So, on the one hand, yay, I'll get help. On the other hand, crap, August is a long way away. (Explain to me how this makes sense. Crazy person calls doctor and says, I need help. Doctor says, Great! We'll see you in three months. I mean, Crazy Person needs help NOW. What is Crazy Person supposed to do in the meantime?)
Getting through the day is hard. I have a depleted will, drive, and capability to do anything taxing. It's hard enough dragging myself through the routines of my day. And I'm terrified that I'm going to start sucking at my job. And I hate, I hate that my joy in what I do and believe in just isn't there.
So. There's that. There's the fact that I'm exhausted and my eyes hurt from the one-day trip to PA and back this week. There's the fact that I'm driving back to PA this weekend (which I'm happy to do; it's my sister's graduation, hooray for her!!).
And there's the fact that I can only do so much for myself. I'm trying to cope. It's difficult.
My favorite ways of dealing with depression:
1. Spend as much time with people as possible, or as little, depending on my need and mood.
2. Watch a lot of soothing movies that just make me happy when I have to be alone. For example: Monsters, Inc.; Spirited Away; Lilo & Stitch; 10 Things I Hate about You; My Neighbor Totoro. Yes, heavy on the Disney and Miyazaki. Miyazaki in particular is pure joy.
3. Take it easy on myself when possible. I haven't cleaned my apartment thoroughly in a couple of weeks. I just can't. I'll have to make myself eventually; but for now, I'm just letting it be. (I cleaned the bathroom last night, and swept the floors. That's a good start.)
4. Do something radically out of character that is also good for me. This time around I'm training for a triathlon in July. The exercise is amazingly good for my mood, and it's toning muscles and making me feel better about my health and appearance. Plus it's something I've never done before, which makes me feel like I'm being proactive in doing something new and beneficial, and it has no negative triggers for me.
5. Take ruthless advantage of the "self check-out" lines in the grocery stores, when I have to go foraging for food and don't want to interact with strangers.
6. Oh yes, this is my favorite: Buy and read a lot of trashy romance novels. I did this all through college (and in a fit of guilt kept throwing them away), but they're all so ridiculous and predictable and end happily, and it's good escapism.
7. Write. I've been picking through old stories on my GCC laptop, and thinking about taking up an old writing project. It channels me somewhere else for awhile, where all my experiences have artistic meaning, which makes up for the fact that without the completed picture which I can't know, my experiences lack existential meaning.
Sigh. I need a vacation.
7. Write. I've been picking through old stories on my GCC laptop, and thinking about taking up an old writing project. It channels me somewhere else for awhile, where all my experiences have artistic meaning, which makes up for the fact that without the completed picture which I can't know, my experiences lack existential meaning.
Sigh. I need a vacation.
3 comments:
:(
You're right, psychiatrists are in short supply. I should know; I lived with one for the first 17 years of my life. My mother has constantly badgered me to become a psychiatrist too -- "I love what I do; you get to help people; it's very fulfilling; blah, blah, blah" -- but after seeing her phone ring off the hook with the cares of the world at all hours of the day or night and having to deal with tight-fisted insurance companies, and remembering my own sense of abandonment as a child when she was in medical school and residency, my pride wouldn't stand for it. Even if shrinks make a freakish amount of money; in the last salary survey I saw, they are second to only surgeons (!). I guess people are willing to pay anything for a little hope.
In any case, there was a time when I grew tired of myself at last and, at the recommendation of a friend, decided to get help. (Note to self: Ahhh!!) That's when I really learned about the state of psychiatry today. Of the 100 or so docs in my network, less than 10 were women, and of those, 8 were not accepting patients, 1 was an African-American lady working in a dimly-lit, high-rise inner-city project with poor people, and 1 was my mother. In the end, I chose the "ghetto" practice and as it turns out, her deep compassion, humility, and utter competence blew me away. Then I felt bad for taking a spot for someone who needed it more than I did, and my own darned pride got in the way again, so I left. But that brief encounter gave me a greater respect for a profession and a person that can truly respect the livelihood of another. So, the moral of the story is: don't overlook the psychiatrists who don't quite look the part at first glance. That, and, if one doesn't mind bearing the brunt of the human condition (and ungodly HMOs) and being on call almost all of the time, I think psychiatrists have a worthy calling. It's just a shame there aren't more of them.
In the meantime, while there is too much sadness and not enough help to go around, at least you've got a plan. . . Get some rest, and I'll call you tonight, ok?
oh, yah, to clarify so there's not misunderstanding by my phrase "look the part"... I simply mean that has traditionally entailed having a nice, well-lit, wall-papered, air-conditioned office in a safe neighborhood with a pretty degree on the wall and a receptionist to greet you at the desk. Those things don't make the physician, however, and appearances can be deceiving.
I think we are having a parallel experience currently. It took awhile for me to recognize it, and it was hard for me to admit it, but I too am suffering from depression. You are not alone...I will be praying for you...and let me know if you discover any secrets to end the nightmare!
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