"Just" Depression

Yesterday I attended an orientation with the Vocational Rehab in my city. It was an overview of what I can do to earn money while still receiving Social Security Disabiliy.

We were encouraged to find something that will give us work within the number of hours allowed under the law and still receive the benefits. I thought, "what the heck? I thought Voc Rehab was supposed to aid you in getting OFF disability. That is my plan for the future anyway."

There was nothing brought up that I didn't already know from living in the last state I lived in but there was something that the presenter said that offended me. I can take all kinds of insults and let them roll off my back, but when it comes to my mental health I am a fighter. I'm an advocate for those with mental illness in any form and I try to educate those who do not personally have an illness. I honestly thought that when we came into the 21st century that the general public as well as physicians would be more enlightened than they surely are not. But for someone who works with Vocational Rehabilitation to make an uneducated remark, the presenter herself, I was offended.

It was at the end of the presentation and she was winding up and made the remark, "so whether you are physically disabled or just have depression, we can help you."

My own psychiatrist had to ask me about pain that I feel with depression. Severe clinical depression. I have come to the conclusion that I am somewhat different. I don't seem to fit in with the commercials, ads in magazines or even with my psychiatrist's definition of the pain of depression.

The counselor I met with after the orientation talked about pain of depression, forget the craziness of mania, we just talked about the depression side of it, and he made the observation that people with depression have body aches similar to fibromyalgia. This is where I am different.

My closest friends have not seen me at my worst. Only my husband, daughter and God are my witnesses, aside from in room cameras that capture images in the psych unit. In deep depression I double over in pain. I can hardly breathe, I beg God to take it away from me, I read my scriptures quickly out loud so I don't give a space inbetween words for any other thought to come into my head. The pain continues. It is gutteral major grief, except for one major difference. With grief, the pain which is excruciating comes in waves, whereas my pain is constant and I don't get relief except from sleeping, I open my eyes and the nightmare begins again.

This counselor had never heard it described in this way. My psychiatrist had never heard of it described in this way. Are there others out there who can relate to this?

The counselor said that when (or if) I get a job in a regular setting, that I didn't have to tell them anything, I don't have to tell them I have depression. So I said, "what kind of employer is going to keep my position open when I am hospitalized up to five times a year for a week at a time..that being my lowest, where a great amount of time I am "just" depressed and nearly unproductive?" He decided that the average workplace probably wouldn't work for me. So we are working on ideas that I can do at home.

I was going to sell my greeting cards, but after a feasiblility study determined the profit would be too minute to give me enough to replace my benefits. I have three other ideas: re-train in sign language interpretation, type term papers for college students since there are several colleges in the area, or go to Mr. John's college of cosmotology and become a nail technician. I think I could do the typing and the nail tech job. Both are self employment, and when I go into one of my grief periods I can step back for a time. The last two are short term goals the long term is being a certified sign language interpreter.

When I told my counselor what the presenter said, "just" depression, he said, "well that's why she's "just" a secretary.

Dear secretaries, are you offended?

Control Isssues

Being bi-polar for me is a matter of begging for mercy at times. Someone over the past few days asked if it was scary not knowing when I will have the next episode. It terrifies me. I know that I will read scriptures out loud, quickly, I will pray and have physical pain. Deep gutteral pain. There is little control in these instances. So when I am "sane" I have a need to control things. Things that I CAN control.

I discovered over the weekend that I have a need to carry a task out: preparing and cooking a dutch oven dessert from start to finish without assistance. My husband was helping me. I understand his need to help me with things he CAN help me with. I know that there is very little he can do in helping me OUT of depression. But tasks around the house I think he helps me with because he CAN.

Anyway, back to the weekend. My husband set out the pie filling, pineapple and I found the butter. I appreciated his getting these things out for me. He set out the charcoal and doused it with fire starter. I told him it needed to sit for about 20 minutes to really get soaked in. He wanted to start it right away, that would burn off the fumes too quickly. So he waited. I combined my ingredients in the dutch oven. He helped by opening some of the cans. That was fine. I started to feel a little cramped when I went to melt the butter over the campfire and he questioned, "why don't you just slice off pieces of butter and let it melt in the oven?" I hadn't thought of that. I had my own way of doing things and it was not his. I ended up slicing the butter. I have made this dish for, I don't know, nearly 30 years. I didn't need to be second quessed. I didn't appreciate his help, but now see it really was love he was showing me.

Before I had the chance, he was covering the lid with hot coals. He asked me about how many to put up there. 15. After about a half hour I went to check on its progress, I used the end of a crowbar to lift the lid, it didn't quite fit, so my husband went and got another utensil to lift the lid so he wouldn't get burned and I checked it. I had to quickly remind him to not let the coals fall into the dessert. It was done, The other cook needed some coals so I was going to take the dutch over over and let him have the coals off the top, onto his oven's top. My husband did that. He then took it to the picnic table and got it ready to serve. My stomach was in a knot. WHY? WHY couldn't I just let him do these things as a nice person and thank him?

Because it was my need to be in control of something. Something I really knew how to do. My life is a bit of chum waiting for the sharks of deep depression to get their teeth into me. I'm basically floating at sea not knowing when the next shark will strike. If the chum had arms it would be doing all that it could to...what? get away? How do you get away from a predator that you can't see and have no idea how close it is?

So, I wanted to complete the entire task by myself, all with my own two hands, start to finish. It is a weakness to not accept help. Accepting help blesses others who do the service. But to one who has a constant shark waiting to attack...please hand me some amunition! As long as I can do things for myself, I feel somewhat normal. This is why I have a hard time riding in a car with other people wanting to go and stop different places, I need an itinerary. I need to know what is going on, where we are going, when we'll get home. This is why I drive my car when a car pool is needed. Sometimes I just need to drive completely by myself, I miss out on the camaradarie, but I get to have my hands on the wheel and know I have an escape at any time..(but that is getting into the PTSD part of me.)

At the camp out I met a person who also suffers from bi-polar disorder. They didn't have the same need for control, wished for support in fact. And here I was WITH the support and not appreciating it. I later had a talk with my husband explaining my need to have some control over some things in my life. I'm trying to control my weight, it has crept up after losing 65 pounds. I'm up by 18 lbs. I'm working on it. That I have control over.

So I do what I can and mostly I am grateful for my husband's help. But leave the dutch oven and my driving up to me.