Into The Woods

Despite the fact that some days are great, some days are not so great. Monday, I experienced a BURST of productivity. I revamped my LinkedIn account. I organized my baking résumé. I reorganized my PT CV. Then, on Tuesday, I realized, I like taking photographs--art?! And I have this account through søciety6, which is an awesome website where artists are able to post their art, and the company, søciety6, produces and ships the art to the buyer. It's lovely. So I added a considerable amount of photographs. THEN, I socially networked myself to connect myself to myself in all of my myriad of online identities. Whew, that was weird. And exhausting.


BUT...

Despite the productivity and what I see as progress--since facing my or résumé has not been something I could do--I have not recovered. I am not yet "out of The Woods."

After my last blog post, there was an out-pouring of support. That last blog post was after about a week where I finally felt like I recognized myself. Have you ever had a time where you don't know what happened? I think It Happened for about a month for me, and I think that's relatively short. I looked It up. I meet/met most of the criteria for Major Depressive Disorder according to the DSM IV. Whoops, cat's out of the bag now. I thought I had said it before, but now, I've truly said it.

Still, I feel I've made progress. Besides, my therapist suggested I write, so I wrote, and it felt so good. I wanted to reconnect.

--Did you know that when you are depressed, reconnecting sounds like someone asking you to climb Everest in flip flops? Well, it did to me. So when I wrote that blog post and I had so much support--it was only then that I realized how dark of a place I had been in. I had shut out just about everyone (except for a select few), and I was in a place where I couldn't even receive positive feedback about myself--I couldn't hear something that sounded so very foreign. I couldn't hear about someone believing in me, because I couldn't believe in myself.

There was no insight even, until recently--until that week before the post. Then I posted. Then there was The Outpouring. And I loved every email, every Facebook message, every text. Then I tried to process it with My Partner. And I couldn't. It was too much.

The other thing when you are depressed is that EVERYTHING feels overwhelming. I mean, doing the dishes is nap-worthy.

And so, we had a glass of wine, and we tried to have dinner--we managed to have dinner. Then we were discussing and I was processing and then I was crying and I couldn't stop. I was so embarrassed, I left her my credit card, and I ran out of the restaurant and I walked home tears flowing for the entire mile-long walk. And it didn't feel good. I got home and I felt hopeless. I sobbed. My Partner called, we tried to talk on the phone, but I was in The Dark Place. Eventually, we both realized I needed company. I cried so hard for so long that the next day was a blur: puffy eyes barely willing to open, stiffened snot on most things, and the worst hangover-like headache. It wasn't a very productive day.

Since then, I have become afraid of crying.

I am slowly trying to break the pattern that crying is now something to fear. How did it get to this? I usually relish a good cry--so cathartic during and after. However, starting the night that I first realized that my physical injury was serious and that it had the potential to change my life--career ending--that was the night I started The Uncontrollable Crying. It took me by surprise. It takes me by surprise every time. It took me by surprise at the restaurant. It took My Partner by surprise. Yikes! Who the f*ck removed the warning system? Who pulled out the breaks?