No Idea

Well, that was fast. I probably should have waited until I received some feedback from our instructors before believing I was doing well because it turns out I am doing very, very poorly.

I thought I finished our check-point assessment (progress report, w/e) but it turns out I didn’t. This is due partly to not reading as carefully as I should have but I also thought a something meant one thing when it totally doesn’t. Which explains why one part didn’t make sense to me. I of course did not ask for help (which I totally could have) but left it as is, figuring it was just finished code while it turns out it was something to delete when I finished…
Then today we’re learning something called Nokogiri and I, being all cocky after the assessment, just asked Jerry to send me a file of him using it for me to look at and didn’t even attempt to play with Nokogiri as I was told to do. And then I go solo when the teachers suggest we pair and it turns out I completely misunderstood everything.
I not only misunderstood why someone would use Nokogiri (there were far more applications than I originally thought) but I also misunderstood the instructions for today’s challenge when it seems everyone else did fine. I’m going around thinking I need to get an overview of a webpage one way and it turns out there is so much more to it and I need to write most of it myself and I still don’t know how I would have gotten that from the instructions but obviously everyone else did because they’ve all finished!

I am just so fucked. I can’t even focus on the assignment anymore I’m so down. All I can think about is how fucked I would be today if a few people hadn’t told me what to do when they probably shouldn’t have.

So I now have an ‘Inner Critic’ again (it was a psych lesson they did here), I’m anxious about my abilities, reading comprehension, understanding in general.
I just feel so sick right now.
I just needed to get that out. Maybe now that I have I can focus again and actually get something done.

Pressure

Who would have thought I could be good at school?

I’ve been here for a week and a half and my anxiety has yet to show up. Everyone around me is mentioning trying to finish the exercises (which we have been informed do not need to be finished) or they’re worried about the assessment (even though you can repeat, and just about every repeat says it’s awesome). I’m just.. hanging out.

And every time I try to write an article I find I don’t have anything to really write. The lack of pressure has me on cloud seven and the fact I’m learning and finishing exercises on my own boost me to cloud nine! It was actually pretty freaky at first. I started thinking I was in denial and I was, in fact, anxious. I was just, like, hiding it… from myself… because that’s possible…

At any rate, I thought for sure I was going to need to repeat but after my checkpoint assessment I think I’m fine.

Cookies

My aunt and sister didn’t know I was awake in my room playing Alphabear (Have you played? Aren’t they adorable?!) when I heard my name mentioned. Stacey was talking about how she felt awful even though she had exercised and had a general good day. That’s when Aunt Joy blamed the cookies and as I laid there eating the last few cookies in my bag I had to agree.

I buy about two bags of eighteen chocolate chip cookies from Jewel-Osco’s bakery every three days. No, I’m not choking. And that particular day it was all I had eaten and was finally sick of them. The main reason I eat so much of them is that I can take them upstairs with me. Downstairs Aunt Joy is blasting the very distracting TV and giving me this panic-y feeling. The floor is one giant room that happens to include the kitchen so I don’t have peace to cook. So I just eat whatever I can pop in my mouth. I could totally say something to her about this but since she and I are already strained thanks to my depression and poor choices regarding chores, I don’t.

But she’s totally right, what you eat definitely affects your energy level, mood, and overall health so I’m going along with the ban on cookies… Last night I ate dinner at 10:40PM because that’s when Aunt Joy turned off the TV and went to bed. I shouldn’t have too many problems with this in the future though. Starting Monday I will be training on DevBootcamp’s campus (a programming language training program) from 9AM to 5PM at least. They say many stay later because of how frustrating the work can be so I’ll probably end up eating dinner in the surrounding area from now on and my eating environment will be the least of my concerns compared to the frustrating and never-ending feeling I’ll have while learning to program.

Self-Sabotage

I hate this. This has to be the worst part about depression. I am constantly making things worse for myself, life harder for myself, and sometimes it feels like I can’t stop. And people who don’t have depression don’t understand you’re struggling since they think you have total control over it. Well, according to this post from that resilient blog I linked earlier, it is.

She wrote down every way she was self-sabotaging herself and made an effort to keep those thoughts out.

I suppose I don’t keep those thoughts out as much as I try to stop thinking. Or I start arguing with it. Depression wins more than I’d like to admit, but perhaps if I wrote all the thoughts down ahead of time, I could stop looking at them as actual thoughts and more phrases or beliefs I’ve heard others say. I mean, it really does feel like I’m arguing with someone else half the time when these things come up. If it’s not me thinking them, if it’s not what I believe, then what do I care? They can think I’m shit for all I care; they aren’t me. They’re choices don’t affect my life on possible mind-blowing ways.

It’s a bit ironic. I’m afraid of failing but not at the same time. I’ve failed so much by my own hand it’s not so scary. Not much happens. Only if I’m failing me though. If I fail me then I don’t care but if I fail someone else it’s gut-wrenching. How do you start caring about failing yourself when not much has ever happened when you do?

…. I feel like there’s something there… something has happened and I just glance over it… maybe I should write a list about that.

Fight vs Make Peace?

This article showed up on my Pinterest and it got me thinking a bit. It was about how we view our depression and perhaps changing the words we use concerning it. Like saying we’re “fighting depression.” Fighting is exhausting… and it’s not like we’re going to win. Sure, the drugs help a lot but there can be bad days. That would make this a war with a battle everyday. That sounds accurate enough but what if we took a different approach? What if we dealt with it as we would any other illness, or perhaps, how we should deal with other illnesses. I know parents don’t get sick days, and even those who aren’t parents continue to go to work. I believe, correct me if I’m wrong, you’re supposed to listen to your body and do what it’s telling you. If it’s exhausted, take a nap. If you feel like you’re going to throw up, stop eating that thing (or drinking)!

When I was fifteen I cut myself. Well, I called it “clawing” because I never bled and sometimes used my nails. I typically used a hair-clip like the one in the photo. Anyway, once the red marks started sticking around longer and I realized someone might find out I started trying to understand what was triggering this compulsion. I started paying more attention to what I was thinking and feeling and when these were occurring, which is kind of what she says in the post.

Although I agree ‘fight’ might not be the right word, I don’t think ‘making peace’ is either. My new medication is finally working and I have no problems going outside or doing what I need to do anymore. Have I made peace with my depression? No… I still hate it. I wouldn’t say I’ve accepted it either. I just deal with it when it arises and otherwise forget about it. Is there a better way to put that?

Another Reality

I’m currently taking classes training me how to be a computer programmer. Basically, they’re just teaching me how to code. Anyway, I told my psychiatrist and she upped my dosage to deal with the added pressure. Well, that made my hands start shaking so I couldn’t do anything that took precision like, holding my phone steady to take pictures, install a water-softener… On top of that, and the main reason I went back and complained, my boyfriend informed me I was waking repeatedly from nightmares which I couldn’t remember. He’s a very light sleeper so this was a big deal to me because that’s really when we see each other the most. I’ll come over after work, have dinner, sleep over, have breakfast together and that’s it but because of the nightmares I wasn’t seeing him much at all. So much has been happening lately with my mom visiting multiple times in a month classes starting and my sister moving in, I haven’t had time to see him on the weekends so I think it was a couple weeks….? We usually see each other once during the week and on weekends so it wasn’t ‘much at all’ to us.

Sorry, I go off into details a lot.

My psychiatrist told me to start only taking half of my Bupropion (Wellbutrin) because one of their side effects was nightmares and maybe hands shaking. She also told me to start taking my Venlafaxine (Effexor) in the morning instead of before bed since that could also be the reason behind the nightmares and my waking up in the middle of the night. If both of those didn’t work, I needed to stop taking the extra 75 mg of the Venlafaxine she had given me and if THAT didn’t work, we would need to change my meds. I hate the idea of changing my meds because that’s what lost me my job, as far as I’m concerned. So I started taking all of my meds in the morning and only half of the Bupropion.

Wow.

Well, the hand shaking stopped… as did me forgetting I was having nightmares… and the ability to fight my anxiety..!

Yeah, I fell so hard… and nobody got it. My aunt’s upset with me because I’m not walking the dogs at night like I’m supposed to and not vacuuming. Hell, I’m barely eating and I’m certainly not leaving my room much..! Jerry, my boyfriend, says “Haha, sheesh..” via text because when someone tells you their meds aren’t working and they’re low that’s how you respond. I was literally in my own little horror of panic and hopelessness. I even starting typing into my phone’s notes app stuff and, I don’t exactly remember it, but I remember it was sheer fear… and panic about what that fear was doing to me… I haven’t read it because I’m a little afraid to see how scary and ‘psychotic’ I sound. Anyway, after that hell of a night (never has that saying fit so perfectly), I stopped taking the extra dosage of Venlafaxine and I settled back to normal. Thank god. Really the worst of it was that one night but the fall and rise took the better part of two weeks of my life. Which is why I am repeating three weeks of my training classes. I couldn’t shower let alone do school work. Thankfully my teacher understood and allowed me to repeat without paying the fine or it counting against me.

Sometimes I really wish I could explain what the suffering is like… that was probably the most upsetting part because I couldn’t ask for help any where. And of course I’m in between therapists, AGAIN, because my insurance changed and she’s not covered. What perfect timing to fall, am I right?

There was one time though I seemed to get through to Jerry. I’ve always been a journal keeper but I’m not nearly as dedicated as I was in school when I had so much… free time(?? I should never be a school mentor… or tutor.. or school anything..).

Anywho.

I had it out the weekend he and I got back together and there were a few entries of my logic behind all of my thoughts and decisions and I let him read. He’s reading it over and we’re commenting about how I could write so much on one topic. Then it was his amazement at what my mind used to be like. I was just sitting there going “yup.. that’s what it was like.. all the time..” and he’s going “It’s insane… but totally logical..!” (I provided evidence to my reasoning), then after a couple seconds he goes “You know I love you, right?” The entries were basically me over-thinking and questioning every word, phrase, and body language movement he was doing at the time. I think that has to be the one time he had an inkling of an understanding what living with a screwed up mind was like… Maybe I should make him read my phone notes…

So that was my… month… how’s yours been?

Concealing Depression

Alright fine, I give up. This started as a blog about depression and it appears it’s going to stay that way.

I came across an article while browsing Pinterest about concealing depression. I decided this was something worth talking about because I can revert back to these nasty habits. It’s important to acknowledge when you’re starting to fall downward so you can single out the cause and perform any coping mechanisms you might have learned through therapy or through your own trial and error. I’ve forcing myself to go outside and take a short walk can do wonders since I tend to be cooped up inside too much. If you isolate yourself like me, a trip to the library or forcing yourself to hang out with a friend, even though you really don’t want to can make a huge difference.

I know that last part probably sounded horrible to you, “forcing yourself” to hang out with a friend. I don’t mean spend time with someone you don’t like, I mean if you really want to just stay inside and lay around all alone then do the opposite! That’s your depression talking- don’t listen!

For those of you who have loved ones who suffer from depression I hope you’ll read this article. Actually, I hope everyone reads the article because maybe you’ll find you know someone who fits these characteristics and learn they’ve been suffering in silence. Support isn’t a plus for someone suffering from depression; it’s crucial.