Something normal

One of the things that drives me in my depression is to live life as near to normal as possible - normal for me that is. Obviously I have to moderate my expectations to be consistent with my health situation and this can often lead to frustration. However, living as normally as possible is something that is growing in importance to me and each dose of normality is virtually like a drug at the moment. My ultimate dream for living a normal life is to once again be able to enjoy a strong coffee at times other than breakfast. Perhaps a cafe-latte with friends sometime after midday, or a late afternoon (or after work) capuccino, or even better a strong esspresso with a chocolate soufle one evening! It may seem absurd or high brow or petty that all I want from life is to drink coffee but for me it is a simple pleasure in life I used to share regularly with family and friends, without a second thought, and beacuse of my depression I can do it no longer. To me coffee after midday represents all those sacrifices and adjustments I have made for the benefit of my health that restrict my life and stop me living as I once used to. To me it represents, in a tangible and simple way, the pinnacle of living normally again.

I often sit and dream of being normal again. For the days to return when I can work regularly with confidence. For the days that I can interact normally with my family, friends, and my community and not have to be worried when I commit to a social engagement that i might have to pull out due to health (its happened three times in the last week alone). For those days where I have the strength of life within me to hold a job, be fully engaged in the lives of my wife and daughter, and have energy left to do the things I enjoy with friends or on my own. Unfortunately it remains a dream for the moment.

I have a normal episode in my life coming up. I am going away for a weekend break with my family. Thankfully I organised most of it about 6 weeks ago - 2 weeks before my severe relapse. I put the finishing touches on it in the last 4-5 days. I can't wait to do what for me is the normal thing. When I say "normal" it is still a modified "normal" to meet the restrictions of my health but its as close as it gets at the moment and I can almost taste the normality. If I am doing really well with being normal I may even do most of the driving but time will tell. Until I return in few days cherish your normality - I know I will be.

The day after therapy

Having canned my psych for having little counselling benefit yesterday I have to eat my words. He was brilliant. When I spoke to him two weeks ago I was in the depths of an acute episode of depression. I had confided in him that I was pre-suicidal at that time. By that I mean I was in the depths of not being able to look after my daughter, my family, or myself and I started to feel there was little point to life - I was questioning the value of living. I was not thinking about killing myself but it was only one step before having those thoughts. This scared me because I have never felt this way before. Over the past five years I have had severe depression with all the symptoms (I think there's officially 10 or 11) except suicidal thoughts and ongoing thoughts about death. Well they came this last month and they came hard. My psych, who had given me follow up calls, pager access, etc., followed up in yesterdays appointment with some great counsel to ensure that I was able to reflect and handle those times of difficulty should they recur. It was the most effective counsel I had received from him ever. We also tweaked the dose of my medication as I had hoped and we were both optimistic that there would be a strong benefit by this change in regime.

I also organised pastoral counselling for today. That went really well. In the past I have found pastoral counselling invaluable. My last pastoral counsellor left to live over seas about three months ago so today was the first involvement of a pastoral counsellor for quite some time and it was well worth the effort. For me the thing that lays broken or aching throughout my depression is my 'soul'. Having the right pastoral counsellor during depression is an integral part of my recovery strategy to address the 'soul' issues. Consequently the pastoral counsellor is a key part of the 'team' I have assembled to see me through to recovery.

Over time I want to put some more juicy detail of the depression episodes on here as I know it is infinitely more interesting. I will do this as new episodes occur. However, as things settle down over the next week I will perhaps start writing some reflections of key experiences I have encountered throughout my depression. I will perhaps also post some reflections on tough times of the soul. The sad thing about blogging this information is that there is a lot of material to choose from!

Therapy day

One of the most humiliating experiences with my depression was agreeing to see a psychiatrist. I felt so useless that I needed a 'head-wrecker' to help me - it grated harshly against my proud independent nature. I am still not 100% convinced of the therapeutic benefit as counsellor but my psychiatrist is a critical part of the team that supports me. If nothing else he is an expert with daily experience of seeing the mentally ill and his reflections and assessments of my situation are a key part of the information and therapeutic process aimed at getting me back on my feet.

Anyway, today I see my psych. It's a follow up on an 'emergency' appointment from a couple of weeks ago when I was in the depths of an acute depressive episode that lasted about 4 weeks (fyi - the worst of it lasted 1-2 weeks and it was in this period that I saw the psych). I can at least report that I am stable although sleepless. I might try and talk about juggling the medication a little - perhaps increasing a dose.

A sleepless night

Of all the symptoms of depression that I face the one that disrupts my life most consistently at the moment is sleeplessness. I do suffer acute epsiodes of depression that severely impact my life - and let me stress 'severely impact my life' - mercifully, however, these are becoming less frequent. But for day in day out challenges that I face that just niggle away and never leave me in peace, sleeplessness is the most consistent. It is a serious battle to overcome it.

Tonight I didn't win. But for the first week in about four months I have spent more time in bed of a night than on the couch - so the battle is changing in my favour. Its not so much the sleeplessness that bothers me. Sleeplessness is a sign that all's not well but it is the compromises to lifestyle to accomodate my sleeplessness that impacts me the most.

If I don't sleep it means I can't go to bed with my wife because I keep her awake as long as I'm unsettled in the bed. This robs us of time together. Intimate time, not just sex, but quietly enjoying each other's company before drifting off for a refreshing nights sleep.

It means I'm prone to being grumpy and jet-lagged and I haven't even been overseas to compensate the inconvenience.

If I don't sleep at night it means I sleep in through to late morning or early afternoon. This not only perpetuates the problem by making it a habit but it also means that I miss the joy of waking with my family, and they miss me. So none of us get to have breakfast as a family.

This morning, however, was the first time in about a month that I was up just after breakfast and was able to watch TV with my daughter after breakfast (her favourite shows are miffy and bananas in pyjamas) and then read her stories and nursery rhymes. But I still wasn't able to have breakfast with them all.

Sleeplessness also means drinking de-caf lattes after midday! And whilst this may sound petty this represents those many adjustments to the quality of living that need to be made to accommodate depression and its symptoms. I could just as easily have said I can no longer read a stimulating book after 9pm, or attend a party after 11 - as these too will make me vulnerable to the snowballing syptom of insomnia.

I even took the larger half of my newly prescribed sleeping medicine to minimise the risk of insomnia tonight but it wasn't to be tonight.

I hate this depression and I hate its symptoms.

Why Blog?

I have set up this blog purely for its therapeutic benefits - for me, and perhaps for others too. You see, I am one of many people throughout the globe who have had their lives disrupted with depression. This insidious disease has cut me down in my prime and each day is a battle for my soul's survival. I often write privately in MS Word when days are tough but I think it might be better to blog. Hopefully there will be some benefit to others who suffer depression or whose loved ones suffers with it - understanding the sufferer is as big a challenge as facing the depression itself.

I commit to blog honestly about what is going on in my mind, even if its ugly - as facing the painful truth has more purpose than the pain that comes with denial.

Till I blog again ...

First Blog - the 'Black Dog'

I have been diagnosed with depression for 5 years now (since 1999) and I am currently facing the tail end of my second depressive episode, this time of 18+ months. Depression has stolen much of my life recently: my career, my income, my car, and the normality of life I was once acquainted with. It is not all doom in my story though as I have been able to maintain a reasonably stable marriage and take on much of the primary care of my two year old daughter (although depression has robbed too much of this as well).

After five years I am finally beginning to understand the subtleties of my depression. The anger, frustration, and grief, while not gone, are no longer as overwhelming as they once were and there is room now for greater exploration of emotions and solutions to my situation. I have rallied a committed team of family, friends, and professionals to support me as well. But for all the support of my 'team' and for all the management of my emotional state there is no substitute for the will and desire to overcome this insidious disease. There is usually a daily battle with the demons of depression that in many ways define you as a person. Those experienced with this illness will understand how near to impossible it can be to ward off these demons, or the 'black dog' as Churchill explained it - when facing an acute episode/relapse of depression. But I live and learn .... and now blog it.

This blog is my story with the black dog. Please feel free to comment on any of the posts. While it is my habit to write more often when I am too unwell to do anything else (except perhaps read) I hope to post successes and meaningful experiences as they eventuate as well. And, dare I dream, even to blog the path the leads me out of the depression wilderness.