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Tag Archives: self esteem

Diagnosis: Depression

Depression.  A scary word, even scarier is the loss of control that comes with it.

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I have suspected for a while now that I was suffering from depression.  Was I going to do anything about it?  Nope.  Absolutely not.  Admitting was enough.  Admitting meant that I could work on the problem privately.  The power of positive thinking is not to be undermined.  I thought I could literally will myself happy, after all, I was the one allowing myself to be so affected by things I couldn’t control.  My doctor thought otherwise.

Almost six years ago, I developed an extremely rare condition in which my white blood cells began to attack the covering of my muscles.  I was quite literally being eaten from the inside.  I was put on radiation treatment in hopes that my blood cells could be “tricked” into thinking normally again.  I was on the medication for several years and recovering well when I developed another rare condition.  This time the white blood cells are attacking my skin.  There is no treatment for this condition.  I simply have to wait it out and it will take 4-6 years before disappearing.  Since there is literally nothing to be done about it, I grew tired of travelling 3 hours to see a specialist only to have him hum and haw and marvel over the impossibility of someone having not one but two rare conditions and parading me past his medical students as a learning specimen.  I opted out of our twice yearly visits.  I didn’t want to shun all medical care however so I made an appointment to discuss my case with my local family doctor.  I had a multitude of questions besides just wanting him to keep track of the growing spots on my limbs.  Top of my list was the effects of the drugs I was required to take.  I have inconsistent memory and frequently can’t remember little things like why I’m in the grocery store or forget school events.  Another symptom that continues to plague me is comprehension.  Some days it feels like there is a block in my brain that refuses to allow the messages to pass no matter how hard I try.  I also have difficulty with concentration.  If more than one person is speaking at a time, I become overwhelmed and cannot focus on anything.  All of these I attributed to the drugs I had taken.  Basically, I felt they had destroyed a part of my life.

My doctor had other ideas.  He immediately refuted the drug idea.  They pass out of the body within months after you stop using them.  One concern was the description of a blockage in my brain though.  I have scar tissue built up on my arms and around my ankles restricting movement and he was concerned that some scaring had occurred on the brain as well.  He suggested an MRI.  I wasn’t thrilled, especially since he couldn’t guarantee any fix, simply an answer as to why.  He kept the conversation casual and listened closely to what I had to say and finally told me I tested positive for depression.  There is an 8 question test and I tested positive for 7 of them.  I was devastated.  My dad is bipolar and his condition makes life difficult for my mother.  I did not want my husband or kids to have to deal with me like that.  Up and down.  Unstable.  Out of control.  The doctor insisted he was giving me back the control.  That the pills would help me focus instead of anxiously chasing one frantic thought after another.  I have developed a pill phobia.  Having to take any medication is a major issue for me.  I was in tears.  I didn’t need them.  I was handling things my own way.  He gently coaxed me to give it a try.  He produced a trial box and told me to come back in two weeks.  If I decided I really didn’t want them, I could simply stop.  It was up to me.

It was the hardest decision I have made.  It took almost the full two weeks to accept that I really do need the pills.  They are making a difference and I am happier and calmer than I have been.  Admitting that I had lost control actually gave me back control.  I am glad I took the time to speak with my doctor.

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Address to the Critic

Let’s face it; if you’ve followed my blog at all then you now know I suffer from extreme insecurity.  Today it hit me square in the face.  I should have known it was coming.  I had

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tossed and turned half the night defending myself to mysterious figments.  The problem is I just don’t seem to measure up to anybody’s standards.

I’m not pretty enough.  Really.  I’m three years shy of 40 with grey hairs that refuse to be hidden any longer and now require regular trips to the hairdresser.  Sorry but the whole spring chick window has been closed for me.

I weigh too much.  Yep.  I know.  I just don’t have any desire to do anything about it at the moment.  Talk to me when my stress levels have dropped 4 or 5 notches.  Better yet, come help me eliminate my stress.  I can personally guarantee a drop in weight will follow.

Get a job.  This is a really tough one for me.  I battle just as much with myself as with others who say it.  The trouble is I live in a small town that has the mistaken idea that a part-time job means 2-3 full days per week.  No half days.  This makes it difficult for a mother with children to find work.  We don’t have the option of working only during school hours.  My children would have to walk to and from school, pouring rain, blowing snow, -30 in the winter, +30 in the spring and fall.  I just don’t have the heart to make them do it.  When it’s -30 in the winter with an icy breeze blowing, it cuts your breath off.  I can’t even walk to the end of my block with a scarf wrapped around my face.  Older women have told me it’s not worth it.  Now is the time to spend with my children, a time of precious memories.  This is where my dilemma comes in.  Do I follow the wisdom of the older generation or tread the trail of my time and add extra income?

Church.   This is a biggie.  Once again it carries so much of my own expectations of myself.  The only time we missed church when I was small was a blizzard or if both my parents were sick.  I feel so much pressure to set the same model for my kids but life is more complicated.  My husband does not share the same ideal.  If I want my kids at every church meeting, I have to be the one to take them.  Then there is church itself.  I don’t attend often enough.  I don’t participate in activities.  I don’t…I don’t…I don’t.

Your son disrespects you.  He is expressing an opinion.

Your house is not clean enough.  The maid was busy.

You draw inappropriate material.  I like it.  It appeals to me.

You are lazy.  I prefer the term “slow-moving”.

You have all these business ideas yet do nothing.  One word.  Fear.

Once during one of my self-bashing tyrants, my mother told me, “God created you equal to everyone else”.  This has become a sort of motto for my life.  When I start to doubt myself, I square my shoulders and repeat this phrase.  It has helped me place one foot in front of the other and march through a new door.  Every so often, innocent comments creep under my bravado and I feel myself stooping under their weight.  I get angry.  If God created me equal, why can’t anyone else see it?!!

 

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