Canberra Day Eighteen

Wednesday 28th September, 2016….yesterday still to come.

Well this is all out of order but I’m struggling a bit to keep things together. I took my tablets, and went to bed by 10pm last night to give myself the best chance for today. Slept okay I think, hard to remember, thought I was too drowsy and hungover when hubby was going off to work and tried to psych myself up, but he was actually getting up for his 5.30am morning bike ride!! So…back to sleep, and it’s always a struggle waking up from that second morning sleep. When my 9am alarm went off I just couldn’t feel like it was time for the day, and rolled over. Actually can’t remember now what time it was that I got up, somewhere around 10 or 10.30am. Had brekky around 11.30am, hubby reminded me to have lunch around 2 so at 2.30pm I finally got started on that.

Hubby is being my hero, yesterday and today. Not that he isn’t always; he is. But I really need a helper right now, and he’s being that. The photo of the day is his reminder to me of what I could eat for lunch. I have NO imagination for lunch, I’ve always eaten leftovers and when there aren’t any leftovers, I just stare at the pantry, in the fridge and I can’t think! So I default to drive-through which obviously isn’t ideal, but it’s so close to home, a quick drive away. You may have noticed that weight is a bit of an issue for me. Speaking mildly. It’s become a bit of a thing though, buying drive-through, and even when I don’t really want it, that’s what I do because I know what’s there, and it’s always there, and it’s no bother, and it’s just easy and doesn’t require thought or planning. Sad, you probably think. So do I, often. The rest of the time I’m just pleased that that’s lunch sorted for another day. Plus it tastes good sometimes; not all the time.

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I’m sure that hubby thinks its sad too, so I hide it. That’s become a thing, too. Not quite admitting to what I’ve eaten during the day. Burying the evidence at the bottom of the rubbish bin, or in the bin bag that’s on my side of the bed and only taking it out when I’m taking the bins out to the road, or worst comes the worst putting it in someone else’s bins. And that is not the way to have an honest relationship, which I’ve surprisingly taken a long time to figure out! It just puts up a little wall, stone by stone until you realise that there’s a barrier in the way of the two of you really connecting. Somehow it took an honest conversation last night about me hiding my food habits to start taking down some stones and building a bridge. It’s horrible to think we would have something between us! I’ve hated it lately. We have always been best friends and partners with no lies, no hiding, no buried pasts, full openness and honesty; and this is no time to change any of that!!! It’s hard enough keeping an equal relationship with mental illness on one side. It wasn’t intentional; I was doing the self-protection thing. Which does boil down more or less to selfishness, really. Where to avoid an uncomfortable discussion of my obesity, and eating food that can only contribute to more weight gain, and spending money of unhealthy food and so on, I’d hide anything to do with it: receipts, food scraps and packaging, and even pay cash so it doesn’t show on our credit card statement! It’s all become a sad rigmarole, embarrassing, and many other things; I’m sure you can fill in some of gaps.

But, we’ve opened the door, so here’s the new thing: planned lunches. So far today, so good. A nice toasted sandwich with prosciutto, cheese and tomato. Yum! I’ve got pies to cook with frozen veg, some bacon and cheese topped rolls, and a bit more confidence that I can do this! I can eat regular lunches like regular people and go back to the times before when the day manager at KFC knew me and greeted me with a smile every time I drove through, and had a joke with me! She’s a really lovely girl, is it beyond tragic to say I miss her? So much for new city, new habits!!

Well, that was a lot of spewing of internal bile that I hadn’t really planned on sharing today! But there we are.

All I can say about today is my planned ride and bird watching didn’t eventuate. Owing to the fact that it took me 20 minutes and a few sit downs to get dressed for the ride after a phone call to hubby for an inspirational speech, and after procrastinating all day! It didn’t seem like I could throw a leg over a bike! My main achievement was sitting around on the couch deleting a few MB of photos from my computer so I can fill it up again with the 800 or so photos that I took yesterday!!! Eventually I’m going to need my own server! And that was my day! So…not the greatest. Not one to remember. Quite frustrating really watching the brilliant sunshine and blue cloudless skies go by, knowing its the last fine day of the week! If only…but no, as hubby says, it wasn’t my day. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be firing on all cylinders just in time to watch an inch of rain pour down from the skies! Who knows? There doesn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason to me as to how I’m going to be each day. I am missing the routine of getting up early to take hubby to work, I think, but I doubt I’d actually have been up for it today and yesterday. I wasn’t up for it last Thursday; needed a sleep in. And he rode to work on Friday. Maybe this was coming all along and was just inevitable; after all I did surprisingly well for the first 10 days. It’s just annoying, because I can’t say one way or another. Am I just having a bad couple of days like anyone could? Or am I having a down swing with my moods that I should monitor and that might need some intervention? And on and on, my mind is just going round and round and round, on a slight downward trajectory. Things that don’t usually bother me are getting in my craw, so to speak. I’m thinking too much. A good nap has helped a bit, but in total that means that I slept from 10pm last night to 10am this morning, then for another 2 hours from 4.30 to 6.30pm. 14 hours a day isn’t really sustainable. I don’t know whether having a job would have helped or hindered today. Would having to get up have worked, or would it have been another sick day? I wouldn’t have been the best customer service! Enough! No more thinking for now. Off I go at snail’s pace to potter around about dinner. Hubby’s late, poor him. So here we go, off I go. Off I go…

Getting going

I want to talk about motivation.

Again.

Because we can never hear this message too many times. Because understanding motivation might just make you someone’s hero. And it might make people with motivation more thankful and grateful for it, and help them feel empathy for someone in defeat!

Motivation is a BIG, HUGE, MASSIVE, ENORMOUS, GIGANTIC barrier to people suffering from depression.

If you don’t have motivation, the days are more than a huge struggle, a grueling drag, a marathon race, a torture ground, long, hard, awful and just something you don’t want to have to force yourself through again, just because the stupid sun came up!

Sigh, groan, urgh, ahhh, really, why? Do I have to? I don’t think I can. How about later? I just need a bit more sleep. Maybe tomorrow, I’m just not up to it today. Nah I think it’ll wait til tomorrow.

Motivation is what gets us up in the morning. We’re motivated to get to work on time, eat a healthy breakfast, do well at our jobs, keep house, bring up nice, healthy children and because we have this motivation we do what it takes to get these things done. We don’t even think about motivation until we have to make an extra effort, like participate in a sporting event or study for exams. It just comes naturally.

But depression vacuums up every last inch of motivation, unplugs the dirt bag and buries it deep in the middle of a Mexican desert where you will NEVER, EVER find it EVER again.

It’s gone.

Done.

No more.

So instead of going about your business as you normally would, each and every tedious step takes your fullest energy and effort!

Getting up took all my effort, and was delayed to the last possible second or a bit longer. Showering exhausted me: stepping into the tub, standing up for that long, lifting my arms to wash myself. Getting dressed was a Herculean task! So many motions to go through!

Walking to the bus stop took so long since I was wading through thigh deep thick, sticky treacle, figuratively speaking. I slept as much as I could manage on that bus, the train, and the next bus. I grabbed a quick takeaway breakfast of the oily kind and tried to get to the morning handover on time. There were usually some missing minutes before the work day started.

sausage, egg, tomato

Breakfast of the oily kind!

From then on the aim was minimal physical effort, pure survival until morning tea break, until lunchtime, until afternoon tea, until home time. These breaks were my vital link to survival. I got to sit down, and eat. And just be by myself.

Then came the end of the day with the new aim of getting home ASAP and getting into bed and desperately trying to get enough rest for the next day. That never happened, I never felt rested enough the next morning. I started every day in a severe deprivation of rest. I had had exactly the amount of sleep I needed physically but the adrenaline racketting around my body made me feel continually at the limit and exhausted.

But do you know what? I believe that throughout that time I still operated at my usual level in my job. Nobody noticed that I was suffering badly. They didn’t notice that I was suffering at all. All throughout I made a lot of friends and collegues. My peer review rated well. My boss was very pleased with me. I knew I was doing a good job. I was a good pharmacist. My team was tight and I loved the group of pharmacists that I was in. I was keeping up appearances.

That’s what was showing on the outside, and am glad it was cos I loved that job and wanted to do my absolute best. And I feel that I did. Somehow.

All this despite all of this other stuff screaming and shrieking on the inside. Once or twice a week I went to my GP across the road and that was my outlet. There I could cry, sob, not be okay, hate my situation, complain, whinge, feel awful. And he was happy with that. In fact that’s what he wanted, that I could keep going elsewhere, even at home, but have at least that one outlet where there was no hiding, no pretending, no pushing on. Home was my other outlet, no pretence. Or so I thought. My husband says to this day that he had no idea of the extent of my illness. I guess keeping up appearances got to be a habit!

salad

Dinner I made in November 2013…must have gotten up some momentum! It wasn’t all bad news, and no wonder my hubby was fooled! Looking back at this photo, I’m fooled!

This, my friends, all of the above, is why when ANYONE ever suggests that I should “push through the barriers” or “make a bit of an effort” or “just try a bit harder”, my hackles rise, my respect for their understanding and knowledge bungee jumps off a cliff with no rope, and I from then on out try to avoid them as much as possible. Then. These days I try to educate them, but I give up quickly if I’m not making an progress. I don’t have the energy to waste.

Try a bit harder? Do you realise that I am constantly at the absolute limit of what I can physically, mentally, spiritually and everything else manage just to be here, out of bed, dressed, among other people, smiling and giving the general impression of being okay? No, of course you don’t. I know it may not look like it, or feel like it. In fact it probably looks the opposite, that I’m not doing very much at all. But to me, right now, I’m doing the very best that I’m capable of. So I smile harder and walk away.

Of course I’m talking mostly about the time before, during and after my diagnosis of generalised anxiety disorder, depression, and bipolar disorder. And the time following each of these when I started medication which was adjusted and added to and removed from and monitored. They were awful days. Not every day, and not all day, but in general they were just hard to get through! And they aren’t gone completely, but I have not had SUCH a bad day in many months now.

These days I’m doing better for motivation, still not back to my old high achieving self with good self care and standards of house keeping. But getting there. It has taken a LONG time to get back, about a year from when I first restarted antidepressants in December 2013 and has been greatly helped by starting lithium in May a year ago, which I still consider to be not only my life raft but the instrument of getting back to my old life. My life takes less thought, less meticulous planning and less energy and effort to conduct. I have reserves of energy that don’t get fully drained, and life is just more enjoyable because of that.

There are tricks and tips that I still have to use against myself. Making things non-negotiable by paying for a course because my inner coin counting self won’t accept waste. RSVPing to organised bike rides so everyone else is expecting me and will be let down if I don’t arrive. Making dates and times to meet people for lunch, coffee etc so that I have to go. Keeping going while I’m going, and doing just one more job, one more chore, tick one more thing off my to-do list before I sit down and don’t get up again.

bed, winter, ginger cat

Getting out of bed is harder. So I make my doctor’s appointment each fortnight at 10 or 11am so that I have to get up on time that day to get there on time, which is also non-negotiable because that GP saved my life more than once and I owe him my best effort. Any other appointments that I have I try to make in the morning also, for the same effect. Lately it has been easier because my miracle working psychiatrist, in one fell swoop, has erased all sedation and daytime drowsiness and sleepiness. So I actually wake up at the time that other adults wake up! Sometimes even earlier like 4 or 5am. And go back to sleep for a bit but often I’m wide awake by 8am or a bit earlier. So that greatly helps!

Showering. This is an issue. I don’t know why, but I just have such a hard time working myself up to getting in the shower! It’s gotten to the point of a serious aversion. My husband has to get the water running (no mean feat with our current plumbing) and frog march me in. Once I’m there its fine, not a problem at all. It’s the getting started that’s the problem. Which, in it’s essence, is what motivation is. The drive and momentum to getting things started. So there’s still a ways to go, but I have come a ways which is comforting.

Launching Place, rail trail, sign

Launching Place: sounds like a good place to start!