Black Dog Days

The mystery of change

2006-07-05T00:37:00.000+10:00

Although its late for me (ie. after midnight) the most rapid reversal yet to occur with my depression has taken place. Two days ago I couldn't sleep and couldn't get out to collect the mail. Last night I had the first decent night's sleep (in about a month) and earlier today I managed a project, negotiated a settlement of terms to a financial situation (on behalf of a friend travelling overseas), undertook some home duties, nursed a sick 3yr old daughter, and caught up with a good friend in the evening! Easy!

How things change. Whilst I have had hypo-manic reactions in the past (ie. manic symptoms) this was not it. It was a rapid return to normality.

I know in general my health is on the mend - my energy and mood is evening out. But I still suffer.

I don't care why anymore. I don't care how anymore. I'm not angry and bitter about the world or God or the universe anymore. I don't regret or grieve for my life anymore. I don't even care to reconcile the daily/weekly/monthly changes in my health anymore. I am simply living my life to the fullest that my health will let me - warts and all. No regrets.

A Long Time

2006-07-01T03:58:00.000+10:00

Well it's been a long time since I updated this site and a lot of water has travelled under the bridge.

Bottom line is that although I have had periods of pretty good health the bastard of a condition known as depression has walked beside me daily for the last 12+ months.

Much of my inactivity on this site has been the result of not having the energy to update it due to my involvement in part time management work - and since January this year the birth of my second child (which is a small miracle because depression usually kills my libido).

I am back on here again because life with depression is giving me serious grief. I have had worse attacks over the last 12 months but this has been the most prolonged and most frustrating (and my minimal energy reserves can be used to carry out the ongoing documentation of my battle with depression).

The basic update is I have had a patchy, but promising, 12 months. The most pressing drama has been in the last 3-4 weeks. What began as insomnia has escalated to somnolency (i recently slept 30 hrs out of 36) only to return again to serious insomnia. On its own it was ok but it has dragged in the disinterest of life, lethargy, melencholy, loss of libido and questions on the point of living - many of the keys of serious depression. One thing I have learned after a solid four months of relkatively good health is that depression for me is a never ending battle even when I think the end is near.

The upside of the current circumstances is that I no longer pair the failure of my health with the failure of myself and self hate. I find it a little more like a rollercoaster ride that has the occasional up turn but a shit load of down hill action. i no longer feel responsible for or guilty about my behaviour when I'm depressed in this way (as long as I can look in the mirror and know that the guy staring back at me is doing everthing they can to overcome it).

Having seen the light of recovery over the last three - four months (where I was performing home duties superbly well and beginning a serious home project to manage) the last few weeks of serious depression has been a bitter pill to swallow. Having tasted again the fleeting feat of normality I almost want to feel better at any cost - including 'extra prescription medications' if you get my meaning. Thankfully I have good friends who help me maintain strength against these futile and destructive desires.

In the end the loss of control over my life is no longer a surprise - but it doesn't make it easier. It's just bump in the road to be ridden over but I still get the shit shaken out of me when it happens.

As I write now I have moderately over medicated myself to numb the pain (purely doctor's prescription). This has been supplemented (on my own initiative by a few choice drinks of hard liquor. please note: THIS IS NOT A RECOMMENDATION OF HOW TO COPE AND I WOULD ADVISE NOONE TO FOLLOW THIS EXAMPLE. I only write it here as an honest representation of how I am coping and to elighten reader of just one of the responses I have to my immediate frustrations - and i presume what other people would feel in the same circumstances.

I expect there's more to come shortly in this site. i haven't forgotten some of the key topics I still want to address from previousa posts. They are are as alive and dear to me as they were when I flagged them. It's a matter of time and energy which many of you would know is at a premium in the midst of depression.

Update-comment spammers suck

2005-10-06T01:58:00.000+10:00

I have been forced back on my blog by advertising being spammed to my comments section. Anyway, it was about time I posted something to it. Hopefully I will now be inspired to write a couple more of the episodes I had planned to.

I have actually had a life of two-three parts since I left my last post. One of utter depression and one of hypomania. No - I am not bipolar, but an over-correction of my medication caused me to peak a little too much! With a little extra tweak on the meds i have managed to get on quite well and have been quite productive and busy... so busy in fact that I have been unable to get back and post!

Anyway, thanks to those who sent messages of encouragement - I do receive them gratefully (but know that you make me feel really guilty for not keeping up the pace of the earlier posting - I'm kidding).

When this blog starts earning money for me (this is not an invivtation for spammers to tell me how to make a million by giving it to them first) I might then be able to get on a little more often and post all the anguish of my heart and provide the sage insights that I know people want to read. If that fails I might just write as I did before with some fresh updates into the life of a (formerly?) depressed man.

My final thought:
Even if depression dogs me for my entire life it will not master me because I will never surrender.

Tribute

2005-07-29T12:24:00.000+10:00

Sitting beyond a window

2005-07-25T15:43:00.000+10:00

This entry is based on a pair of experiences on my loungeroom chair this afternoon just half an hour apart.

Sitting beyond a window.
Blue sky roaming, sun beam warming,
Flower blooming, life is moving,
Not lost on him beyond the window
Yet lost as if it surely were.

Sitting beyond a window.
Sky is storming, wind is blowing,
Leaves are scattered, life is battered
Not lost on him beyond the window
Earth mockingly well aimed it's dart.

From a Psalm of David

2005-07-25T15:27:00.000+10:00

Deliver me, O God,
for the water has reached my neck.
I sink into the deep mire
where there is no solid ground;
I am in deep water,
and the current overpowers me.
I am exhausted from shouting for help;
my throat is sore;
my eyes grow tired of looking for my God.

Psalm 69:1-3 (NET Bible)

Reply - reflections on hope

2005-07-18T01:19:00.000+10:00

This post is a reply to comments left in "Trial By Terror". For context you should read that first. I wrote a little too much for a comment so I put it here.

It is true (and not crass) that having a child puts a higher cost on abandoning hope as well as giving hope itself a greater value (perhaps through it having a physical object to identify with). My daughter (and wife) through whatever means definitely take me to a place where I virtually 'have to hope'. While I am fighting with all my strength to hold on to my life and on to my hope, and doing quite well most of the time with it - even though my health has been quite appalling lately - I don't think I am beyond the capacity of losing hope just because I have a child, or a wife, or any other object or means of supporting that hope. Unfortunately there are common enough examples of persons with children and loved ones who abandon hope and succumb to the darkest fantasies of despair and I don't think that I am intrinsically more capable of holding on to hope than these.

I have actually thought quite a lot about hope since being depressed, and again more recently after reading trial by terror, and I do think hope is something that can be built, nurtured, and maintained. Whatever the 'process of hope' it is definitely not the path of least resistance so is, by default, at times inconvenient and at others damn near impossible!

For me there are three powerful foundations in my life that sustains and maintains my ability to hope.

My family (wife and child) - they are an unfailing inspiration to my determination to get better and be as well as possible in the midst of my depression (ironically they also cause me the greatest grief, especially at those times when my depression is the worst, because I know that my illness traumatises them and places a burden on their lives that noone should have to carry and that I can't bare to see them carry). They actually have to do nothing to underpin my hope. The fact that they tolerate me and even give me a kind word or look when I am at my worst is amazing beyond understanding. When occasionally (and this is rarely) I receive a cruel word or glance from them how can I hold it against them as they naturally get frustrated (or confused in my daughters case) and are burdened with something they are not compelled to endure. Ties like this certainly give me something to live for both in way of inspiration to me and also with a desire to repay the faith and love that they have extended to me.

My friends/supporters - I have a few of these that support me at all times but especially when I am at my most vulnerable, as I am coming out of a deep dark place. In the depths of depression I find I get frustrated, angry, agitated, numb, feelingless, my mind doesn't work, I can't concentrate, I barely eat or sleep (or over eat and sleep often), have dark thoughts, barely move 20m in a day (a couple of toilet stops and the occasional fridge stop) etc. A place where I am too far caught up in the illness and can exist only in the immediacy of my depression's depths. As I come out of the worst of this my mind begins to straighten out and my activity begins to increase slowly. I soon get enough breathing space from the illness and am able to reflect on my depression and the impact it has on my life and my loved ones. I do this though with a weakened mind that easily gets drawn into speculation about ultimate recovery, or about feeling cheated by another episode of depression, or with certitude about my lack of worth, or get hooked about some crazy scheme to restore some of the things I have lost in my life due to illness - money, usefulness, routine, normality, or just a little further on I become lucid enough to hate myself for what I am as measured by my symptoms (a do nothing slob that can't think or eat or shower or add value to another's life - especially to those who endure his frightful presence in these times). It is at this point that my friends are like gold. I have simply made an agreement with myself (with the support of a few close friends/supporters) that no matter what I am going through as soon as I am well enough to be at this point I will call them and let them know. They reassure me, deconstruct the false conclusions about my worth or about my burdens that only my distorted mind is capable of drawing. They reaffirm my value to themselves as friends and speak on behalf of my family. They reconstruct hope in my thinking where the disease of depression had previously wrought havoc. The fact they do this spares my wife from being faced with the pressures of my darkest mind when it requires energy and strength to fight against it on my behalf - this too makes me want to live for my friends. If my friends think it's worth fighting for my life and my family then I can certainly use their judgement. It gives me hope that people are willing to spend time and energy on me - even when I am at my worst - there has to be a message of hope in that. But it doesn't end their with my friends. They also tolerate my need to be 'normal' and do what they can to do 'normal' things with me when I improve a little more. It doesn't matter if I am not well enough to engage the rest of the world they will meet me for coffee, watch a dvd with me, talk about sport or politics or religion or any interest or just sit silently with my, virtually any place any time just to give me an experience of normality when ordinarily I am not well enough to be normal. To glimpse that light at the end of the tunnel brings hope.

Faith/God - This is a worldview/ideological advantage as well as a practical one. From the beginning my faith tells me that I am not a biological or cosmological accident but a being with value, meaning, and purpose - immediately this is a reason to hope and live regardless of my circumstances. It provides me with comfort through prayer (although unanswered prayers become a challenge from time to time), through reading of texts that relate to my situation with a message of hope, and through the tool of faith itself that provides an avenue to hope when rationality can't (basically a belief in the unseen even in the midst of doubt).

I hadn't intended to write this much in reply (I often won't reply to posts - not because I don't essentially want to but because I don't want correspondence to be a burden that turns me away from logging on to my site and reading it if I need to or feeling obliged to reply before I write a post I think it's important for me to write). But I had been thinking about hope and I had intended to jot a couple of additional things to my last comments. I have forgotten a little of what I was going to say (as my mind is getting a little tired after writing the above) but it was along the lines of the disaster it would be to have hope become an anathema by virtue of embracing it as something that keeps one going just sufficiently to suffer more in the future. It's enough that hope is shattered by setbacks in health without it becoming something to fear and despise of itself.

Trial By Terror

2005-07-13T06:41:00.000+10:00

" ... the steady battering of the mind by hope aroused and cast down could be more punishing and destructive than truncheon or rubber hose crashing against skull or jaw."

Paul Gallico, Trial By Terror

I recently read the book from which the aforementioned quote was sourced. It was the story of a vigorous young man (Jimmy) in his prime who was captured by secret police behind the "Iron Curtain" during the cold war. The story gave an account of how Jimmy's soul and will was broken down by psychological means (fairly easily in the end) and left him as a broken mind in a still hearty shell of flesh. His ultimate fate was to falsely testify against himself in a public court as a western spy - fully believing his guilt. Whilst I have read novels I have liked much better the parallells I saw between Gallico's story of Jimmy and my own experience with depression were quite interesting.

The quote itself was the punchline following a series of ploys from the interrogators to keep Jimmy on edge and uncertain about his case. Jimmy would be brought in for questioning from complete isolation randomly, arbitrarily. The key to his torture in this was his not knowing when the isolation would be broken. His agony was increased by anticipation of his case progressing - especially when confronted by familiar cues of hope eg. guards walking past etc - only to be left alone and waiting again. The combination of these and other psychological events did much to break his spirit and hope and left him vulnerable to a false truth constructed wholly by his interogators.

Immediately I read this section I recognised the parallels with my depression. The waiting in hope of a breakthrough in my health, the uncertainty of when the next period of recovery will take place, the familiar footsteps of normality echoing in my ear only to pass me by, cruelly, taunting me with the promise of normality but leaving it yet again unfulfilled, the battle to remain hopeful of a recovery in my depression - or at least for a break in my health where it is reliably manageable - and life as 'normal' resumed again.

The uncertainty, and the taunting nature of my illness, has at times worn down my will and terrorised my soul with impending doom, utter hopelessness and despair, and growing desperation. In these times I have been tempted by (and have at times succumbed to) falsely constructed realities. "My life has no value" "Liquor will numb my pain" "Gambling can provide a replacement income" "Amphetamines (speed) will pick me up out of my depression" "My death will please those for whom I am a burden". And others less dramatic. "There's no point in trying" "You'll always be like this" "You're not really sick - just lazy and good for nothing".

Many of these sound completely ridiculous when phrased as above especially when considered in times of a clearer mind. But these phrases, like the Sirens voices, embody an irresistable reality when being terrorised by the uncertainties of depression and its cycle.

In parallell with Gallico's assessment I think much of the power of my 'trial by terror' is the constant uncertainty of my health coupled with the breakdown of hope. There is not much I am able to do with the uncertainties of depression except develop undying patience - the quest continues. The constant uncertainty makes me vulnerable to unfair assessments of myself and other false realities but works most strongly against the hope of recovery (or hope of reliably managing my depression).

Fighting against the breakdown of hope is a battle I must renew often and thankfully is one I keep ahead of most of the time - thanks to supportive family and friends.

The flashlight

2005-07-02T13:33:00.000+10:00

Did you ever have a torch with dirty contacts or a dodgy set of wiring? You know the type that doesn't work properly. You'll switch it on and it will work. You move to shine the beam to a point of interest and the movement disturbs the continuity of electrical current from the battery to the globe and the beam flickers and dies. You shake the torch and hit it. The beam responds to the bursts of energy wrought upon it by the owner. At each crescendo of effort in the shaking and beating the torch the beam brightly flickers in the darkenss. It dazzles but only momentarily. A few gentler shakes follow and aha! You've found a position where the beam is emitted continuously from the torch through the dark - but dimly. You move the beam to different targets ever so slowly and gently to keep the circuit of the torch intact (what a ridiculous sight to an onlooker). You keep searching different targets with the beam that is left. You fool! You made a false move, or at least moved at normal pace, and the beam dies. You shake your torch and beat it and bang it violently but the more you abuse it the less often and less brightly it flickers. Is the torch good for anything? In this case it has to suffice as there is no provision to purchase another one. Can it be repaired? Much work can be done on it but so far there has been no fix for it. Perhaps one day it will spontaneously regenerate.

Borderline

2005-06-02T09:24:00.000+10:00

Another few weeks have past since I last posted and I have only just got my health back on something approximating an even keel (I think). The signs are there that I am finally getting through this current set back but I don't know for sure. I get sick of asking "how long will it last?" and "why?" and am simply resigned to pressing forward as best I can one day at a time. I live in hope that my health will turn more permanently for the better but suffice to say I am continuing to live as best I can and am definitely not holding my breath for major improvement!

Most of the last few weeks I have been living on the borderline between somewhat normal function and serious depression. I have increased my medication by another 20% which I think has kept me from sliding hopelessly into another major episode. But as I have mentioned it is still a day at a time.

I have spent a lot of my time over the last few weeks sleeping - up to 16 hours/day. I have been feeling totally exhausted. The minimum of effort expended has resulted in an unusually high level of tiredeness. The increase in medication may have contributed something to my somnolosence but the improvement in the quality of my waking moments has been a more than worthwhile payoff. It is just as likely that the tiredeness is a result of my illness as the medication but even if this is not the case it's been worth having this side effect as my waking hours have been of a much higher quality compared to the weeks prior to increasing my dose. On balance I am less unhappy than happy.

With good management of my waking time and energy I have been able to achieve quite a bit while on the borderline. I have managed to fulfill my role at home with my wife and daughter and keep my chores mostly up to date. I have done some management work too (but have only managed half my target hours of 8-10/week). I also spent last weekend acting in and producing a short film. Pretty good really, perhaps even a minor miracle, considering the level of health I am actually possessed of at the moment.

Overall it's been a tough few weeks and perhaps the thing I have come to appreciate most is the impact my outlook can have on my quality of life. I am no where near 100% health but have managed to achieve quite a lot this last month. If I had this level of setback in my health previously I probably would not have achieved the results I have this last few weeks. Lowering my expectations on what I can be (compared to normal eg. sleepwise, energy, feelings of wellbeing etc) and making the most of what I do have (rather than worrying about what I am missing) seems to have been an important part of piecing together my depression puzzle when on the borderline.

Finally an update - trouble and support

2005-05-10T23:25:00.000+10:00

I can't believe it's been three months since I updated this blog. I was flat out with work for the first six-eight weeks and then I was out of action more or less for the last four.

One thing I am still very keen to do is update this blog with more recounting of my experiences - if only for myself to read and be mindful of. Even now I am still deceived when I feel a little bit tired when actually I am suffering the effects of a depressive episode. I feel so stupid sometimes promising that I will be able to do something after a rest only to find no amount of rest cures what I am facing. The frustration is that it is still important for me to pick the right moments to push things. If I go too hard too soon I end up getting worse symptoms and becoming less reliable. But I have to say once I figured out that I was in a down cycle of my depression I was much better at managing the symptoms and recovery.

The thing that has frustrated me most over the last few months, especially with the last down turn in my depression, is the impact its having on my wife. It's heart breaking to see her struggling with the helplessness of having a depressed partner when she rightly gets frustrated and tired of facing these circumstances. It became quite a serious issue in our marraige recently and we've had to work hard at talking things through and keeping our feelings and love for each other strong.

I thank God that I have such an amazing wife who is sticking things out 'in sickness and in health'. It would be such a relief and so very easy to walk away.

This is probably an opportune time to remember the poem I wrote for my wife on our last wedding anniversary:

Anniversary of Hope
Dark are the years of our recent life
With love tested to its ultimate.
We have learned to survive on the smallest spark;
But its floodlights we seek,
Or the Sun,
Or galaxies of Light
To warm us and show us through.

It would probably do me good to remember the hope that I actually have in my relationship with my wife because I have been battling to see my personal worth within my family. The pressure of these times has had me wondering whether or not my family would be better off without me. And I soon after moved to questioning the point of living. It got particularly difficult a couple of weeks ago where I had to ring a couple of my supportive mates late into the night to set me straight. It's hard for me to admit to people that I am not coping but it's sometimes harder to realise that I am a needed member of the family - especially when so much of my engagement in the family is a drain. It's kind of weird to want at the same time to be with your family and give them your all yet at the same time want to spare them from the heartache you bring and remove yourself from their lives.

Another sleepless night

2005-02-15T04:34:00.000+11:00

Managing my depression is becoming a frustration again. I feel very well except for the fact I can't sleep at night. My motivation and drive is good, my concentration and agitation of mind is worse than 'normal' but manageable, but my sleep is really suffering. I am going great with work but I can't see how I can sustain the level of quality without much sleep.

Hmm ... what to do ... I think I'm going to keep my meds up at 2 1/2 tabs daily and push myself a little harder than I have in the past. Previously when I've pushed I have crashed but I might take a bit of a chance on it with the additional medication constant. I can usually see or feel the depression coming (although last time I didn't). It's worth a try anyway.

Doh!

2005-02-12T00:45:00.000+11:00

Well I finally figured out what was going on with my depression and why. It was all medication related.

Had been experimenting with doses of my SSRI after finding 2 tabs were not enough and 2.5 were too much (an extra .5 tab every 2nd day did the trick). After being well for a while I just forgot to take the extra half every other day and after 2-3 weeks of neglect it got me!

I have been much better today but am still getting my sleep back on track. Hopefully that will settle over the next two or three days.

Sometimes I do the stupidest things.

Not Again!

2005-02-10T23:33:00.000+11:00

It's interesting after all the experience I have had with depression in my life it could once again slip under my guard. I'm not even in the clear with my existing episode and I still couldn't detect a relapse in my health for a couple of weeks. I wasn't avoiding it or in denial I was just telling myself that I was a little bit run down, a little tired from a busy couple of weeks, when actually I was sliding ignorantly back into depression. The subtle differences of depression and run down normality (if any) remain unclear even when I'm vigilant.

Anyhow, I finally figured it out on Monday when all I wanted to do was sleep. Same for Tuesday and Wednesday (FYI - both night and day). I managed not to sleep throughout the day today so that's some kind of bonus - but now I can't sleep at night! Seems like its feast or famine with my sleep at the moment.

Sleep patterns have been a pretty reliable sign of how I am travelling with my depression. It usually starts with too much (up to 16+ hours a day) then suddenly switches to insomnia. And then the insomnia lingers night after night. It's probably been six months since I was able to sleep on time (before midnight) without medication but at least for most of the last few months my sleep was stable until now (the odd exception notwithstanding).

It's hard to know what to do differently. I am doing pretty much everything I can. I am frustrated daily about taking sleepers and wish I didn't have to but I have little choice if my lifestyle is to fit in with my family's and with the work I am doing.

Perhaps its time to try lithium treatment (I am currently on SSRI's) and see what that does for my depression? But my mood seems pretty stable compared to previous months so the efficacy of a change like that is uncertain and may even be unwarranted.

Whatever the outcome just know I am screaming on the inside - "aaarrrggh - not again!"

New Year Update

2005-01-20T01:37:00.000+11:00

Well it has been a while between posts this time round but I have just been so flat out with work and staying on top of home life that I haven't been able to get here to write. I can say the recovery is steady although it seems to have plateaued for the moment. I now need to be very careful about managing my time and involvement in things very tightly to ensure I can cope with the rigours of my now semi-rigorous life.

Helathwise I have had a mini crash for one day in the first week of the new year. This came on top of stepping up to a 20 hour a week work commitment, Christmas, a temporary move of residence to a holiday destination, and a weekend of guests over the new year period. Pretty active no question. But after that crash I bounced back quickly and had no further dramas until this last week where I had a nasty little cold/flu/virus which increased my vulnerability to the depression symptoms. So here I am after 1am doing an update! In all it has caused me to miss one day of work, miss 4-5 days of home duties, and throw my sleep out - its the depression symptoms for sure but its due to the cold making me a little more vulnerable.

The good thing has been I have been able to remain fairly upbeat despite this little setback in my health. I am getting a little frustrated with myself and not being able to fulfill my roles at home and in the work place but this is nowhere near the elevated levels I have faced in the past and I am very much at peace with myself at the same time.

I can now say more confidently that the optimism I had that the worst of my depression had passed is proving to be well founded. I am feeling this way depsite some of the setbacks along the way. From a perspective that had been quite bleak for most of 2004 I am feeling quite optimistic about 2005.

I am still bursting on the inside to have the time and energy to write about the things that I floated in my december posts but I am just unable to do that. I just can't be confident of managing my active roles in the work force and at home as well as keeping up the pace of writing that I had in the final months of 2004.

A parting thought:
Now that I have the necessary support around me (family, friends, medical, pastoral etc.) and have been able to stabilise the feeling of crisis in my life with their help I am finding more and more that I have to consciously manage my energy levels as this now seems to have the largest bearing on my well being.

A false alarm

2004-12-25T01:36:00.000+11:00

Well its early christmas morning and this is take two (a temporary power failure wiped a couple of paragraphs but I should be able to recapture the jist of it). I am currently unable to sleep and am full of pills - sleepers, anti-depressants, paracetamol, nurofen, codeine (all legitmate and recommended doses). Anyway, not bad for someone who hates taking medicine but I had just been feeling so awful. I have just now gone from having chills to breaking out in a sweat and the sweat is literally just dripping off me.

Anyway, I had been looking forward all week to a christmas eve with the inlaws as the food is always amazing (and they're not too bad either). Through the whole week of work my sight had one eye on this festive prize and I arrived feeling a little drained. I had worked hard in my new role yesterday (and the preceeding weeks) and finished all the urgent and important tasks that were needing completion so I could enjoy the Christmas break - including the boxing day holiday test match (a major local sporting event).

For someone in my circumstances feeling a bit flat was only normal but about one hour into the evening I started to break down. My head was weak, I couldn't concentrate, I started to feel physically ill, and every minor thing seemed like a massive chore (even helping myself to a wonderful glass of Australian red wine which I didn't end up finishing).

I soon realised what was happening because the symptoms were so familiar. But before I could isolate myself I had ended up in the centre of a conversation with three other people that I just couldn't politely escape from. With a great Christmas atmosphere the discussion just took on a life of its own and I was fading fast. I could literally feel the life draining out me and as I had some special knowledge on the topic of conversation I was unable to sit politely nodding on the sidelines. I sure didn't want to offend our family guests (as these were nice people).

Anyway, after about 20 minutes of this my head was totally gone. I was putting up a brave effort but couldn't have held out much longer. I was saved by the announcement of the opening of the presents ceremony and was summoned with everyone else to the Christmas tree. In moving to the the area I found the most isolated place to be present.

During this short respite I began to have a minor (non-pathological) panic about what I thought work had done to me. The thoughts of 'here we go again with the depression' were at the forefront of my mind. However, the normal commotion of the gift giving was unbearable and after several minutes I left discreetly and took a walk outside in the fresh air but eventually ended up in a bedroom to lie down.

During this time I just tried to clear my head and I also prayed a desperate prayer. I was pretty scared about where this was heading. Anyway, with this break from the group things did settle down for me and I was able to rejoin the end of the gift giving. I had missed my daughter receiving her presents which was really dissapointing and I also missed my own gifts which alerted people to my absence. Thankfully noone asked me what was up because I would have been a little embarassed.

Anyway, I coped after that and faded in and out of conversation as my head would allow. But I was patchy in my head and irratable inside the whole time and even now a little bit.

The good news is it wasn't the depression. At least I'm really confident it wasn't. Whilst I exhibited all the symptoms of my previous depression I think in the end it was due to some other illness. It became apparent on return home that I was not quite right. I had a headache and a very sore throat and when I took my temperature at home I had a fever. It is likely that I have caught something from my daughter as she had these exact symptoms twice over the last month when she came down with tonsilitis. It seems like the depression symptoms were a flase alarm - for my depression anway.

Finally, I never thought I would be happy the day I had tonsilitis. I never thought I could wish so much to have it either.

A week already

2004-12-21T21:42:00.000+11:00

Well things have been flying on the work front and I can hardly believe a week's gone by since I last posted something on here. I've spent the best part of 20 hours on managing and implementing a project for March/April next year - and have stood up to it well. I have also been able to look after my daughter for all the usual time except for one day AND stay a good companion for my wife - so the life balance has been maintained.

Hopefully I will have time very soon to update some of my reflections on my recent episode of depression. A good option would probably be the impact on marraige, companionship, and romance in depression.

I've got so many ideas but no longer as much time to write. Hang in there though - this blog/journal is weighed heavily on my heart and I want to continue updating at every opportunity.

To what can I liken the life of depression?

2004-12-15T09:54:00.000+11:00

Consider a merchant vessel on a journey at sea. This ship is by no means a supertanker but is a functional, profitable, sea-worthy vessel. As it happens its current voyage is its first fully laden voyage but this is a ship built well for its purpose. The seas are no more difficult than usual and, having left port some weeks ago, it is apparent that there are prosperous times ahead for this ship.

While out at sea the ship inexplicably begins to take on water. The bilge pumps are manned and keep pace for a while. The intake of water soon increases and outpaces the capacity of the bilge pumps to cope. A crisis looms in the ship. Cargo is thrown overboard. First the heaviest and least expensive objects are discarded and this ship's stability and bouyancy are maintained. But water continues to be taken and more precious cargo now must be discarded. Valuables of all kinds are thrown wastefully overboard to ensure the survival of the ship and its crew. Soon there is no cargo left to discard and the water continues to invade.

At this point the bilge pumps are working flat out. The ship is losing bouyancy and stability with the more water it takes. Soon the flood is overwhelming and the over-taxed bilge pumps begin to fail, one by one, until all break down and there is no outlet for the invading sea.

The ship is now entirely awash. Power fails, steering is dead, and the once proud ship is in danger of capsizing and sinking listlessly to the bottom of the sea. By some sroke of fortune the ship remains afloat but its deck is on the waterline. All stability in the vessel is gone and it bobs like a cork in the sea. And it continues to bob with decks all awash, in storm and in calm weather, in typhoon and in gale. The ship hangs on to the surface but there is no source of rescue for the ship and its crew within sight.

Quick update

2004-12-14T19:42:00.000+11:00

Currently I am teetering on the boarder of illness and well being. I am fairly active at the moment and I continue to push the limits of my energy. I can sustain a low level normal paced life with only having the side effect of exhaustion - which isn't bad comparitively with what I have been used to.

Things have ramped up with work. I completed 10 hours in the last week alone which is unheard of for me these days. I think last time I gave detail of work I had done nine hours in three weeks. It seems as though I am coming on in leaps and bounds. My tolerance for pushing the boundaries of my health has risen dramatically.

This current comeback has left me unusually busy and I am struggling to put the time I wish into my blog. I am prioritising my management business above my writing but I long to write and hope to keep a similar pace to what has been the norm these last couple of months.

General update - health and career

2004-12-11T11:12:00.000+11:00

I can say that I did bounce back as expected on Thursday and have not looked back. A few points of interest in my health and career are worth noting.

Health
Although I crashed on Monday afternoon/evening through to the end of Wednesday it was not the same crash in health that I had been accustomed to. I was certainly immobilised by the crash but I did not suffer healthwise in my mind as previously. It is hard to explain the distinction I am trying to make but perhaps I can best explain it by suggesting the crash was more like an immobilisation through tiredness/exhaustion. Previously when I crashed it also impacted my zest for life, my motivation, and my head would get more than just a little hazy - it would often include a level of agitation and I would be unable to think clearly or concentrate.

Hopefully all this is a sign that my health is improving. It's sure taken long enough to get to this point. I feel more in control of my health outcomes as I seem to be well enough that I can manage the amount of activity at a near normal level and just back off when I need to. I think the improvement in my health means I can operate my life on a sustainably productive level although still with some significant constraints on my activity. Time will tell but I am feeling more confident of this than at any other time throughout this second major episode.

Career
Things have taken a very interesting turn here. The contract work with my client has been consolidated with an additional role in a large project he is undertaking. This naturally means I need to be able to put in more time and energy to his business and whilst nervous about this I am confident that I may be able to manage this reasonably competently. I have been able to negotiate a downgraded priority on the contract work I was doing so I am sure I will be able to engage the project with the necessary time and energy putting time into the contract work where there are lulls in the project.

The great thing has been that we are both on the same page where my role is concerned. Our expectations for each other are also well grounded. We have agreed in principle to the type or role to play and to financial terms, and whilst we have both taken on a certain level of risk in this arrangement (he with my health, me financially) there is an excellent opportunity for this to prosper for both of us.

So I'll leave my update at that except to put in a little teaser about what reflections on my depression I will work on next. I have addressed boredom and humiliation fairly well and will leave those topics there for now. I have touched briefly on anger and frustration but would like to say a little more on these. I have barely addressed grief, despair or hate in the way I would like to. Also, I want to address the impact on, and role of, my spirituality throughout depression as well as my fleeting encounter with panic attack and psychosomatic (imaginary) pain. So hopefully I can become particualry inspired about one of these topics and provide an update on them soon.

Humiliation - the final insult

2004-12-09T13:14:00.000+11:00

I have to admit I have been a little reluctant to write this final installment of my humiliation trilogy because I still feel pretty embarrassed about it. Many things I write about in this blog I have already struggled with and resolved in my heart or mind and can relate with little personal discomfort. Not so this final section on humiliation. It's not that it is such a big deal, or that my soul is still broken up over it, it's simply one of those humiliating circumstances that I remain embarrassed about even on reflection. I think there is a certain dignity or pride in a person that when circumstances advance in a particular direction it is only natural to feel humiliated even on reflection. So, with some trepidation, here goes.

I often wonder what people think happens to depressed persons when they are in one of their lows. I still wonder sometimes myself what happens to others facing depression even though I have lived many of the awful experiences that becomes the lot of the clinically depressed. I can't speak for anybody but myself in this blog but depression's effect on my life is not totally unique. When in depths of a major depressive episode, or when having a serious relapse, I personally lose all interest in, and motivation towards, my life and can not get out of bed. In those moments when I'm not quite at my lowest I might get to the toilet toilet or the loungeroom. If I have competing instincts flare up, like thirst or hunger, and they become less bearable than the state of depression I am in I find I get a motivational kick and I am able to address these appetites with a quick trip to the kitchen or pantry. But almost immediately afterwards, when the thirst or hunger is appeased, I am thrown back in the state demotivation and am all the more exhausted by the recently taken journey. And getting out of the house, even to the letterbox, isn't a remote consideration at these times.

Thankfully for me these extreme depths of depression last only a few days at a time now but I can still remember when it would last for weeks on end. Even now I can languish somewhere near the bottom for weeks at a time (just as I did in September and October) but I only tend to rest in the lower depths for three or four days at most. These last few days were not quite at the depths I am talking about here but it was still quite low.

Humiliation in these depths is personal. It has little to do with the illness or the soul (although these have their small place in it). It has more to do with human dignity and hygeine. Being stuck in one room of the house for most of a day, or for an entire week, is awful. In my September-October relapse I made it out of the house three times in two weeks (at the beginning and the end of the depths I had sunk in). I showered only three times in that period and felt clammy and sweaty for almost the entire time. A big day for me in that time, one that I could almost feel proud of given the state I was in, was spending time in the loungeroom as well as the bedroom and perhaps fixing my lunch before the drive to eat grew so much it compelled me to act against my underlying feelings. But it didn't extend to leaving the house or jumping in the shower - that was just too much activity to contemplate.

Being so helpless in my health that I conduct my life based on the most pressing drive or instinct - like an animal - is degrading. As a human I am capable of much more and need much more to be satisfied with my life than the bestial qualities the predominate when I am in the depths. As part of the humiliation I face in my depression this is the final insult as I can not reason away the shame I face because of it. This humiliation goes to the core of being human and I cannot avoid its sting.

An excercise for you:

IMAGINE, lying helpless on your bed, waiting for thirst or hunger or the need to relieve yourself to outweigh the the need to lie uselessly on your bed. And the new drive comes, it builds, and you wait until you can bear it less than the drive to keep you where you lay and reluctantly you choose the path of least resistance and you make it to the bathroom, or the kitchen. Then what? You do what you have to and return to the bed glad the experience of activity is over. Now you can return to the nothing that you were unhappily (but satisfactorily) absorbed with before the drive to move you arose. And you lay there with your mind mostly blank (perhaps snoozing on and off which helps pass the time). And this continues for days on end, and then weeks.

Humiliation has been a key factor in my experience of depression. Whether it is the shame of the illness, the war on against soul, or the stripping of my human dignity, it is always there lurking in the darkness of depression.

Update - bouncing back tomorrow

2004-12-08T20:20:00.000+11:00

Today has gone pretty much like yesterday. I have spent most of it sleeping interspersed with reading and I am only starting to come good now (about 8pm).

I have not really dwelled on what is happening with me today but have attempted to just ride it out. This has been good becuase it becomes easy to fall into the type of ruminating that is destructuve to my soul (as I explained yesterday). So far so good but it's even more significant today because I am under a bit of pressure to complete some more work for my client by next week and it is tempting to get frustrated and impatient with how things are. But I have not yet succumbed (perhaps because I am still hopeful of getting through the work even if didn't happen yesterday or today when I had planned for it).

Despite the current drama I am still feeling not too bad. My body is broken and my mind isn't quite there but I feel like I am only a day away from being well. I thought today might be the day when I bounced back but it wasn't to be. When I am worse it is my mind that really suffers. It goes from fine, to hazy, to completely fogged over, then through increasing levels of agitation. At its worst the agitiation can take weeks to clear but recently I have been mostly in the fog with only small overtones of agitiation when it has been bad. Crashes or down times have been limited to a few days in a row at most. I think tomorrow I will be better but I'll be happier when it is not just speculation.

The precipice

2004-12-07T23:33:00.000+11:00

After all the anticipation of finally celebrating an anniversary it was done energetically and in style. Even the mornings went well and after a few early coffees you wouldn't have known anything was wrong with me at all. We had a great time relaxing and indulging ourselves and it was sad that it had to end. But I suppose reality is tough even when it does not reach the extremes I have become accustomed to recently.

Monday was a tougher assignment. I started to come down from the caffeinated high but was still able to make a morning party I was hosting for my daughter's birthday. After hosting the party, and having a full day of activity besides this, I started to run out of steam before dinner. It was becoming very difficult just to get the job done but I got there in the end - just.

Today was worse. I slept for most of the afternoon and only came back to life (after living in a wakeful haze) at about 9pm. Now I feel almost ready to go on with life but the day is over. I've slept most of it so am not tired. I feel like doing something, perhaps anything, but just can't be bothered with any notion that comes to mind (from reading, writing, watching a DVD, going for a walk, visiting the 24 hour department store, chatting with my wife). It all just seems a bit too hard. I know it's the depression because I am so familiar with it yet still some part of me asks that nagging question about laziness and lack of discipline.

Sometimes it is hard accepting I have depression and that the symptoms are not in my control. I often feel discouraged about the ongoing uncertainties and wasted days too. It's also hard to convince myself that it's not worth dwelling on even when I know it couldn't be helped. It is far too easy to be drawn towards that dark precipice in my mind and to fall over and then free fall into ruminating on things that kill my soul. It's such an alluring prospect to seek solace in self pity, self deprecation, and catastrophising about life. There is a definite sparkle at the edge of that precipice to every sordid object of my thoughts even though I know it's only fool's gold.

I am beginning to think that my mind is just like an adventurer. When it's idle it gets edgy and looks for excitment and activities to fulfill it. It wanders searchingly, looking for danger and conquest on its path, and finds comfort not simply in fulfilling its mental wanderlust by journeying through the darkest recesses but moreso when it confronts real dangers of the mind and soul. When it reaches that precipice in my mind where it knows there is a danger to my soul if I stand to near the edge and topple over - or dive off.

Unlike most things in my life at least the path of my mind is in my control. Whichever way I go I know I have chosen it. The path I choose determines whether I suffer from my illness alone or confront groanings of my soul that numb and sour all other contemplation in my life.

Anniversary of Hope

2004-12-03T15:29:00.000+11:00

Dark are the years of our recent life
With love tested to its ultimate.
We have learned to survive on the smallest spark;
But its floodlights we seek,
Or the Sun,
Or galaxies of Light
To warm us and show us through.

A first in three years

2004-12-03T14:49:00.000+11:00

This weekend will be mine and my wife's 11th wedding anniversay. It will be the first time in three years we will have properly celebrated the occasion. We actually had plans two years ago but we had a surprise special delivery with our daughter who arrived two months early and spoiled the plans. I did bring Indian take-away and a bottle of fine Australian red wine to the hospital for the occasion but it really didn't count as we were more concerned with the health of our premmie little girl who was placed in the NICU (Neonatal intensive Care Unit) at the time. My wife wasn't too flash anyway only having had an emergency caesarean section 24 hours earlier. Besides, who in their right mind would take a date to the hospital and expect to enjoy it - talk about romantic!

Last year we organised a celebration for our daughter's first birthday (because we didn't get a chance to celebrate her birth properly with all the premmie drama) and I was too sick to organise and celebrate our anniversary as well. This was a great event but I crashed pretty hard for the following six weeks. I think my wife was too exhausted to celebrate our anniversary anyway because she did much of the preparation in the final days.

This year we'll be doing both! So things have improved on last year. I am looking forward to a weekend away with just the two of us. I am absolutely thrilled with the propsect of this celebratory weekend as I am in the best health I have been in since this major episode of depression. It means my wife is pretty much guaranteed to have enjoyable company on our special occasion (at least for the afternoons and evenings because I am still a bit slow in the mornings) and not have to worry about, or be reminded of, the difficulties we have experienced with my depression - at least for a weekend.

I definitely overcooked it

2004-12-02T04:22:00.000+11:00

Well it's now heading in to the wee hours of the morning and I am still unable to sleep even with my sedatives on board. It just goes to show that there is such a fine line between having a great day and overcooking it.

Still unwinding

2004-12-02T01:58:00.000+11:00

Well today was a huge day for family, business, and career! After crashing yesterday (about a 7/10 on the 'I've done a bit too much and have to crash' scale) I was fired up and raring to go this morning. I made final preparations at home for my afternoon business meeting; I had lunch, a chat, and did some shopping with my wife; I decided to make some career decisions; and I had a meeting with my current client (that was really two meetings that lasted a total of 3.5 hours). I must have been active for the best part of 8 hours today - that's almost normal!

For those interested in what decisions I made I came to the conclusion that I will concentrate on my existing client, I will increase my hours of service where necessary, and I will develop my writing concepts and projects in the meanwhile (see earlier blog for context). This fit in beautifully with my client's desire for me to be involved in the planning, management and admin of a major project he is undertaking in March next year (if we can come to suitable terms on remuneration and defined role). It looks like I am beginning to fall on my feet again.

More big news: - since we were looking at developing the business relationship further I told my client about my depression and that there was potential of it impacting my reliability at times. You know what he said ... "no problem, we'll just have to have a back up plan in case it happens" - talk about amazing!

So it was a big day in my life today. I again made a confession about having depression (and wasn't the slightest bit humiliated), I defined the short-medium term path of my current business/career, I had lunch with my wife (and made plans about family, home renovations, and career - I forgot to mention those other two earlier) and had a hair cut, wrote a blog, etc... Who could have thought after yesterday being confined to the house all day I would have the strength and drive to do all this just 24 hours later. Perhaps the depression really is breaking?

The only downside for me today is that after all the excitment I find myself unable to sleep because I am still unwinding.

Humiliation (the second wave) - losing control

2004-11-30T21:02:00.000+11:00

After having mostly recovered from my first bout of depression I was again gaining in confidence in myself and felt that I had overcome most of the humiliation from my first depressive episode. I was still wary about who knew about my depression, because I still felt embarrassed about this information and was not confident that people would treat me fairly, but otherwise I thought I had recovered in that area. This, as it turned out, was only somewhat accurate. I had come to terms with the fact that a person who was depressed in the way that I had been was as incapable of living life productively because of their impaired mental capacities as an athlete would be incapable of competing with impaired physical abilities (eg. a broken leg or other injury). I no longer felt humiliated to be ill which was a relief. It was also fairly easy not to be when I was mostly recovered and had a rapidly progressing career. But as it turned out I had overestimated the extent of my recovery and I was soon facing a major depressive episode again. With little notice I was again stripped of my dignity and suffered awful humiliation from this malevolent and pernicious disease.

On the eve of my second episode of major depression, as on the eve of my first bout of depression, I was getting on top of my life and succeeding in the things I was putting my mind and effort to. I had recently continued my promotion through the company I was working for and now ran a workforce planning and reporting department of 10 people. My home life was going superbly as well as I had recently welcomed the birth of my firstborn daughter into the family.

Just before the depression hit me again I was due to take a couple of weeks leave at the beach with my newly extended family. I was feeling a bit run down at the time but I had been quite busy with work and the new baby that I thought it was nothing out of the ordinary. However, towards the end of the two weeks leave it became apparent that I wasn't being refreshed by the holiday and the first recognisable signs of depression became apparent to me.

On return to work I was determined not to succumb to depression in the way that I had the first time. It was too aware of the symptoms for it to sneak up on me and give me my illness by a thousand cuts. The way I fought to remain at work and involved in life I will tell at another time. Let me simply say that I was wiser for having had depression before and I fought it with every ounce of strength and guile I could possibly muster. Ultimately it was to no avail.

I had been back at work for a few weeks when I was no longer able do my job. During that time I quickly went to the doctors and returned to medication and kept fighting through the symptoms hoping to be stable enough to continue working. However, I was soon so severely debilitated by the disease that I could not even clear out my email inbox and assign routine tasks to my staff. I had no choice but to take time off. All this occured within a few weeks of returning to work. I again sought my doctor to consult on my prognosis. It was too difficult to tell what the likely outcome was to be so I felt I had to let my boss know of my situation and the prospect of having an extended period of illness. And this I did whilst on my first batch of leave. This just gutted me. I was as distraught from confronting the fact of my illness as I was with informing my boss.

In this early phase of my depression my whole world seemed to be on the brink of falling apart so I determined I would fight this situation to the best of my capacity - and so I did. It was not easy. The realisation that I was potentially not fit for work for the long term, the fact that I felt like I was letting down my boss who had put so much faith in me, the fact that I was unable to lead my team of workers through diffuclt phases of transition in my department all ensured that I began to feel like a failure. This was only compounded by me no longer being able to live up to the standards that I expected from my staff in that period. It was a greulling time healthwise, mentally, and emotionally and I was again placed in a vicious fight for the survival of my soul against depression.

After a few trials of work (interspersed with sick leave), and as symptoms worsened, it became apparent that I was not going to be able to return to work full time - but I would not accept this. Throughout this period everybody at work knew that I was ill. It was impossible to hide it. I came into work looking like a living corpse. As far as I was concerned I was going to work for as long as I was able to fight it out. In the end I was fighting an obviously insurmountable battle that through sheer force of will and habit I had not yet relinquished fighting. After about three months of fighting full time work (interspersed with sick leave) I was walking past a meeting room where a colleague of mine was just leaving. He immediately pulled me into the vacated room and told me to go home because it was not worth doing to myself or my family what my illness and work required and that the business would go on without me. Knowing he was right, and really just needing someone to say it was ok to be sick and not work, I took his advice for which I am extremely grateful (some time later I went and thanked this colleague and he told me that while we were talking in that room, apart from looking as green around the gills as could be, I had been leaning up against the wall on an angle so severe he thought I might topple over at anytime - I had absolutely no idea).

I called my boss immediately and informed her I was just far too sick to work. I remained composed on the phone but as soon as my call finished I broke down and cried. I was exhausted from the illness, I was exhausted from the battle, I was exhausted from the worry - I was simply done, I could not go on. My world was imploding in on me and there was nothing more I could do about it except to stand and watch one degradation after another.

During this phase of my health dilemmas my workplace was as accommodating as could be. For another three months they held my position open, reduced my role to half time, and worked on a return to work plan with me. As soon as I raised my hours and role towards full time work I was unable to cope (and I was not all that effective during my part time work either). Things eventually were brought to a head and I resigned without pressure from my workplace. This decision I took in the best interests of myself and my family but ultimately I think it was in the best interest of my workplace as well. They had offered to provide a comparable role on my return to full health but this was perhaps more legal obligation than than benefit for them. I ultimately knew that if my depression was to pass I would find some means to productively employ my talents.

The humiliation I faced during my second episode of depression was more horrid than my first. The above catalogue of incidents is not the half of it but a small selection of the lowlights. The countless meetings with my boss and HR were just as awful. Each time it was a reminder to me that I was incapable of doing my job. I was being carried through one of the many company processes/policies to the letter and I just felt like a uselss passenger. There was meant to be some kind of dignity behind these procedures but I think in reality it is only in form because some things can never reach and deal with human frailty in a satisfactory way.

Apart from the humiliation of facing workplace processess designed to protect me, and an obvoius loss of capacity and prestige, I also had to face what was important to me personally. I had a reputation to lose, financial assets to lose, and a family dependant on me that I kept letting down. As these things were slipping ever further from my grasp there is no way I can properly describe how I felt. What I can say is that the whole of my being and psyche were impacted in an extraordinary way. I felt totally emasculated as a man and, as my health worsened, I felt on the verge of being totally dehumanised - and I think for a portion of time I was because I had lost total control of my life.

Update - A return to health and looking forward

2004-11-28T14:44:00.000+11:00

I haven't given a decent update for a few days so I thought I'd turn my hand to that today. I have begun the second part of my trilogy on humiliation and am about half way through it. I was flagging in my concentration to remember and process the events surrounding the beginning of my second major depressive episode that I needed to give it a break. So I have decided to reflect more easily on what's been happening over the last week.

In many ways it's just been the usual week for me with one exception - its been my best week healthwise since I have come down with this second episode of depression. Whilst I have had more productive weeks when I was still working full time with my depression my health has not been better. I've wisened up as to how I push myself when feeling 'depressed' so that I don't exacerbate my symptoms and due to this policy I have had a very full and busy week but I have also only had two half days where I needed to crash a bit and recouperate. I just paced myself when I was feeling a bit 'depressed'. I honestly can't describe how fantastic it is to feel energetic and alive again.

With this renewed vigour I have been more aggressively considering how my future is to be structured in terms of work and career. I have had good feedback from my existing client based on the work I have done for him so far. He has made his final downpayment on the current contract I have with him (which means I have completely met the financial goals I set for my business to December) and he even asked me to become more involved with his business at a management level as per some of our prior discussions.

I have been writing quite a bit lately as well and have been developing concepts for books and plays that I can publish. In the last couple of weeks I have decided on four children's books that have particular merit in their concept and I am determined to write them over the Christmas break. I have also begun to develop a concept for a play about depression that I think will also have some merit - but I am less certain of this. I have a few friends that I can bounce this idea off and refine or change if necessary. But I am enthused at the possibilities in this area at the moment.

Either way, the question hanging over me at the moment is whether the writing I am doing is a distraction to the management work I have begun or whether it is something I can do alongside it. I am definitely committed to developing a business relationship as far as I can with my existing client and have been considering quite seriously whether I will stop at one client and write or attempt to develop my client base to my business models number of four or five and not write. There is not time in the day to do both well so a decision is definitely pending.

I am getting excited just being able to consider these possibilities again. I am adamant that even if I decide early which way to jump that I won't rush in to it and overwhelm myself so greatly that I will again fall ill. In all this planning I still have to consider my role in the family. I will not extend myself in a way that compromises the stability that is finally being found in my home, a stability that is prevailing even with the depression and its negative impacts.

Humiliation - the first crescendo

2004-11-25T21:23:00.000+11:00

Being a fairly proud and defiant person I had never been prone to feelings of humiliation. If ever I was socially maligned (or abused) as a young adult or teen I would invariably provide the most suitably venomous retort within my command and typically hit the mark with skill and finesse. As I grew into adulthood I would tend to hold my tongue more, hold my head higher, square my shoulders more broadly, and take with dignity the slurs sent my way. Interestingly I noticed that this latter approach had no less impact on any protagonist as the most venomous and hurtful retort of my youth. I think I simply began to figure that any maliciousness or ignorance exhibited by a person (including myself) was a discredit to the proponent moreso than the recipient so I changed my ways.

If I ever committed my own social faux pas, and became conscious of the fact, I would only be satisfied if I had done all in my power to appease the injured - which usually was accepted and done with quickly. I would not be prone to dwell on the matter beyond that and did not shrink back from getting back on with life mindful, but unconcerned, of the former situation. In short, I wasn't quite bullet proof on the matter, but I certainly was not predisposed to travelling through life with a temper of disgrace or shame even if I had done something silly.

So as I began to realise that I had depression, come to terms with its symptoms, and then attempt to understand and allow for the symptoms' impact on my personality and activity, I was completely unready for the feelings (which were more a state of mind, or a distortion of my soul, than an emotion) that soon overpowered me with guilt and shame. It was initially a kind of embarrassment on steroids but it soon degenerated into a feeling of self-abasement and disgrace that encompassed my whole life and being. I felt awful because of the depression and I felt even worse because of the humiliation of my soul and being.

I began to take on a self awareness of embarrassment when I began to have the symptoms of depression and not know what caused them. I was critical on myself about being lazy and undisciplined so that when I was confronted, usually by my wife, on my state of living before I was diagnosed with depression (of which the symptoms involved not moving out of the house more than a couple of times a week, wasting my time on the computer, and a steady disengagement from my social networks) I felt embarrassed about being a bad person and a poor husband and felt embarrassed about simply wasting my life away. Typically I was a driven and productive person so this change of lifestyle impacted me to a fair extent. I think I was saved more embarrassment due to having declining powers of cognition and concentration so that towards the time of diagnosis I was unable to think much about how I was living although I was in a constant state of sever agitation and frustration.

On being diagnosed with depression much of the embarrassment I had felt disappeared pretty quickly. I realised that I was not as 'bad' as I had thought and that there was a real explanation for what was impacting my life. I felt very uncertain about what the immediate future held but I knew what was wrong and that was sufficient for the moment after several months of decline.

After this initial period of embarrassment I again fell into the same state but for another reason. I was being treated with anti-depressants and I wanted to act contrary to my symptoms wherever possible so I started to attending low key social occasions wherever possible (family gatherings and occasionally meeting my most intimate friends only). In doing this I felt extremely awkward. It wasn't a social phobia at all it was just that the depression had so impacted my mind and concentration I was unable to socialise properly with other people and I was reluctant to tell them of my illness. These two factors embarrassed me a good deal. It's hard to say in this period whether it was the illness itself or my reaction to its symptoms that caused the most embarrassment but in some sense it didn't matter as either way I felt dreadful. I had some small feelings of guilt and shame at this time about not being a useful or productive person but this was far less so than the more immediate embarrassment I was feeling at the time.

I still remember quite vividly the first time I went out with other people after I was diagnosed with depression. It was a celebration for mine and my brother’s birthdays (my 29th, his 25th). I had only just been diagnosed with depression about a week before and nobody except my wife and I knew what was going on. I was desperate to cancel and not face my family (besides which I just felt totally dreadful anyway) and only got to the restaurant due to the patient encouragement of my wife. I walked into the restaurant like an invalid. The whole evening seemed to drift by like a dream. I sat in one spot and didn't move all night. I hardly said a word to anybody. I could hardly be less enthused if I had tried and I felt like I was attending my own funeral rather than my birthday. Attempts by family to converse with me were utterly painful for both parties as my mind was still very agitated and the last thing it wanted to do was hold a conversation. At the end of the night I had fudged my way through the evening but that was about all I had successfully done. I felt dreadful because of depression and felt equally awful because I was unable to socialise as normal and I was too embarrassed to tell them about my depression in the first place (as if it was a sign of weakness or something like that).

Soon after this 'party' I returned to my doctors to monitor my progress. He needed to find out more about my family history of mental illness (which certainly didn't make me glow with pride). I now had to tell someone in my family what was going on just to be able to find out what I needed. I chose my father who I knew to be discreet and who hadn't attended my party. He hadn't seen me for several months and was surprised to see me just turn up at his door. Due to the change of expression on my face and the 20kg (44lb) I had added to my weight he hardly recognised me. From memory I just got pretty much straight to the point by telling him I was sick and needed to talk about the history of mental illness in our family. I have hardly felt so degraded as person in my life by confessing my illness at this time. It was a definite low point for me but only continued to decline.

As the relief began to settle from finding out my diagnosis I became more prone to feelings of uselessness, and shame. My medication reduced the agitation of my mind so I had more time to think and reflect on what was happening. I started to feel useless as a person as I was unable to do anything much - and I still believe that this is quite a normal way to feel when looking at what's happening and it was certainly something I was not ready for. It is truly humiliating to a person who is proud and productive and who has a sense of worth in what they are able to do as much as in who they are. And I felt the anguish of this. It was totally humiliating to be asked by someone "how are you today?" because i just felt like crap and was instantly reminded of it. It was totally humiliating having someone ask how uni was going for me or what I was doing at the time because I was doing absolutely nothing and uni was going to the dogs. All these little things that are normal to life had the severest impact on the way I felt about myself and I was more or less in a total state of humiliation until several months later when I had recovered enough to risk taking a job.

I felt that depression was slowly but surely destroying my soul as effectively as it had destroyed the normality of my life at the time. And a key in that process was the building and building of self-degradation and shame that left me in an almost constant state of humiliation.

Humiliation - next time

2004-11-25T11:30:00.000+11:00

The upshot of my last post's query has been that I took my meds late and suffered. I was brazenly active again on the Sunday morning and afternoon and only suffered a slow Monday morning. I have been back in the swing all this week - being the real Mr. Mum at home, looking after my daughter, meeting a work deadline, and partying with family and friends over the last two nights (going away party for a mate on Tuesday and a Family birthday party last night). Things are starting to look reasonably optimistic!

Having had good health over much of the last week I am beginning to wonder if I am ever going to be depressed enough again to have enforced time out with little to do but read and write. However I am sure I will push the limit and feel the wrath of this disease some time soon if it doesn't just cycle back and floor me regardlessly.

Since Sunday I have tried to log on here three times to update my blog with reflections on my humiliations in depression but blogger has been out of order at those times. I actually wrote a short entry introducing my humiliating experiences but the blog gremlins despatched of this without a trace. Even today I have been trying to get on for an hour only getting the error message (and I only just thought about writing it in MS word and pasting it later). Oh well, I soon hope to write my trilogy on humiliation as this was a big shock to the system several times throught my depression. I might even try later today when my little girl's sleeping.

Oooops

2004-11-21T01:44:00.000+11:00

I have had to get up so I don't keep my wife awake. Perhaps I did over cook it a bit today? Or it could just mean that I got a little too excited about having such a great day. It could also be because I took my meds about two hours late and the delay has caused this insomnia. Either way ... oooops!

A normal day (really this time)!

2004-11-20T23:08:00.000+11:00

I have finally had a day full of activity without feeling the ill effects of it. Its great to be back (touch wood - *knocking head*). For those who care to know what a full day is it is what I would call something of a normal day if I was healthy. So, my wife was out all day and I took care of my daughter through until tea time. In that time I went and ordered prescription contact lenses, did the grocery shopping, had lunch out at McDonald with my daughter, got home and visited a local garage sale, then did gardening for a couple of hours and went out for a couple of hours in the evening. I finished it off by cooking dinner for my wife (steak and five veg). And I reckon I have done it without burning myself out or winding myself up (ie. hypomanically) - time will tell. It feels great to live normally even for one day.

I recently received some feedback from a mate regarding how bleak this blog was at times and they weren't at all happy. They pointed out that there was hope even in the despair of depression and I should write about that too. Well Rosie - I hope you enjoyed this entry.

I suppose others may feel the same way too so I want to answer the point. While I do wish to show off and celebrate the successes within my battle against depression, and I have done so at every opportunity thus far, I equally wish to communicate the experience of being depressed and the impact it has had on my life and, more importantly, my soul. I feel that this is what I didn't (and perhaps couldn't) understand when I first came down with depression and it was this that impacted me as much as the illness itself. The truth is I barely understood it well at the beginning of the second episode either and so suffered from the illness and in my soul. The point in writing my blog in the way I do (and I do it the way it is on purpose) is to explore and reflect on the impact that depression has had on my life, and my soul, and to perhaps fill a part of the void that others may have in coming to terms with their own depression. As far as I could find out, when it mattered most, there was no resource that directly addressed this for me - or for my loved ones who suffered along with me and perhaps suffered even as much as I did.

If this blog can help me understand better what I've been through it will have served its purpose well enough. If it can help others also to understand their own or their loved ones response to depression then it will have done everything I could have hoped for. Along the way it will look directly at some of the symptoms of depression that I have faced and put that in the context of my life - including the times of hope. But I want most of all for people who read this to understand the deeper impact of depression on my life and my soul - things like enforced unemployment, relationship strain, not getting out of bed, boredom, grief, humiliation, despair, anger, frustration, hate.

As a person I don't particularly like being bleak as it is against my nature. But it is a reality that things can get quite bleak when your world is turned upside down by depression. And it is not only the illness that a depressed person and their family has to deal with it is equally the dramatic effects on lifestyle and it is also the severest of battles to remain in control of your own soul. My experience with depression is that you have to know exactly what you're fighting to fight it well and it is with this in mind I write as I do.

Boredom

2004-11-17T18:11:00.000+11:00

At the moment the days roll on as previously described. Rested on Sunday. Looked after my daughter and house hold chores on Monday. Took daughter to a birthday party and went out in the late afternoon and evening on Tuesday. Crashed today (Wednesday). I got out of bed at 2.45pm and have taken it easy having only had brunch and watched a video until now.

One of the consequences of this current 'lifestyle', apart from frustration and despondance, is boredom. I am getting better in my mind but there is a lag in my recovery to be able to endure normal activity. So I sit around perfectly conscious in mind, although occasionally a little bit hazy (I write here when it is worse), with a restriction on any activity if I wish to be in control of my active times and moments. I am now experienced enough to sense when I have reached my limit of activity and respond accordingly to this with inactivity. Naturally, this time in my life is fertile ground for boredom.

An otherwise fit body and acute mind being forced to lay inactively is not healthy or welcome and is virtually impossible for me to counteract. I read as often as I can and regularly walk 3-4 times a week for up to an hour at a time. This fills some of my time in a reasonably positive, and potentially helpful, way but this meagre response to inactivity is hardly a panacea for the boredom that is born of my current conditions. So enforced idleness and boredom remains.

It appears that all the ways to remedy my boredom are blocked as they are all necessarily bound closely to productive activity - of which I am hopelessly incapable of sustaining. To increase my activity and ignore my limitations is to act recklessly against my health and family for my short term gratification. So I suffer the boredom and hope that my health recovers sufficiently for me to sweep the idleness away with increased activity. And there have been times, as at the end of August and early September, where I was able to sustain a lifestyle of constant moderate activity and little boredom. But since my mid-September crash I have been unable to regain that level of activity which then busied me sufficiently to ward off that spectre of boredom which haunts me again.

Ongoing boredom is a battle of patience and endurance. It is a battle to ward off those dark thoughts of the soul that still occasionally get the better of me (such as I relayed in my pre-suicidal musings a couple of weeks back). With time on the side of an idle and wandering mind it is easy for it to drift into awful reflections of what your life has become and then with great personal condemnation survey the carnage of your life and loved ones and leap to seemingly obvious self deprecating conclusions. It is both memerising and disheartening to pay it attention yet it so plainly shapes the fabric of each day and week that it is unavoidable to consider your life in anything but this way when idleness is present in such generous measure.

General update - depression as a cruel taskmaster

2004-11-14T17:36:00.000+11:00

"To inflict a suspension of action on a being conscious of posessing the powers of action, and burning for their employment ... to do this, is to invent a torture that might make Phalaris blush for his impotence of cruelty." Charles Robert Maturin

It has been a little while since I have bothered to update this blog so I might just give a brief survey of how things are.

I am recovering steadily but patchily. Wednesday from midday was fairly good. I went out for trivia in the evening and had a good night.

Thursday I was finally able to look after my daughter again for a whole day but suffered in my health as a result of the effort. I was unable to complete the work I anticipated doing for my client and now have to carry over about 3-4 hours for next week. This was perhaps the most disappointing aspect of the day. I was unable to assist my wife on her return home from work by having done some of the chores and I was unable to cook the dinner. Insomnia returned and I didn't get to sleep until about 4pm.

I bounced back on Friday after sleeping in late (~11.30am). My sister dropped by with her two daughters and we had coffee. I went out for lunch and met my pastoral counsellor. This was a great time and very encouraging. It was also my wife's day off from work so I spent some of the afternoon with her working in the garden. I was also well enough to cook dinner for the family that night.

Saturday was a challenge. I had to help my brother in law shift house. I arrived a little late after sleeping in but was still able to do quite a bit to get the shifting done (including organising an impromptu cricket match when things got a little slow). But when I arrived home early in the afternoon I was starting to feel a little burnt out from the last day and a half's activity. I slowly drifted downhill to a mini crash and was unable to accompany the family when they went out to church at 6pm. I lay in bed for about four hours half snoozing, half reading, and recovered my enrgy enough to make a late dinner after 9pm. Sleep was getting back to near normal.

And so it goes with my life today. I am reluctantly taking a semi-enforced rest. I actually feel well enough to do things but I don't think I would cope with doing them. What I mean is that I am caught in a vicious circle because of my health. As soon as I feel well I want to be active. As soon as I get active (which is hardly very active at all) I crash. I do virtually nothing and begin to feel ok again. So I get active again and crash, and so on, hoping always to be spiralling upwards and out of this vicious depressive circle.

This is the pattern of my life at the moment. The medication I am on underpins me to a certain extent but I still have to carefully manage my level of activity. Some days my health is a little more amenable to activity than others and I need to adjust accordingly. But this is not always possible given certain commitments to my family and to my work. So I plan for both activity and recovery - its a science and burden in itself. Ultimately depression is a cruel taskmaster as much as it is a cruel affliction.

Out on the town

2004-11-10T22:34:00.000+11:00

Typically I am not the sort of person to spend much time in bars and clubs but there was a period in the middle of my five years of depression where if you wanted to find me of an evening, or early morning, the best chance of doing so was at the local bar or club. Traditionally, I did socialise a little at uni, after work, or with friends occasionally but I had a strong family life and was involved in local community and church groups (note: I had ceased to participate in these on becoming depressed). For a few years I did not even drink alcohol as I took a leadership position in my local church and they preffered their leaders not to drink. So I was busy with uni, and some community group involvement as well as my local church, and was very satisfied with my life and I didn't miss the odd wine or beer or nip of scotch as much as I expected.

I am not really sure how my involvement in bar hopping and bionge drinking all started but the following were the prevailing circumstances at that time of my transformation. It was about two years into my first major depressive episode and I had recently come off medication. To counteract any possible negative impacts from going off my medication, and to reverse the impact of gaining about 20kg's (44lbs) while depressed, I decided to supplement my health regime with team sport and joined the local football club. Also by this timeI had changed roles from my job in customer service to a planning and reporting role in the department I was soon to manage. I was well on the way back - or so I thought.

In many ways it was such a relief just to begin living a normal life again. I had always held a part time job and been involved in sport or local clubs as a youth so it was my way of life to be active and involved so closely with people in this way. However, with the resumption of normal life and new social networks, I was primed to spend a lot more time than usual with work colleagues and sporting buddies. Before I knew it I was involved in nearly all the social gatherings at the pubs and clubs that I heard about. I had been so starved of companionship during my first bout of illness that when the opportunities to socialise came along I was always there. At first I was there till 8pm, then 9pm then midnight and eventually it was my regular habit to get home in the early hours of the morning. In many ways I was like a social ship that had gethered up its steam and was not able to stop. I was propelled along as much by my interest to socialise with others as the momentum of being active again. It was partly an addiction to people and activity, partly a reckless streak no longer encumbered with inhibitions I held prior to my illnes, partly a longing to maximise the social aspect of life I had missed while ill, partly a compulsion just to do stuff, and partly a rebound in my brains activity that I was unable to properly manage. It all added up to a new personality of partying hard and long.

This transformation in my character shocked my wife as much as the initial depression. The hope she had on my journey to recovery was soon lost and she was anxious about my recklessness instead of my health. As many as four nights a week I was arriving home in the early hours of the morning without so much as a phonecall. This could not be sustained in a successful marraige and I was eventually brought to my senses about the destructiveness of my behaviour to the marraige after talking to my wife about its impacts (this was quite a dramatic process despite not being conveyed in those terms). I began to seek for and recognise the signs of my recklessness. I placed boundaries on my behaviour and the circumstances I would put myself in. And I eventually scaled down this recklessness in my life and became a worthy man and husband again.

In many ways I want to blame my illness for this episode of my recovery too. If I had never had depression it is highly doubtfuly that my life would have taken this turn. Furthermore I think I legitmately could blame my illness for this turn of events by invoking concepts such as Hypomanic Episodes and using excuses such as alcohol. Whilst I did lack experience in handling my recovery in a completely productive way, and some of these excuses are feasible, the recklessness of my behaviour was not out of my control in the same way as my depression was. To this day, even in my current recovery, I have urges and drives to get carried away recklessly with life just like after my first major depressive episode. But now I am able to monitor my emotions and respond in a positive way.

It is a relief now to be able to resume socialising with friends and former colleagues with my wife's confidence - when my health allows of course. Much has changed in me since that time and I now have the experience to manage the urges and inclinations that would again have me spin recklessly out of control.

And I went to a local bar tonight. It was a trivia night and dinner with former work colleagues. In some ways it was still all about the beer as we went to a bar renound for its own freshly brewed house beer. But I could go there with confidence, at my wife's urging too, and enjoy the time with mates knowing that I was no longer playing with fire but enjoying a normal aspect of life that was once such a danger to me and my family.

Work amidst depression

2004-11-09T20:14:00.000+11:00

One of the normal aspects of life that has been most impacted by depression is my career. The career I had in an international firm as a manager of a reporting and workforce planning department could not be sustained - not even part time. My workplace attempted to accommodate me with reduced hours until I recovered but I was just too unfit even for that. They also offered to give me extended leave and a comparable job on return to health but to accept that offer would not, I believe, be in mine or my family's best interests (or even the company's). I would still be unable to hold a job with my former employer, even part time, and it has been 12 months since I left them and nearly two years since I came down with my life's second major depressive episode. So after a promising start to my career it soon ended with a bit of a whimper then a thud.

It's interesting, not to mention extremely painful, to learn how far one's identity is caught up in their work. I had been out of work before for short periods of time between jobs but I had never been in the position where it was impossible for me to hold down a job - ie. to acknowledge that I was unemployable! In many ways I was self made and therefore proud of my achievements. I returned to study mature age and fulfilled my dream of holding a job that I didn't dread going to each morning. Humble ambitions I know, but ultimately I wanted to have a challenging job and an enjoyable and well balanced life, and this I had achieved. Anyway, on finally recognising that I was unfit for work, and then resigning from my job, I went through an intense period of anger, resentment, pain, and grief over my own identity and worth in and to the world (ie. within my family and community). Those days were perhaps the darkest of my life. For several months, whilst experiencing a major depressive episode, I was constantly questioning everything that I once took for granted about myself and my life and was facing up to the possibility that my lot in life was being foreshadowed by this immediate experience (the second of its kind). It was a dreadful time. I was extremely miserable, severely agitated, and when I had capacity to feel emotional variety, I was angrier with myself, and the weakness of my body, than I had ever been angry toward anyone or anything in my entire life. It was scary, and I was just as frustrated as I was angry. A couple of times I actually sat in my room and began punching myself in the face stopping only when I reflected that to do that or nothing was equally useless and given I was predisposed to inaction through my depression and that I didn't naturally have any masochistic tendencies the way of inaction prevailed (I have since come to terms with this ordeal and will relate this at another time).

So it was a bold step that I took at the end of June this year to decide that I would start my own business as a personal manager for other small businesses/sole proprietors (I do have an industry of focus where this role makes a lot of sense and is well utilised but I am not confident to reveal that yet). My team of supporters had a mixed reaction, medically it was indavisable, but I figured I had recovered sufficiently to set up the business structure and plan for a beginning of oprations next year. I was still going through constant relapses in my health, which could take me out for a few weeks at a time, but I felt that I was able to concentrate enough to make use of my health downtime by working productively on my PC and online. And so I did.

When I was reasonably well I was able to structure my weeks so that I had a day and a half dedicated to work. My daughter was cared for by family through that time and I was free to spend what usally amounted to between six and eight hours on work each week. On the occasions I was too sick to work, which was about once in every two to three weeks, the rest I obtained from having family members looking after my daughter was keeping me bouyant in my Mr. Mum role for the rest of my week. When able, my work consisted of researching my new industry, networking, business planning, and educating myself through books on relevant topics. It was very low key but I was making strong progress despite some health setbacks.

Soon came some fun. A mutual contact introduced me to a prospective client. My work was now potentially no longer as flexible with my health as I needed it to be but I was determined to see if I could structure any potential work in such a way that it could be flexible. I started fostering my relationship with this potential client and about one month ago we signed a short term contract that will take us through to Christmas. Those of you who have been following this blog will know that this timeframe overlaps with my most recent, and quite serious, health relapse. However, having built a solid relationship with my client before hand, and by providing them with expectations commensurate with my health limitations, I was able to negotiate my health (and my contract responsibilities) in such a way as to be able to perform the necessasry business functions at the necessary times to meet my client's needs. As it turns out I have worked nine hours for my client in the last three to four weeks. And I anticipate another five to six hours will be completed in the next two days now my health is somewhat restored. My client is very happy with my approach to him so far and I was able to ride out a particualrly rough patch in my health through some forethought and planning. My client does not know that I have depression yet. However, before any more permanent or committed relationship has developed I intend to divulge this.

It may not sound like much of an achievement to have worked for nine hours in the last three to four weeks but for me it is a form of bliss, a great satisfaction, and an unlikely goal I have achieved in the midst of my depression. Since mid year I have set up my own business. I have formulated a business plan and model (to accomodate my health) and I have made a successful attempt to execute it so far notwithstanding the setbacks along the way. I have set a modest financial target for my business this year which the completion of my current contract will meet. To me I am totally amazed that a person in my health can manage a form of gainful employment - no matter how modest. I am beginning to think that the opportunities, although unconventional, are there for me to work even if I remain ill with depression for some time yet. One thing for sure is that if I don't have a go I will never know and I refuse to die wondering.

Dickens understood the personal impact of serious illness

2004-11-08T14:43:00.000+11:00

I am currently reading Bleak House by Charles Dickens. Mid way through the book I came across the following passage about a serious illness that overcame the main character and I immediately related to it.

"I lay ill through several weeks, and the usual tenor of my life became like an old remembrance. But, this was not the effect of time, so much as of the change in all my habits, made by the helplessness and inaction of a sick room. Before I had been confined to it many days, everything else seemed to have retired into a remote distance, where there was little or no separation between the various stages of my life which had been really divided by years. In falling ill, I seemed to have crossed a dark lake, and to have left all my experiences, mingled together by the great distance, on the healthy shore."

I have personally experienced this Dickensian observation of illness on numerous occasions in my serially repetitive major depressive episodes. At times these experiences had lasted months on end but thankfully it is now usually contained to a few weeks and sometimes, mercifully, only a few days.

Dickens also understood the return from illness to strength. I immediately related to a passage on recovery which, unfortunately, I have only partially experienced to date. I hope for the day ahead when the recovery is complete.

"By and by, my strength began to be restored. Instead of lying, with so strange a calmness, watching what was done for me, as if it were done for some one else whom I was quietly sorry for, I helped it a little, and so on to a little more and much more, until I became useful to myself, and interested, and attached to life again."

To become useful to myself (and family) again is my hearts desire. And to be fully attached to life again is a yearning I harbour beyond comprehension. What I cannot do in full I now do in part and in part to its utmost. My life is yet a poor shadow of where I long for it to be but it is where all my strength can muster and where all my strength can maintain it.

So my recovery is the walking of a fine line, like walking on the absolute edge of precipice, where a marginally over exuberant effort to be myself and be attached to life again can see me go over the edge and sink back into the depths of the depressive mire of my illness at a moments notice. I hate this disease and what it does to me and my family. But I am fighting and, I believe, slowly winning.

The first time - a story

2004-11-05T11:33:00.000+11:00

The haze has gradually lifted over the last couple of days to where my mind is almost as clear as usual again. I spent most of Wednesday in a miserable daze and on Thursday I was back into the swing of looking after my daughter and pushing the limits of activity so as to maintain, but not exacerbate, the remaining haze on my mind. This morning it has been good.

Perhaps a story. It was back in the mid months of 1999 and I was continuing my undergraduate degree in Arts/Science. I had just come off two years of admission to the Dean's Honours list for outstanding academic achievement and was again achieveing well in my academic pursuits ( I don't think I was quite going to have a third successive year on the Dean's Honours list as I picked up a couple of new subjects at second year,but I might have scraped across the line). By this time I had completed my majors in psychology and politics and was picking up the last few subjects I needed to graduate. I did have an offer to complete an Honours year which may have pushed this out by 12 more months but I was not sure that I was going to accept the offer.

I came through my midyear exams quite well and enjoyed the break between semesters. I was at the time the president of a university club as well so the break for me was doubly appreciated. As second semester resumed I noticed that my attendance to lectures and campus was not as often as previous and eventually my attendance stopped alltogether. All I felt was that I couldn't be bothered going to uni and consequently I didn't. During the same time I slowly but surely dropped out of my normal social world and began spending more and more time alone in the house and in front of the computer (playing games, surfing the net, emailing, chat, reading e-books - totally useless stuff). I was also alienating myself more and more from my wife by not paying any attention to her and was essentially a foreigner in our own home.

While my social behaviours were changing dramatically so were my personal habits and state of mind. I ceased being motivated to do anything at all, my mind was always agitated so I was unable to concentrate, emotionally I felt nothing at all - I was neither happy, nor sad, nor angry, just nothing - and I soon ceased the little communication I had maintined. I was in a constant state of agitation, my mind was unable to cope with normal stimuli - someone talking to me became unbearable, I was unable to read, all I could do was lay down and be blank, play basic games on a computer, or watch TV without being able to follow the story. Any interuption to this blankness caused me to react angrily but the worst part of it was I just didn't even feel the anger.

This went on for some weeks and as you can imagine the state of my marraige relationship was at a low. My wife was as isolated as I was and she just saw her life crumbling before her. This was not the man she had married or got to know over the last 6 years and it was unbearable for her. It was also embarassing - who could be told about what was happening and what could be said? Consequently my wife began avoiding her social networks to avoid answering questions about the whereabouts of her husband and the polite 'how's the husband' chit chat.

At the time of my first episode of major depression I had already majored in psychology (and had a minor in beahvioural neuroscience) and was therefore well acquainted with the processes and symptoms of abnormal psychology. Yet I was completely unprepared for, and unaware of, what I was falling into. It was not until 3-4 months after the first significant symptoms began to appear that in a moment of mental respite I considered the possibility that I had depression. I remember speaking to my wife and suggesting the possibility and it resonated with her too (my wife was already working in the health industry and had been exposed to depressed patients). So we went to see my doctor and I was diagnosed with major depression that week.

I remember the peace that occured between my wife and I after we realised what was really happening with me. The marraige was still tough and I still had most of the depressive symptoms, including severe agitation, but we were both able to process what was happening in a completely new way.

Once I had been diagnosed there was a day we decided to spend together as a couple - it was essentially my wife hanging out with a sick guy. It was the weirdest 'date' I had ever been on. We went for a picnic in the hills. To this day I have never felt so week or frail as a man. The torturuous understanding of my crumbling life remained painful but I was able to relax to the extent we finally knew what was going on. My body and brain was absolutley exhausted and I just shuffled around like an octogenerian with a blank but agitated mind that no longer perplexed us with what was occuring. When walking through the park I actually felt like I was walking on the moon and I was so very worn out. My mind too was in as complete a daze as it has ever been and there was my wife with me, the torture of not knowing what was happening gone, walking slowly at the side of a healthy looking invalid.

Throughout the entire experience of falling into depression I had insight into what was occuring. But I just felt guilty about being a lazy and about being a no good husband. I just couldn't understand why I was like that - it was so out of character - but it was how I was and it was awful to live with myself through that time. However, after being diagnosed, I looked at the official dignostic measures for major depression (DSM IV) and it became clear what was happening. The key thing for me was to be reassured that I just wasn't turning into a lazy jack-ass. The truth couldn't have been any more different and the diagnosis helped me see that.

It is interesting to note that the only symptom I did not have throughout this time was "Abnormal morbid thoughts of death (not just fear of dying) or suicide." I will get around to blogging why i think that was the case one day but for now I will leave you with copy of the diagnostic criteria for major depression from the DSM IV manual.

Diagnostic Criteria
A) At least one of the following three abnormal moods which significantly interfered with the person's life:

Abnormal depressed mood most of the day, nearly every day, for at least 2 weeks.
Abnormal loss of all interest and pleasure most of the day, nearly every day, for at least 2 weeks.
If 18 or younger, abnormal irritable mood most of the day, nearly every day, for at least 2 weeks.

B) At least five of the following symptoms have been present during the same 2 week depressed period.

Abnormal depressed mood (or irritable mood if a child or adolescent) [as defined in criterion A].
Abnormal loss of all interest and pleasure [as defined in criterion A2].
Appetite or weight disturbance, either:
-Abnormal weight loss (when not dieting) or decrease in appetite.
-Abnormal weight gain or increase in appetite.
Sleep disturbance, either abnormal insomnia or abnormal hypersomnia.
Activity disturbance, either abnormal agitation or abnormal slowing (observable by others).
Abnormal fatigue or loss of energy.
Abnormal self-reproach or inappropriate guilt.
Abnormal poor concentration or indecisiveness.
Abnormal morbid thoughts of death (not just fear of dying) or suicide.

C) The symptoms are not due to a mood-incongruent psychosis.
D) There has never been a Manic Episode, a Mixed Episode, or a Hypomanic Episode.
E) The symptoms are not due to physical illness, alcohol, medication, or street drugs.
F) The symptoms are not due to normal bereavement.

Normalish

2004-11-02T23:59:00.000+11:00

The long weekend away was great. It was filled with the normal experiences of a previously normal life. I drove the entire trip, made BBQ's each night (ie. used the grill), went walking, did 'stuff', read books, and was as close to normal as I have been for some time. I was even able to correct the insomnia that has plagued me for the last few months. The relaxed holiday pace sure helped normality endure for five days. On arrival back home the normality lingered for a few hours before being whittled away quite rapidly.

I had agreed to meet a mate shortly after arriving back and review some assignment work of his. At the same time my wife had arranged to head out for the evening and I had to supervise and feed our two year old. No big deal for the newly refreshed right? Well the brain started to freeze over with the tell tale depressive haze about half an hour into the dual tasks of essay and childcare. About an hour in and the brain was cooked (trust me - it does go from freezing to cooked like that).

Shortly after my mate left for home, the toddler was put to bed, and a few deep breaths were had, the mind recovered pretty quickly - but only back to that depressive haze. A few hours on and that's where I remain, in a bit of a haze. I am optimistic that when I wake in the morning I will be ok as long as I don't over do it.

The biggest let down in this cruel reality check was that I couldn't endure being normal in my normal environment. I just hate that my tolerance for normal activity is low if I am to remain feeling normal. Thankfully I am not feeling as frustrated with myself and my weaknesses as I normally would at this point which is a pleasant change. I suppose this has been warded off by the enduring afterglow of five days of near normality, where the only reminders I had of my illness before this evening's disappointments was the need to take my medication regularly and the secret knowledge (or self deception) that I had structured the break with my family to be normal in such a way as to be unobtrusively normalish.

Something normal

2004-10-29T01:24:00.000+10:00

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

2004-10-28T20:05:00.000+10:00

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

2004-10-27T14:09:00.000+10:00

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

2004-10-27T03:30:00.000+10:00

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?

2004-10-26T21:57:00.000+10:00

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'

2004-10-26T11:29:00.000+10:00

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.