching for an appropriate title, it seemed only fitting. The other thing about stumbling is that sometimes you catch yourself and sometimes you fall. I have, thanks to Gray and Pendragon, caught myself most of the time through this journey, but I have fallen too. I haven't really talked here on my blog about how I have fallen, but suffice to say that I've fallen hard enough that it put me behind schedule and very nearly made me stop altogether.

Day Thirty (part 2): Swingin' and Swayin' and Gettin' Merry Like Christmas

Note: This is a continuation of a 2 part entry. To read part one, please click here. To read the entire 31 Days series, just click on the tab above.

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Later that day, Balinda and I go fabric shopping at my favourite shop and a couple of others and by the time we are done, it is almost dark. We stop at a local grocery store and pick up provisions for making tacos for dinner, but for me, tacos will have to wait until much, much later. I have plans with Sarah and my other sister in law, Olivia (who is married to Gray's little brother Andrew) to make good on my desire from earlier this summer when I was at the beach. I am going to get a tattoo. I have been thinking about this ever since this summer and the idea just won't leave me alone. I've looked at designs and local shops back home, but haven't done it yet. I know what I want and even have a picture on my phone of it but that's as far as I've gotten until now. Tonight, we are all going to get inked. Both Sarah and Olivia already have tattoos but they are eager to get another one and to come with me for my first one.

Day Nine: Of Water, Wine and Sirens Song (part 3b)

****Note: This entry contains very intense mentions of suicide (non-graphic). Please read with caution if you are triggered by these subjects.
 

All three girls finish lunch and the older ones go to play while I clean up their baby sister, change her diaper, and get her ready for her nap. She looks up at me as I'm changing her and cracks a wide, single-toothed grin. The gravity of what I am actively planning to do hits me with her smile and I inhale sharply, give her chubby little feet a kiss, and whisper, "I am so sorry, mi osita. I love you..." as I snap her onesie closed and put her tiny pants back over her bottom. I scoop her up and she leans her small head against my chest with a little yawn. I feel her soft weight resting against me and the surge of emotion that fills me is almost more than I can bear. You can't do this to her. You can't do this. Don't do this. Reach out to someone, anyone. I should call Gray. No. He will just drop everything and come rushing home and there's nothing he can do. His employer wouldn't understand. He needs to keep his job. No. Pendragon. Call him. No, I can't. The crisis line? Oh hell no. Email Chez? No. He has more to worry about than me. Plus, you barely know him. There is no one...

Day Nine: Of Water, Wine, and Siren Songs (part 3a)

****Note: This entry contains very intense mentions of suicide (non-graphic). Please read with caution if you are triggered by these subjects.

It is hard to believe that it is the end of June, and yet, it seems to have gone on forever. It is so hot and humid outside, much too hot to go out and play unless there is a swimming pool or sprinkler to keep you cool. The older girls are restless and have been all week. They miss the activity of playing with their cousin E-beth and have been wanting to go visit "Aunt" Sif and swim with her at the pool at her apartment complex. Frankly, I could do with a nice long visit with my best friend too. Sif and I have been texting and calling each other all week. She and her son Raffie have been swimming a lot lately and we have a standing invitation to come over. We could have gone earlier in this week, but it takes a huge amount of effort to get all four of us ready to go over there and my energy has been seriously lacking since Balinda and E-beth left last Saturday morning.

It is Friday morning though and I have been promising the girls all week long, so I fire off a text to Sif, asking her about a swimming date this afternoon. I don't expect an immediate text back as she is likely busy with Raffie, so I set it aside, open my laptop and reach for my cup of coffee. The steaming hot, sweet, creamy drink warms me and for the briefest of moments, the darkness that has been my companion recedes a little. Then the moment evaporates and the numb ache grips me all over again. It was all I could do to drag myself out of bed this morning. I haven't been sleeping or really eating much at all. My weight has dropped almost 40 pounds in the last three and a half months and most days, if I eat at all, it's one small meal in the evening. I stopped counting calories with my phone app about three weeks ago just before our trip to the beach. I realised that my daily intake was so low (less than 500 calories most days) that if I kept focusing on it, I might just calorie count myself into an eating disorder. Pendragon told me it was a wise decision and pointed out that I had plenty to manage without adding that on top of it. I wouldn't even be weighing myself anymore if I had not noticed such a dramatic change in the way my clothes are fitting these days. I have long worn the same plus size clothes, but now they are much looser than they used to be. I realised this one day when I had to visit the ladies room rather urgently and forgot that I was wearing blue jeans. I shoved my pants down and realized when I went to pull them back up that I had not even needed to unbutton or unzip them. My face looks thinner in the mirror and my skin more pale and wan, as though I am wasting away with some illness. But then I guess I am. This depressive episode has been so intense that I am seeing Pendragon weekly (instead of every other week or once a month) and have been since late April; however I have already seen him this week and must wait until Tuesday for my next appointment. It is Friday and Tuesday seems like forever away.

I turn on my computer and pull up my email and Facebook. There is nothing new or interesting in any of it, so I make my way over to a support website for people who are struggling with mental illness like I am. It has a place for leaving messages for others, discussing topics related to mental illness, and reaching out for support and help. There is also a chat feature that allows you to talk with other people in real time. I open the chat window and log in. There are not many people here this morning and I know none of them. They say hello and then go back to their conversation. I feel suddenly even more alone than before and the darkness in my mind goes darker. I can't do this anymore. This hurts so much. I want to die. It would be so easy to just fade away. I could take those Xanax with that vodka based homemade vanilla extract and I know where an X-acto blade is. Two central nervous system depressants and a backup just to be sure. Yes. That will work....but I can't do this. I can't. But I can't bear this either. Oh God, please help me. Please. Please. If I could just cry...just release all this madness, escape from these dark thoughts and all the anguish I feel. Please. I glance up at the image of the Divine Mercy above our sofa and the crucifix above the mantle and the pain is so heavy and thick, that these things that normally bring comfort and peace elicit no feelings at all. Nothing. There is just nothing.

After some time, my older girls are clamouring for lunch, so I put the baby in her high chair and make their lunch. My hands automatically go through the motions of washing grapes, opening yogurt cups and string cheese packages, pouring fish shaped cheesy crackers onto plates, and filling lidded cups with water, but I am miles away in my mind. I automatically reply ("Mmhmm," "Okay,") to their innocent chatter without really hearing it. They settle into their chairs and out of habit, I lead the blessing, but it may as well be gibberish for the sense that it makes to me. There is no comfort or peace in this familiar ritual and the words that accompany it.

As they start on their lunch, I pour myself a diet soda and check the location of the homemade extract, pills, and the blade. I don't know when I will do it, but the plan is crystalising in my head. Even as it does, I look at my three beautiful daughters and my heart wrenches. How can I do this to them? To Gray? Poor Gray...oh Gray, please forgive me for this. Please forgive me for leaving you. I am so so sorry. By all rights, with the emotions that are flooding me as I think of saying goodbye and leaving all those I love most behind to grieve and deal with this mess I have made, I ought to be crying so hard that I am collapsed in a heap in the middle of the kitchen floor. Instead, I am in such anguish and distress, with no way to let go of it that I feel an actual physical ache in my neck, shoulders and chest. My arms and legs feel like lead. I consider calling Pendragon, but dismiss this idea because it will involve talking to a myriad of people before leaving a message for him and then having to wait for him to call me back. I don't have the energy necessary to jump through all those hoops. I need this to end now. I can't bear it for the rest of the day.

(Click here for the continuation of this entry in part 3b.)

Day Nine: Of Water, Wine, and Siren Songs (part 3c)

****Note: This entry contains very intense mentions of suicide (non-graphic). Please read with caution if you are triggered by these subjects.

Out of the nothingness, I hear a sound.

It sounds strange, muted, and far away, but familiar, like birds chirping. As soon as that thought goes through my head, my brain clicks a little and a dim realization penetrates that the sound I heard is my cell phone's text message notification sound. Instinctively, I reach for the last place I recall laying it and my fingers close around the hard outer case. As I glance at the screen, I open my messages and see that it is from Sif. 

Five Minute Friday: Because

I am staring at the prompt for today and suddenly find myself at a loss for words. I think it might be best to plunge ahead anyway and just start writing. I don't know exactly what will come out of this because honestly, everything in my head is really muddled right now. I can make a list of things though and maybe that is the best thing to do.

Because I look at their three little faces each day, so full of promise and light and life and joy...
Because every time I look down at my left hand, I am reminded of my promise, made almost a year ago...
Because I have put one foot in front of the other for so long, what's another step?
Because this is hard, but He gave it all for me and His pain was harder than mine will ever be...
Because despite my doubts, anger, frustration, and all the raw, soul deep pain, I know somewhere, even if only in my subconscious that things shift and even though the light fades today, it may be lit tomorrow anew.
Because although sometimes it is so very very hard, a part of me whispers that it will be worth the struggle...
Because I am supported by the prayers of Gray, Sif, Chez, Rikert, and so many others...
Because, to quote Venerable Archbishop Fulton Sheen, "Life is worth living."

Ave Maria, ora pro nobis!

A Note on Pseudonyms

My previous post (Finding My Tribe) referred to a few people in my life by pseudonyms. The reason for this is simple. The web is a big place and there is not much privacy. For the time being, I will be using pseudonyms for those people in my life that I want to mention specifically. To facilitate your ease in understanding who's who, here's a list:

Gray -- my sweet husband, whose favourite colour happens to be gray
M² -- my eldest daughter
AB -- my middle daughter
GB -- my youngest daughter
Sif -- my best girlfriend, Aunt Sif to my girls, and a permanent member of my tribe

Jae -- one of my best friends from childhood
Chez -- my cross country friend
Rikert -- my former teacher, turned friend
Pendragon -- my exceedingly patient, long-time therapist

This list may be updated from time to time as the need arises.