alt.support.depression

asd? I'm trying to get to it, but cannot because apparently my mac osx won't take me to any website that starts with "news", or to a newsgroup. I guess I don't know what this means. Did learn a new term from a site called "users guide to alt.support.depression":

(the) Pit
I could wax eloquent on this, except when I'm in it! It's a name for an intense depressive episode which is usually of shorter duration than the medical definition of a major depressive episode. Other terms are used, such as the beast, or the black dog -- we all have our own images (much as we'd like to forget them). Some posters refer to -being on the edge of the Pit- or - circling the drain- or - feeling Pitish- to describe the feeling of an impending crash.

The reason I'm trying to get to this site is that I saw new headshrinker today, and he prescribed a new drug for me to take along with old drug and to eventually switch to? He thinks old drug is causing anxiety and new drug will make everything fine. I asked about whether it is hard to get off of, because I've heard stories about drugs like Paxil making discontinuation very difficult. M.D. said, "no anti-depressant should be difficult to stop taking". Hmmm. Here is what Wikipedia tells me about the drug he prescribed:

Venlafaxine is somewhat notorious for its potentially severe withdrawal symptoms upon sudden discontinuation. (The recommended discontinuation is a drop of 35 mg a week, and sudden stops are usually advised only in emergencies.) Wyeth-Ayerst refers to these severe withdrawal symptoms in its literature as "severe discontinuation syndrome". These have a tendency to be stronger than the withdrawal effects of many antidepressants, but are similar in nature to those of tricyclic antidepressants and SSRIs such as Paroxetine (Paxil®). These effects may include irritablility, headache, nausea, fatigue, and "brain shivers". Rarer withdrawal symptoms include shaking legs, dizziness and dysphoria. "Brain shivers" have been described as electric-like shocks in the brain causing pounding headaches and disorientation, increasing over time before abating. Although "Brain shivers" aren't exactly painful they can be severe enough to be disabling. Antidepressant withdrawal effects do not indicate addiction, but are rather the results of the brain attempting to reach neurochemical stability. These can be minimalized or avoided by tapering off of the medication over a period of weeks. However, studies by Wyeth-Ayerst and others have reported very rare cases of withdrawal symptoms severe enough to require permanent use. In some of these cases, successful discontinuation was eventually achieved by the addition of fluoxetine, which was later discontinued itself without difficulty.





All I know is I'm not taking it until I know more.

new email

our old internet service provider doesn't extend to our new house, so I have a new email. Here it is:

katymckate@mac.com

letting it all hang out

I realize it may be perplexing to some, and repugnant to others to see me let my bloody insides hang out all over this blog. here are a few reasons why I do it, and why I think it's important.

1. I'm standing in solidarity with my brothers and sisters who know the pain of depression. I intend to get through this, and I want to show that it is possible. I also hope that I am giving a voice of experience to the souls who suffer in silence.

2. To show that, yes there is a cost to family caregiving. I would not change much about the past year, especially the choice to take my mom into my everyday life when she really needed help. But I have learned, the hard way, that there is a consequence for every choice we make. My bod's way of breaking down is in my neurotransmitters. Other people who are overwhelmed by stress may get Krohn's disease, or ulcers, or debilitating back pain. My point? That we, as a rapidly aging society better figure out how to take care of caregivers. Most caregivers of children and other vulnerable family members are women, so yes, this is a women's issue. I don't want my daughters having breakdowns when they are forty because nobody taught them how to take care of themselves first, and others second. My hope is that one thing that comes out of this blog experiment is a new vision of how to keep the well from running dry when it comes to caregiving. I see this as a huge task, and I hope that I will have the tenacity to come up with some valuable insights after when all is said and done.

excuses, excuses

I want to write more, mostly because it seems to be healing for me. Taking the time to be alone and think and put things down in black and white does my soul so much good. Especially at a time when I'm not spiritually or emotionally balanced. This is a hard time of life for me, and I need to make the best choices I can to keep myself from being sucked into the black hole of depression. But, what are my impediments? What keeps me from getting down to business, honing this craft, practicing and acquiring the skills I desire so that I can say what needs to be said?

First, there is the voice. The depression and her chatter.

"Loser with a capital L and that rhymes with Kate."

"What makes you think you're so special, that you get free time? what about the starving children in New Orleans (Zimbabwee, Minneapolis, etc.)?"

"Your house is a mess. There is nothing to eat for dinner. Your children are screaming for attention. Get your ass in gear!"

"You have your kids in childcare, but your aren't working to pay for that new second mortgage? And why aren't you out bringing home some bacon instead of letting the man do all the work?"

Christ, am I ever SICK of that voice. It takes up so much room, so much time, so much emotional energy. And she is such a quiet and insidious enemy. I want to kill her, drive a stake through her throat, but I don't feel fast enough to catch her. Whenever I try to grab her, my body reminds me that I am composed of lead. Everything and everyone is moving so fast around me. Laughing, running, playing. But I myself am going absolutely nowhere.

It occurred to me this week, as well as to my therapist, that the antidepressant drugs may not be working. Yes I'm functional, but this is not good enough. I recall times when I have not been in this place, so I'm pretty sure it's possible! When I started this blog I was not a depressed person, so I even have documented proof that I am more than what I see and feel today.

I haven't had a med check since June, which I think I blogged about. The doctor has needed to cancel the past few times because of a family emergency. I have an appointment with a new M.D. on Monday, and I think it is very good timing. Being depressed, I'm already starting to dwell on how god damn long it will take for new drugs to take effect if that is the route I end up on. Which just gives me one more reason to take them- to regain my speed so that I can catch up with that evil-tongued twin and experience the joy of beating the holy living crap out of her.

comfort

Today is my last Friday having Frank and Mo in childcare, so I've decided to live it up. I'm at the Broiler, a place of familiarity and comfort. I've known this place for almost 20 years, and it feels like home when my real home is in transition. Over the past 6 months, since I've had my kids in childcare, I've enjoyed a few Friday morning Spartan Spinach omelettes. Fresh spinach, fresh tomatoes, feta and hash browns. English muffin. Iced tea, which is becoming a more acceptable substitute for the cup of Joe I'd rather be sipping. Thank God for the Broiler, and for this last Friday morning of unencumbered time.

I decided to spend most of the day writing, since I never get to do this. Time alone is such a precious resource, and harder to find every day. Today I will value what I have, and make the most of it. Today I will take time to flesh out some things I've been working on and thinking about. Sounds like fun, and makes me feel like this is my lucky Friday!

Movies for Innies

My favorite is the description for "Ordinary People".

Accidental Tourist: Tragic introverted/schizoid travel writer fights change after the death of his son, pulled into life by a spunky extroverted gal

Amelie: Introverted French gal quietly and cleverly pulls strings from behind the scenes of those around her and captivates an introverted guy

Annie Hall: A glimpse into the interior world of two introverts

Barefoot in the Park: Introverted lawyer marries extroverted gal and she tries to convert him

The Bishop’s Wife: (Only the original movie.) Ignored introverted wife enjoys relating with an angle (who wouldn’t--its Cary Grant) and oblivious bishop hubby finally sees the light

Driving Miss Daisy: Dignified introverted black man strengthens everyone he meets

Gosford Park: Introverted English maid figures out the plot but keeps mum

Mrs. Minever: Wonderful role model of an introverted woman who keeps the home
fires burning during World War II

Ordinary People: Introverted son comes to terms with mom preferring dead extroverted brother

Possession: Two sticky fingered history buffs read musty letters from the past, to discover an unknown affair between two innies

Roxanne: Introverted guy with a really long nose finds love through handsome mouthpiece

Same Time Next Year: Two innies meet once a year; cavort and share new incarnations of themselves

Saving Private Ryan: Introverted Captain leads the pack

Summer of ’42: Introverted teen grows up carrying groceries one summer

To Kill a Mockingbird: Introverted father has internal strength, wisdom and gentleness which he displays as he tries to find the humanity of a small frightened town

Trip to Bountiful: Interior world is lush

not done yet

A reader told me over the weekend that he thought I was closing down this blog because I started another one. No! This one is good for a while, at least until the anniversary of my mom's passing on which will be February. I also told my reader that I feel a little sick of this blog, it's heaviness and sadness. But the heaviness and sadness are real and appropriate to this time in my life, so I will try to stay true to them and write here when it makes sense to me.

Now, for a little much needed levity, and in memory of my mom who always enjoyed seeing someone get my goat. A couple of kid quotes from the past few days.


From a child at the Kinderstube, as I’m shoveling 2 tons of woodchips onto her new playground:

“You’re voice sounds really young, but your face looks really old.”


Maggie to the rest of the dinner party, after the cook steps out of the room to answer the phone:

“This dinner looks like the garbage man made it.”

Speak up for those who cannot speak. - Proverbs 31:8

From Sojourner Magazine

Dear Kate,

Just weeks after Hurricane Katrina exposed the crisis of poverty in America, Congress will debate as early as Wednesday how much money should be cut from the budgets of health care, nutrition assistance, and other vital services for poor and working families. That's right, they will cut funds - and the question is by how much. Perhaps equally astonishing, they will decide how much - up to $70 billion - they will cut taxes for the richest people in America. In Washington, this may be business as usual, but as people of faith, we believe that budgets are moral documents, and so far this budget is morally bankrupt.

We have a short amount of time to make a big difference, and we need your voice now!

1) Call Congress now. Tell them to get their priorities straight!

(800) 426-8073 (Toll-free courtesy of American Friends Service Committee)

Ask to speak to one of the senators from your state. When the senator's phone is answered, say politely: "My name is _____, and I live in [your town/city]. As a person of faith, I would like Senator [name] to oppose budget cuts to Medicaid, Food Stamps, and other vital services, and to oppose more tax cuts for the very rich. Needs of poor families should be a moral priority at this time, not tax cuts for the wealthy.”

After you're done, please call your other senator, followed by your representative.*

2) Tell 10 friends now!

The success of this call-in day will depend on how many people call their senators and members of Congress. Congress does listen to what their constituents think, so after you call, please tell your friends, family, pastor - anyone who shares your concern for restoring just budget priorities - about this call-in day!**

A Fresh Start

Enough of this dismal view. Let's try something else.

October 11, 1940

If my mom were alive, today would be her 65th birthday. It has also been a year now since I started this blog.

This anniversary has helped me decide that my blog can not go on for ever. February 4, 2006 will be the end of katesandwiched. It seems like a long time from now, but a day I'm looking forward to getting past.

making a fool of one's self

I got the movie "the Upside of Anger" from Netflix. Saturday night I watched it, and also the extra stuff about the movie that's on the DVD. One piece of information from the DVD has stayed with me this weekend. Joan Allen is being interviewed, and she plays the main character in the movie. She is the alcoholic mother of 4 young women, all living in a fancy suburb of Detroit. They all believe that their father/husband has just left them for a swedish secretary, since he's just up and disappeared without a word about where he's going. Joan Allen is great in this movie, and "TUoA" is worth watching just to see her work.

In the interview, Joan Allen talks about going to the limits in her acting when she's just "making a fool of myself". This got me thinking about art and artists and acting foolish. Does the best work from creative people come from their moments of complete and uninhibited absurdity? Or is this just one of the many ways of making art, which every human has her own unique style of doing? Does this quote speak to me because I am a person who could afford to spend more of my life trying to make a fool of myself? Or maybe I'm doing a fine job of it, and nobody has the nerve to tell me?

Perhaps this is why the men I love are so good at acting foolish. I mean this as a compliment, really I do! A sense of humor that is off the deep end is what I'm most strongly attracted to. I get my best laughs from stupid, adolescent nonsense. Like Tim throwing the pail of ice cream out the window of Dupre Hall. Or the image of little Tim on the playground, pretending to stumble around drunk because he wants to make his kindergarten friends like him more. Or a grown man and father of 3tape recording himself crashing his bike and getting a bloody face.

I guess there is no accounting for taste, and Tim is one of my favorite creative personalities.

UFE

I received this link in an email from Sojourners.

angel issues

It's been a while. I don't love writing in this space, because it is so small to look at while I am typing. But the thought of creating a word document and then transferring it over to this blog seems like SUCH a LOT of WORK. Like everything seems right now. So much work.

So here I am, alone in the new house. It is almost 11 a.m., and I just got home from taking Maureen to daycare We were late getting there, as well as getting Maggie and Frank to TCGIS. I dropped my keys between the house and the wood front steps as I was on my way out the door. The four of us then had the pleasure of walking 3 blocks to school in the rain, late. Actually the kids all enjoyed the rainy walk, and I almost started to. I had planned to drive because of the weather, and since we were already behind schedule. But the van was a little hard to start without the keys. Maureen and I walked home again, in the drizzle, then I worked on fishing out the keys with a wire hanger. All the while Maureen was pulling on my ears, squealing at me to look up into her face and laugh with her. Life is oh so funny to her. She is so much not like me.

Maureen accomplished her mission, but I did not. Luckily the neighbor from down the hill came to help, since I'd told her my sob story as she was taking her grandkids to school and as I was walking down the hill with my kids. She came up while I was wrangling with my hanger contraption. She had her arms full of papers and notebooks, on her way back from her church. The storm last night left a hole in her church's roof, and she was coming home to call the roofers. She asked if I'd found my keys. I said, "I see where they are, I just can't reach them." She looked down the crack and said," Oh, I can just reach down there and grab them quick." Although this woman is very thin and apparently flexible, I didn't quite see how she was going to squeeze her arm down into this inch wide crack and pull my keys out. Instead she moved over to the side of the steps, got a stick from the yard and brushed the keys toward her until she could reach down with her hand and pick them up. Naturally I felt stupid, as I'd been sitting there for 40 minutes with my hanger trying to hook the key ring on the end of my wire rod, thinking "there must be an easier way to do this, I'm just not thinking of it!" Thinking it had to do with finding a magnet somewhere in all our unpacked belongings, and wrapping the wire around the magnet.

Do I make things harder than they have to be? Are the issues that torture me today simply optional? Is arguing with myself, fighting, trying so hard to do things right all the time, simply one of many ways to approach my life? Is it time for me to open my eyes to new ways of doing things, ways that don't involve so much goddamn struggle?

I'm going to boxing tonight, forcing myself to go. I always have to force myself to go, but I am never sorry after I've finished.


Here is the music that was playing in my head all night, and also this morning after I got up and pressed "repeat" on the kitchen CD player before the disordered events of the morning started to unfold. It's from Van Morrison, and the title suggests that my mom is not the only with angel issues.

contacting my angel:

contacting my angel, contacting my angel
she's the one, she's the one, that satisfies
contacting my angel she's the one that satisfies
she's the one that I adore

got a telepathic message from my baby
in a little village through the fog
here comes my baby, I can tell, I can tell
by the way she walks
said I've been on a journey up the mountain side
and I drank the water from the stream
it was pure, pure water and I got completely healed

I met a presence on the mountain side
and he looked so radiant and he was the
youth of eternal summers
like a sweet bird of youth in my soul
in my soul, in my soul, in my soul, in my soul
in my soul, in my soul

Round Three?

Am I in the midst of another round of depression? Yes, I believe I am. The past two weeks have been really hard, and stress has tried to have its way with me. The biggest stress has been self- imposed, as I struggle to forgive myself for being so flawed. Last fall while I was not parenting at peak performance, my two oldest children were hurt by a neighbor boy. The pot got churned up again last month when we were called to court to deal with the legal aspects of the situation. It seems to me that the timing of this could not have been more fucked up.

And then there are the Big Life Changes. Tim’s new job, and moving to a new house in a new neighborhood. We knew full well that the timing of these events was not psychologically perfect. No wise advisor would suggest that major change is a good idea after a family death and a major depressive episode. But the spirit moved us, and we responded as best we could. And now it’s time to pay the piper, which is what I’m right now doing. So yes, I am living with depression. Stress brings it on, and right now I’m hauling around lots of it.

But this time feels different than before. Although I have my hopeless moments where I wonder if life is worth the effort, these thoughts are fleeting and less convincing than they were last spring. Now I am able to remind myself that it’s the depression talking, and it’s not me. I’m working hard, I’m not giving in, I’m fighting the demon tooth and nail. My primary weapon is exercise. The Uppercut Boxing gym is saving my life, and giving my kids a mom who can be physically present and accounted for.

What else, besides exercise, is helping me? Qigong. Van Morrison. Greg Brown. Meta Commerse. Taking my kids to the pool. Thinking about our new back yard. Feeling blessed by the genuine and pleasant smiles of the staff at Maggie’s school in the morning. Remembering my own words to my children, which I recite when they are having a hard time with something:

“Everything has a beginning, and everything has an end.” and “remember that a deep breath is your best friend when you are worried about something!” They sound like dumb mom words when I hear them come out of my mouth, but the truth is that they really do help.

So what else can I tell myself today? So far, so good. Keep up the good work. And from my friends who work AA, “let go, let God”.

And now it's time for me to go pick up my kids.