My Monster

Tonight is another fight with my monster - depression is again clawing at my heart and my rationality.  It takes everything I have to fight it. Depression takes every bit of common sense, of reason, of logic, of hope and optimism and stamps it out as if none of it had ever existed, and it pulls me down into a deep, dark pit of pain, despair and hopelessness. Sometimes it overwhelms me to the point of total apathy and I'm, for a time, thankfully numb to the pain. I say thankfully because, truly, those moments of apathy are a welcome reprieve from the clawing I feel inside my chest like a true, physical pain.

Sometimes I cry, other times tears escape of their own will through no intent of my own while I lie staring at the ceiling or into the dark of my room, and other times my body is wracked with silent sobs that are so intensely violent my back suffers jolts of sharp, stabbing pain like some great beast is trying to wrench its way out of me through those sobs. Why silent? I don't know. I've never really been able to bring myself to make a sound when I cry during heavily depressive phases. I think, if I'm totally honest, it's partly shame. I'm ashamed of the mental pity party I have that elicit the tears. The thoughts I have both at the time and in hindsight seem so stupid and petty and petulant to me when so many are suffering worse that I don't want anyone to overhear my tears and ask me what's wrong, because then I might have to speak them aloud and I don't want them to hear how stupid my brain is being. So I suffer my depression as I suffer my chronic pain - in silence.

I know this is dangerous to do, should I ever start to lose my fight, but I assure you were it ever to reach that point I would speak out. I promise. And perhaps even now I should. But I really do feel utterly stupid for how my brain thinks when I'm like this. I know my mom would never judge me, but she has enough on her plate.

The truth is, a lot of it is just... genuine loneliness. Aside from my immediate family, I have no friends offline. Everyone I know is all over the place, globally. The nearest in Ontario. I can't drive, so it's not like I can go out and find places to go to meet people and do fun things. And I don't live in a major city so Uber is out of the question, not to mention I can't afford it anyway, really.

My entire future is one gigantic question mark, and most days, I just...can't deal with that. I sit here and wonder, almost every night, about what kind of future I'll have. Will I ever get married to a decent man(unlike my emotionally abusive and manipulative ex husband), and if so when and how the hell am I supposed to meet him in the first place? Will I have kids, and if so, how many? I'm turning 31 in December and the ol' oven has a shelf life before the proverbial D20 roll stars getting riskier. Not to mention if I do have kids, what are the odds that they'll have chronic illnesses that I have? Do I even want to have biological kids in that case, even though it's something I've always wanted? Or a that just being selfish as fuck when I'm putting their health at risk and so many kids are out there needing a good home?

Thoughts like those are just a few of many that race through my mind when the monster's on my back. And I can't make it stop. I don't know how. I just have to grin and bear it until it finally lets go and I can breathe again.

I don't know what to do.

About anything.

And that is the most terrifying and haunting thought of them all.

Romantic Relationships as a Spoonie (And Why I'm Jaded)

So, the About Me thing is tiny. Teeeeny really. There wasn't enough room for me to really go into details about being a Spoonie (A person with one or more chronic illnesses) or anything like that... And then I discovered the blog area and went, "Ah ha!"

The truth is, I'm mostly on here to find friends. I've become jaded to the aspiration of finding a husband and ever having children though this has been a long-held dream. Why? Because... I'm a Spoonie. Now, before you jump in and say anything (Can you comment? I don't know, but, just the same, keep reading) allow me to explain.

I've been living with my chronic illnesses and daily chronic pain since I was ten years old; I turn 30 in December. I can count on one hand the number of romantic relationships I've been in, and only two of them became serious; I was engaged twice, and married once. That marriage lasted eight months before we separated and then legally divorced. Now, this man I married, whom we shall call Joe, no, no, I like that name... Um. Jack. Jack works, that's nice and common. I had known Jack for YEARS. We gamed together all the time, we Skyped, we talked about real life, we stayed up late laughing our asses off at the stupid stuff we came up with or that happened in game and in real life, some of which in spite of my bitter feelings toward him still make me smile and laugh to this day.

Jack knew everything about me, and about my illnesses. He knew there were days I literally could not get out of bed without help, even to walk the six or so feet from my own door to the bathroom door where the counter would be available to support me. Tack on the distance from where my bed was...oh, about nine feet in all. My mother, who at the time was in her early 60s,  had to help me out of the bed and to the bathroom due to the joint and muscle pain I have. I had to miss doctor appointments because I was too sick to go in, if that isn't ironic, I don't know what is. I had and still have migraines that can last for up to ten days at a time, where the tiniest sound or the most dim light is excruciatingly painful.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You may ask... Well, you can google these yourself, buuuuut. I have Fibromyalgia, I have hypermobile type Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, I have a type 1 Arnold-Chiari malformation, I have chronic fatigue syndrome, have degenerative disc disease, I have cervical ridiculopathy, I have arthritis in my knees, and most likely in my hips, I have sciatica, I have depression, I have anxiety, I have bipolar affective disorder, I have chronic insomnia, I have irritable bowel...well, to be honest, I have a 3" thick file of medical records. That's what I have. I have too many acronyms. That's what I have. I also have some unknown heart condition that I'm currently in testing for; it isn't beating right - early A-fib, for those of you who know what that is. What they're going to do about it depends on the results of the test. The heart thing is new. The rest? Was already there.

He knew.

Now, the thing about chronic illnesses and chronic pain is the fact that one day, I can be bedridden, needing my mom or crutches to get to the bathroom and back to my bed, and by the time I get back from that, I'm so exhausted I have to take a nap! I'm not even joking. But them, the very next day, I'm just fine and able to conquer the world and do anything a normal person does. It follows no rhyme or reason, no schedule. Sometimes, I can have weeks or months of remission before the chronic pain train runs me over again.

The first few months we were married, I was in a remission. I think it was in part due to the climate change - I moved from Indiana to Arizona. But then I got sick with a nasty strep infection, and wham. Everything snowballed. I couldn't be the perfect maid/housewife anymore, leaving the house spotless and having dinner ready when he got home from his desk job so he could sit and play games and smoke pot all evening. I was also dealing with a surge of depression, mostly, I think, from being so horribly homesick. I've always been very close with my family, and they were across the country. So I began to do what I always do when I'm in extreme physical and/or emotional pain. I began to recluse. That is my fault, my error, in this whole mess. I shut myself in our bedroom, hiding away from everything, suffering my pain in silence. I told him about it, when he asked, but in spite of his insurance we could magically never afford a doctor, yet we always had money for him to get takeout or him to buy pot. Amazing.

I wasn't aware that we were actually having -marital- problems. I wasn't. He never said anything. The house was going to hell in a hand basket because he and our roommate apparently had no idea how to wash a dish or clean up after themselves, so it fell to me to clean the literally molding dishes while I was in tears from pain because neither one of them could bother to. I did that once, and I couldn't do it again. Neither one of them could do the grocery shopping, either. Jack bugged me about our being low on groceries, so I suggested he go, but he refused to go without me. I think he simply thought I was being lazy.
Food supplies dwindled, and eventually, while Jack and our roommate were getting takeout because he picked our roommate up from work on his way home (rarely if ever thinking to get anything for me) I subsisted on canned mixed vegetables and peanut butter sandwiches when the ramen finally ran out. Jack meanwhile commented to my mother on the phone, I later found out, that I was looking great because I had even lost weight. Yeah, jackass, I was starving! I also later found out from my mother and eldest brother that he was talking to them, and his family, about our marital problems but not to me; he was talking to everyone BUT me, I had no idea anything was wrong, at all. He was a very non-confrontational individual, but that was ridiculous.
On the night we decided to divorce, my mother called me to warn me he had filed papers and was planning to just spring it on me out of nowhere. MY MOM KNEW I WAS GETTING A DIVORCE BEFORE I DID! How screwed is that?

But ... digressing... All of that has made me so horribly, horribly jaded about getting into a romantic relationship as a Spoonie. Yes, I am an excellent housewife when I have the ability; I will keep the house spotless and I will cook you a kickass dinner that will be ready or nearly ready the second you walk in the house from work, because I see that as my contribution as I can't work. But when I don't have the ability... That's where the problems lie. When I don't have the energy to even take care of MYSELF. How am I supposed to take care of anything else? How am I suppose to expect there's anyone out there... Anyone at all... Willing to deal with that shit? With the regular doctor visits, with the necessary regular testing, with the unpredictable nature of my illnesses.... I can barely deal with it, so... How can I expect,or even ask, anyone else to?

I've been told I'm a great person, I'm kind, I'm generous, I'm loving and compassionate, and all that. That may be true, but... I'm also honest. Especially with myself. Sometimes, maybe a little too much. I honestly can't see someone wanting to deal with this, no matter what they think of me, no matter how great of a person I may or may not be.... And why would I want them to when I know they could be happier and have a less complicated life with someone else? And...truthfully... How could I have children knowing I might pass this hell onto them?

Maybe this is the depression talking. Or maybe.... For once... I'm just being real with myself and telling myself to just... Give it up. Hang up the dream and just... I don't know. Become an old cat lady. Or something.

Triggering - What It Is, Isn't, and Why It Isn't A Bad Thing

(EDIT: Fixed autocorrect of psychologist to psychiatrist... It was meant to be psychologist. Stupid iPad.)

Good day to you lovely person, whomever and wherever you are! First and foremost, allow me to open by stating that I am a mostly-recovered PTSD sufferer (I still occasionally have flashback-nightmares, but this is normal) and suffer from anxiety, bipolar affective disorder and depression (Yes, it is possible to have depression while also being bipolar.) All of these conditions have been diagnosed by doctors and psychologists, the latter of which aren't looking to just throw pills at me as psychologists cannot prescribe prescription medications.

That being said, it's time to discuss the over abundance of the usage of the word "trigger." Anymore, people are using it to describe any negative emotion, emotional discomfort (or physical discomfort brought on by emotional discomfort), etc. That is not what triggering is. At all. Triggering is, specifically, when a symptom of a diagnosed mental illness is provoked by specific subject matter. Got that down? Good! Now, let's move on to emotional discomfort in general - we'll get back to triggering later - and other negativities and why they aren't bad things.

When you experience negative emotion and emotional discomfort, sure, it's unpleasant and everyone would prefer to avoid it, but realistically, that isn't possible - and it isn't healthy. You need to experience negative emotion to have a healthy emotional balance and to grow emotionally and as an individual. People born with disabilities and mental illnesses that stunt their emotional spectrum often have extreme difficulty fitting into society due to this lack of growth as a person; they can't relate and empathize as well with others. Experiencing negative emotion can also be cathartic - have you ever watched a movie that made you cry your eyes out, and found yourself feeling better later on than you had in days or even weeks? It hits an emotional release valve and allows you to feel and express emotions that you had been keeping closed off.

Now, on to triggers, and why they aren't bad. The primary healing factor in recovering from my PTSD was... Exposing myself to triggers. In fact, that is the primary course of non-medication therapy. Exposure to triggers, be it with anxiety or PTSD, is like drawing venom from a wound. Or, for another analogy, like hitting the same spot over and over until it eventually goes numb. Yes, it's painful, and it sucks, and it's the hardest thing you're going to do. But avoiding triggers is literally the worst thing you can do for your mental health unless otherwise specified by your mental health professional!! There was a time where looking at a stranger much less touching them would have my anxiety so incredibly triggered I wouldn't be able to catch my breath from how hard my heart was racing, and I would be dizzy from not only the loss of oxygen but from the shift in blood pressure. Now? The past two weeks in a row I've gotten my nails done - basically spending about an hour holding hands with someone I've never looked at before much less met, talking with them and joking around, laughing, etc. Trigger exposure has done that for my anxiety. I still have anxiety attacks from time to time, but typically they have to do with my health or with conflict going on around me.

More and more evidence is flooding into the mental health community that trigger exposure is highly beneficial in recovery from PTSD and treatment of anxiety with, of course, consultation with your mental health provider. Avoiding triggers isn't the way to go, it's the opposite of trying to help yourself, it's hiding from the problem, it's in fact letting your mental illness control you, and avoiding true recovery/treatment and help. It's time to stop hiding. It's time to stop telling the world to change because you have a problem when in reality you're telling the world to change because a problem has you. Take control of the problem. You have the strength, you have the ability, and you have the tools to do it. So do it.

Book Review: How to Weep In Public by Jacqueline Novak

To say that How to Weep in Public is relatable would be a gross understatement; I've suffered from depression for a large portion of my life, and like Jacqueline, and most anyone with depression, have periods of good and bad, where I'm “better” and “worse.” I was mildly cynical – no, perhaps the better term would be “apprehensive” now that I think of it; or something between the two – when I chose a book about depression as my first book in the BFB program. You see, this has been one of my worse periods, of late. I've fallen into that mind-and-body numbing apathy of depression where very little is interesting or entertaining, and even just reading is too much, sometimes, and reading is by far my favorite pastime. However, before I was even two pages into the introduction, I was hooked. No, more than that. I was smiling! Before much longer, I was laughing! Big, doofy belly laughs in an otherwise silent room that would surely have had the family dog looking at me like I was loony were he in the room (thankfully, he was not, thus I faced only the judgment of my fish) and it only got better from there.

In the introduction, Jacqueline states that there will be no promises of help; that she's just there to keep you (the reader) company. She kept her promise – there were no promises of help, and she did very much so keep me company. However, the “liability” for my feeling better she tried to shirk on the last page, I will not allow. I was, by the end of the book – that I had not read so much as inhaled in the course of an evening with the voracity of someone starving stumbling upon a free buffet – feeling better. Yes, my apathy is still present, but the overwhelming weight of the world feels lighter, and the fact she simply made me laugh as much as she did was incredible.

Be aware, however; this book will not be for everyone – Jacqueline does use some four-letter words, and sexual metaphors, both of which are typically utilized to lighten the mood, and they do so quite well, but I also find they help get certain points across in a much more direct manner than if they had been more primly stated. Instead of flowery words, we have the very real experiences of a woman who has spent literally her entire life in the trenches of depression, and is unapologetic in both her use of aforementioned metaphors, but is very to-the-point and direct about what she has to say. Her use of wit and sarcasm, her self-esteem issues and her occasional cynical remarks speaks to me greatly, as I myself am a highly sarcastic, cynical individual with self-esteem issues, as I've come to learn many people with depression tend to be. Is this, perhaps, due to a common link between the aforementioned and intelligence, and thusly, intelligence and depression? Perhaps so, but science is still scratching its... head.. about exactly what causes depression in the grand scheme of things, so speculation is all there is.

There was, genuinely, not a single thing I didn't adore about this book. I know it will be one I will read again, and again, and again, and I'm sure each time I read it, I will glean more from it in the re-read than I did in the time before, as is often the case with literature (and, let's face it, my memory isn't the best, so I'll always forget things, here and there, too.) If you're looking for a book on depression that's real, that's hilarious, and that is a genuine guide to how to get through life with depression, I highly recommend this book to you. I, in fact, can't recall a non-fiction work that I've enjoyed as much as I have this book, so truly, that only adds to my recommendation, to be honest with you.

I received this book from the Blogging for Books program in exchange for this honest and unbiased review.

An Update and Annoucement

Well, life has had its ups and downs lately; fibro flares, bipolar mood swings, you name it, life has thrown it at me. It's said God never gives you more than you can handle... Sometimes I do so wish He didn't trust me quite so much! LOL!

Overall my pain level has been higher than usual but it's the turn of the seasons, and with the weird weather in the Midwest, and the stress - emotional and otherwise - in my life lately, that's understandable. I go for my first counseling appointment Monday; I'm pretty nervous about it honestly, but I know I need it. I need an unbiased third party to be able to talk to about everything, and I know I have a lot of unresolved emotional issues that I need to talk about.

As to my announcement, well, there are a few. First. I won my disability claim! I've been receiving checks since March and am anxiously awaiting my first back pay check. I'm not thrilled with social security's back pay system; it's three payments, one every six months, then my SSD payments start. It's basically going to take three years for me to get my full back pay. Annoying? Very.

Second announcement: You're going to start seeing book reviews on here! I joined a site called Blogging for Books - which is just what it sounds like; you sign up, select what sorts of books you like, then pick a free book to receive in exchange for publishing an honest blog review on their website and your own blog. I'm looking forward to it! :D my first book will be here in 10-14 days and once I've read it I'll have my review up!

So. Stay tuned! I'll be picking not only health related items (This one deals with depression) but religion, fiction, non-fiction, whatever strikes my fancy and sounds like something I'd enjoy and be able to write a sound review on :) looking forward to reviewing for them - and for you all.

Check them out at bloggingforbooks.com if you have a blog (I don't know if tumblr counts, but goodreads, Facebook, and Twitter don't) and can do a good three paragraphs of an honest review plus a disclaimer in return for a free book or ebook! They even cover shipping!!!!

Depression: The Roller Coaster Aspect

A lot of people without depression don't realize that for the majority of us, there's an almost bi-polar aspect to it. No, I'm not saying that it IS bi-polar, or that those with depression are bi-polar, nor am I in any way trivializing or marginalizing bi-polar disorder. I was actually misdiagnosed with bi-polar disorder when a combination of birth control pills and undiagnosed/untreated hypothyroidism had my moods swinging so fast not even I could keep up. (I was very nearly committed at one point during an emotional extreme.)

What I mean by this, is how at one moment, you can be just fine, having a good day, you're happy, laughing, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, you can hear Louis Armstrong singing in the background. That kind of a good day, you know? Then for no reason, and completely out of the blue, all of that disappears, and your mood goes downhill so fast you'd think it was an avalanche.

 For me, it feels like there's something alive inside of my chest, clawing and chewing away at every good feeling until it leaves an empty hole there. It isn't numb, at least not all the time - there are moments of apathy. But it's just...a very heavy emptiness. Nothing is interesting, nothing is fun, no matter how much it normally is. Sometimes I cry, most times I don't, because it's really not a feeling that, in and of itself, is inherently sad. It's just... a nothing that weighs as much as an elephant, sitting right there in the middle of my chest, and it more often than not evokes this feeling of intense frustration and anger that tends to cause me to lash out at those around me for the stupidest things, though for the most part I've learned how to control that, and my family has learned that, when I'm going through this sort of mental problem, to keep their heads down so to speak.

Then, just as quickly, that low can disappear for the same non-reason as it appeared and it's right back to Louis Armstrong again. Sometimes it can disappear after just a few minutes, sometimes hours, sometimes days, or weeks...months.

The thing is, depression doesn't just present as sadness. It can present as anger, as frustration, as intense apathy, as ennui... there's so many faces that depression wears, and it can change its face so much and so fast, half the time I'm tempted to call it Jaquen H'ghar.

I've developed a lot of coping mechanisms over the years to help deal with these lows. I do something productive, whether it's knitting or sewing, or I clean if I'm physically up to it. If I'm having a really good day, physically, I work out or do something labor intensive. Today, I went out for about two hours and raked leaves. I got about 3/4 of our yard done. I know that doesn't sound like a lot for two hours work, but we live on nearly a half acre, and we have nine oak trees and a birch, as well as a maple in the side yard that often blows leaves into our front yard. Lots. Of. Leaves. I'll eat chocolate and binge-watch my favorite TV shows (usually Supernatural; watching "my boys" battle literal demons and monsters, and their own figurative demons, helps me with my own). But sometimes, those coping mechanisms just don't cut it.

Today has been one of those days. Raking leaves really did help for a couple of hours... but then I started the slide downhill again. Chocolate and Supernatural didn't help, so now I'm watching Doctor Who. I can't really knit, as I'm making myself a scarf, but I'm almost out of one of the yarns I'm using, and I need to get more before I can really do much more work on it. So as it stands, I'm sitting here with that monster clawing at the inside of my chest again and there's nothing that I can do to fend it off.

I could try working out, but after working so hard outside, I'll likely in a fair bit more pain than my normal level tomorrow, any more physical stress and I risk triggering a Fibro Flare that'll last weeks if not months, and right now is not a good time for me to be out of commission. My family needs me physically capable of picking up slack for various reasons, and I can't - no. I WON'T let them down, no matter what.

So, that being the case, I'm at a loss. I have no idea what to do to help pull myself out of this slump, and it seems all I can do is just wait for it to pass. I hope to God it does so soon. I'm fairly certain my antidepressants need increased, and I'll be making an appointment with my doctor or his NP as soon as I can to see to that. I should also, or perhaps, first, get my thyroid levels checked; low thyroid hormones can trigger worsening depression, too.

So, if anyone reading this has depression and experiences the same thing I'm going through... you aren't alone in this. I go through it, and so do many others. We're in this together, even if we're thousands of miles apart. We're fighting this same giant beast that wants to destroy us. I'll always keep fighting, and I have no intentions of letting my story end with 'I gave up.' Some days that's harder than others, but I'm so incredibly fortunate to have the love and support of my wonderful and amazing family and friends behind me. I took them for granted for a long time, but eight months without them made me realize just how lucky I was to have them, and have them so close. I'll never take for granted having them right here with me, fighting the same fight I am - the fight against the pain, the fight against the inner monsters, and the fight against anyone who dare say our pain, be it mental or physical, isn't real, because it damn sure is.

The System Has Made Me A Cynic

Sorry it's been so long since I've posted.

I finally, FINALLY, after over a year now since I first filed with the aid of a lawyer.... actually I think it's been over a year since I was denied and subsequently appealed, received a notification from Social Security that I have a hearing date scheduled for January 20th.

While this is, generally speaking, good news, I'm not exactly jumping for joy.

The truth is, I've been living with this horse hockey my body throws at me for 18 years, and in all of that time, every benefit I've ever received from the government - be it local or federal, and really, the only ones I've ever gotten approved on have been local, being foodstamps and, until more recently given the change in laws here, Medicaid - has been fought for tooth and nail. Food stamps weren't as difficult as Medicaid. Getting Medicaid for the first time, I was denied, and had to appeal with assistance from a group that worked through a hospital to help people such as myself.

Now, with the change in laws here, you can't really get Medicaid if you aren't a mother or aren't receiving Social Security benefits.

I've been trying for years now, literally, years, to get Social Security. I've applied and appealed, and applied and appealed again. Every time, I was denied. Every time, they say I'm healthy enough to work. They don't live in this body, they don't live with my brain. How the hell can they know I can work based off of a 10 minute physical exam from a doctor that has no rapport with me, and whatever they decide is worth listening to in medical records, which apparently is nothing at all?

The system here really isn't at all fair. I would honestly love to work. I really would. But it's just not a realistic undertaking. Employers don't want someone who will be erratic in their availability, and who has so many doctor-ordered restrictions.

The appeal hearing will be different in the sense that I will be able to speak for myself, I'll be able to offer my side of the story, they'll have a face to go with all of that paperwork, and they can get more insight other than just what's written down. In spite of that though... I just can't muster any real optimism. I can't.

Those of you reading this that know me well, you know how big of a deal that is. I'm forever the optimist, the positive one, the  everything happens for a reason type. But this? I just feel like it's a higher step to stand on before I get knocked down to the bottom of the stairwell again.

You're probably wondering why I even bothered trying if I don't think I'm going to win. The truth is... I'm trying because I have to. Because I don't really have any other choice or any other options available to me at this point in time. I have to keep fighting, even if it's a futile battle, and hope that maybe sometime, somewhere down the line, someone will hear my voice over the din and actually listen and understand.

Who knows, that may even be this judge that I see in January. I doubt it. But, maybe.

The thing is, all of these denials, all of these hoops I've had to jump through for every little scrap the government wants to give me... it's sucked the positivity and optimism out of me when it comes to anything related to things like that. It's just... I'm going 'well, I may as well do it, I've got nothing better to do, right?'

I know that sort of attitude won't help. I know that sort of energy won't help. But I literally cannot help it. I try to have faith that it'll work out, and I pray constantly that it will, but there's only so many times I can get kicked in the teeth before I start putting my hands up before the boot can reach me.

Growing Up Chronically Ill

I started having chronic pain at the age of ten, thanks to a whiplash injury triggering the onset of Fibromyalgia. Chronic pain became a fact of life for me; needless to say, I kind of grew up pretty quickly because of it. I have no recollection of what it’s like to be a ‘normal kid’ or a ‘normal teen.’

At the age of 7, I was pulled out of public school for home schooling - my immune system was crap; I attended one more day in the first semester of first grade than I was out sick, if that gives you an idea. So, I had very little socialization with kids my own age, and at 16 I went to an adult education facility to work towards my diploma as opposed to a GED. Around here, that basically means I was suddenly thrown into a crowd of dropouts and people that were expelled - generally not a good crowd. That went about like you’d expect, and I wound up, after legal trouble, getting my GED. 

Now, I told you that story to tell you this one.

I’ve worked two jobs in my whole life. Just two. The longest one lasted about two months, and even that had multiple call-offs which lead to my being fired, the shortest one lasted a week because, hello crap immune system, I got sick, and had to call off multiple days in a row thanks to not being able to talk (it was a call center job.) Boom, fired.

I’m now 28. No job experience, extremely limited in what I can do for work - by doctor’s verification and where applicable, orders, I can’t sit for very long, or stand for very long(15-30 minutes). I can’t lift anything over about 15 pounds, I can’t squat habitually, I can’t kneel, I can’t climb ladders or stairs. All of these things are detrimental to my health. I also can’t look down or look up for extended periods due to what’s called a Chiari Malformation - a part of my skull didn't form right and a small part of my brain, the cerebellar tonsils, have herniated down into my neck. Bending my head down or leaning it up applies pressure and tension in this area and triggers extreme migraines as well as other neurological symptoms. 

I have Reynaud’s Syndrome which causes my hands and feet to randomly go ice cold, blue purple and black, or sometimes bloodless white, and be completely numb. As if the Chiari didn't cause me issues with my grip let’s throw that in there too. If I worked a desk job, they’d need extra insurance against people having their eyes put out with the pencils and pens I would accidentally throw when trying to pick them up - although I don’t think there are many insurance policies that cover ‘pencil in the eye.’ 

I have arthritis in my knees, degenerative disc disease in my thoracic spine, scoliosis, the list goes on. 

Take all of this into consideration, and please, if you have ANY ideas… tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do for work. Because according to FSSA and the government? I’m not disabled. There are jobs out there I can do! WHO THE HELL IS GOING TO HIRE SOMEONE WHO IS GOING TO CALL OFF ANYWHERE FROM ONE TO TWELVE TIMES A MONTH?! AT RANDOM?! AFTER BEING FINE THE DAY BEFORE?!

Do you see my issue here? Do you see why I’m so continually pissed at the government for making me fight so hard for disability? The state government for taking my food stamps because I’m not working 30 hours a week? 

This has been my life since forever, only it’s been getting progressively worse. I have very little self worth because hey what the hell am I contributing to anything? I can’t even earn my keep, I can’t even contribute the $200 a month from food stamps to cover my food in lieu of rent to my parents! 

How in God’s name am I supposed to feel anything but utterly terrible about myself about things that aren't even my fault when my government is telling me I can do things that I can’t do? That I've never been able to do! I can’t even provide the necessities of life to myself! Everything I have my parents have bought for me - my food, my clothes, my phone, my furniture (except my bedroom set that I inherited from my grandmother). There are things that I literally need to try to improve my quality of life that I can’t get because I don’t have the money and neither do they! 

I just don’t understand how the government can look at the 2″ and change stack of medical records and tell me I can work, tell me I’m just being lazy, tell me I’m not worth the barely-able-to-be-lived-on monthly stipend they would give me. 

I also don’t understand how they don’t understand what that does to me. It makes me question my own sanity, whether I really am just crazy, that maybe all of this pain that I’ve lived with for 18 years is all in my head and I’m just screwed up enough to believe it’s real and if I just snapped out of it everything would be okay. But God I know that’s not true. I do. It just. I can’t. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m in tears as I’m writing this because it just hurts so much. I don’t know what life is. I don’t.Because I've never had the opportunity to really live it. 

And I don’t know how to deal with that, either.

(P.S. I apologize for the somewhat disjointed A-to-Q-to-C nature of this post, my brain is just as much all over the place as this post.)

The Parts of Depression No One Tells You About

I think honestly one of the hardest parts of depression is the overwhelming self-deprecation. There have been so many times I go to make a post on Facebook or Twitter, or something of the like, and I delete everything I've typed thinking, 'No one cares. Who wants to hear you whine? God, stop being such a pain.' I always feel like even mentioning my depression, or my chronic pain, to anyone save one or two people is just unnecessary whining, like they're just listening to be polite, or sitting there silently hoping I'll shut up.

It's a very lonely feeling, even if you know, logically, that it isn't true, that people do care, that people do want to help and to listen... it doesn't matter. Because logic plays no part in depression.

No one ever told me how overwhelmingly isolated and lonely I'd feel, I never heard about how instead of crying and feeling sad all the time like I always thought depression would be... that more often it's this heavy, incredibly empty feeling that feels like an invisible weight in the center of your chest that's threatening to consume you and everything you love and enjoy. No one ever told me that I'd constantly feel like a burden, or that I wasn't good enough, or that I'd outright hate myself at times just because of who I am and because of things outside of my control. No one ever told me that the good days would be great, but that sometimes those days would make the bad ones seem even worse because people don't understand that just because you were fine the day before doesn't mean you'll be fine the next. No one ever told me that the days my pain was at its worst, I tended to be at my emotional best, because at least then I was feeling something, even if it hurt.

There are so many things that I never knew until my depression escalated. I never realized that I took for granted the simple act of enjoying something I'm doing, rather than just sitting there doing it to pass the time. I also never realized how much this monster in my mind would effect my self-worth - of which I have very little at times, or my relationships with friends and family. How much I'd want to just completely isolate myself and hide myself away because the world beyond my little sanctuary makes me feel more alone and without value than ever. What value does society place on someone who can't work? Not much.

As far as romantic relationships go, I honestly stopped even trying... who wants someone that they'd have to take care of, that's both physically disabled and  dealing with depression? At least that's been my thought on it. I don't know, maybe I'm way off. Maybe I'm not. I honestly have no idea.

No one ever talks about how much of your life depression will get into, how many things it'll tear apart and break down, how much it'll hurt, and how often you'll just become completely numb where you stop feeling and stop caring about anything.

Maybe they should start.