The Aftermath of my Depression and Anxiety

It’s ironic how I wrote this blog; I wrote the content before I wrote the opening paragraph. That’s me, never do things the normal  way, just being my unique self. The main thing is, I still get the job done. This being a chronic disorder, I still have to face each day has if I’m climbing a mountain. It takes hard work, perseverance and stamina. But you do what you have to do in order to survive.

Nighttime comes and I and I anticipate my escape from my thoughts and feelings, just maybe sleep will give me some reprieve. I do sleep fairly well, thanks to mirtazaphine , but my dreams/nightmares are frightening and tormenting. Just last night, I was on a locked down physc ward and trying to escape; but there was no way out. Because of the trauma I experienced during that period of my illness, seems to haunt me even to this day. I guess it’s my biggest fear that those days will return. I try not to live in fear but deep down in my subconscious, that fear at times resurfaces. I do trust and pray that God will spare me the horrific trauma of ever having to relive that nightmare.

Morning arrives and the first thing I have to do is to debrief myself; that those dreams and nightmares are just that, they are not real. But none the less they are a constant reminder of my past living hell, that will try to follow me through my day. I guess I am still experiencing a lot of post traumatic thoughts that I just can’t turn on or shut off. But I just pray that God will one day allow me to forget.

After debriefing is done and I desperately try to move past it; I am faced with the thoughts of how am I going to face the day with my limited strength and focus. My head is in a fog. The day seems so overwhelming and I feel so powerless over it, it’s then I go to my knees and ask God once again, for the thousandth time, to give me strength, purpose and wisdom. Even when I have days when I feel I can’t do this anymore, and I do have those days, then I believe God moves in and carries me.

Do I believe my illness has made me weak? Well sometimes I do think that but then that still small voice tells me; you are strong. If I were weak I would have given up a long time ago. Society taught us has men, that if we show our emotions then we must be weak; that is so far from the truth. It does show that we have compassion, humbleness and a caring spirit.  And to those who have succumbed to this illness, I am most certainly not saying they are weak but the pain of their illness was just too unbearable. If I were weak (by society’s standards), I would have given up a long time ago. But I pray that God will give me “continued” strength for everyday that lies ahead. Because in our little family we have so many uncertainties, unknowns and fears. But we will conquer  them one day, one hour, one minute at a time, through the strength of our Heavenly Father. Because there are days when you wonder how you are going to keep going, but you just do! What choice do we have?

One of the biggest adjustments still to this day is performing a task, a task that before just came natural and you didn’t even have to think about it; you just did it. But now that task seems so big, overwhelming and I have to over rationalize it. It is still a work in progress and I believe one day will get easier. A good example would be, I’m singing in the Christmas Cantata. Now, I have been singing since I came out of the womb and absolutely love it, it’s my passion. But now it comes with much fear, thoughts of; I can’t do it, I’m not good enough, inadequate and the list goes on. I have to do much mind control and self talk to override those negative thoughts. None the less, it takes much hard work to perform any task and that can be just exhausting. My day is only half done and fatigue overwhelms me. So I do what I can, just on a lower scale and try not to take on more than I can handle.

Have you ever had a task to do and you had to go to the next room in the house to do it and by the time you got there, you forgot what the task was? Well that’s the story of my life now. Just the other day I was supposed to be returning the water jug to the refrigerator and when I realized it, I had the coffee pot; now that’s scary. Because of my disorder, it’s my brain that’s affected, thus my memory and train of thought are/was highly affected. Now whether that’s from the medication, ECT treatments or aftershocks of the disorder; I’m not quite sure what the cause is. Maybe all of the above. Whatever the case, I cannot trust to my memory anymore, if there’s something I need to remember, I have to write it down.  If I have a speaking engagement, I have to write it down; I cannot trust my mind. Then there are times when I’m in the middle of a conversation and I just loose my train of thought. This happens too frequently and becomes a little bothersome. Maybe I need to eat more bananas, they’re supposed to be brain food.

So you see, even after all this time, I still have to fight this dreaded disorder. But I am so thankful for my improvement and believing that with each day will come renewed strength. It’s because of this hope that I can face each new day, despite my disturbed feelings of depression and anxiety.