The Purpose of Our Suffering

There are so many aspects of depression that are difficult to deal with and overcome. As I’ve sat in many therapy sessions, the question that haunts me the most is, “Why can’t I feel God’s love for me?” And, “Why can’t I feel love from others?”

This one question, more than any others I have struggled with, has caused me the deepest sorrow, and most reflection. Logically, I know God loves me. I know many friends and family love me as evidenced by their attempts to help me feel better. Yet for some reason, I can’t feel any of that love.

Not feeling loved is something I have always struggled with. I honestly don’t know why. Logically I know it to be true, but I can’t feel it, and therefore question its truth. Knowing and feeling are two completely different things. If those aren’t in sync, it throws everything else off.

I’ve questioned my sanity. I’ve questioned my ability to tell the difference between right and wrong. All because I can’t seem to sync these two phenomena in my mind.

I’ve also cried out in prayer (screamed actually… just this morning driving in my car), “Why am I here? Why am I alive? Is there no forgiveness for me?” I have become convinced that I have committed something so heinous that I am beyond forgiveness, and Heavenly Father is bound and can’t share His love with me. I often think how I hate the person I’ve become. Moody, always sad, crying a lot, feeling like even the simplest of things are impossible to do.

But worst of all, I’ve felt completely abandoned. I think we can all agree, without citing a bunch of scholarly journal articles, that love is a basic human need. Not being able to feel that, no matter how hard I tried, left me barely breathing as the negative thoughts circled through my head. This absence of love feels like a black hole surrounding me. Anything good that comes my way gets sucked in – and away from me. The pain has been so tangible, I’ve reached out into the air around me, trying to push it away. I’ve cried, screamed and yelled, asking why I’m alive if my only purpose is to hurt those around me or spread this emptiness.

No answers.

So I’ve continued, day after day, feeling completely alone, shunned even by my creator – even though logically I knew this wasn’t true. Recently I’ve taken to pleading with Him to allow me to feel some semblance of hope, love, forgiveness, acceptance from Him.

Still nothing.

My sense of loss, this morning, reached an all-time low. I started once again, for the thousandth time this year, to think of how I could most peaceably and discretely end my life.

Then today, I visited www.lds.org searching for this month’s Visiting Teaching Message (Women in the LDS church strive to visit a few other women in their congregation on a monthly basis, called visiting teaching, to provide friendship and help). I was distracted by the words on the homepage, “Are your trials changing you for the better?” This linked to a new video titled “The Refiner’s Fire”. The woman in the video shared her experience losing two (almost three) of her children and her husband to cancer. She made the comment that the experience was like Newton’s Law – for every action there is an equal and opposing reaction. The only way she can now “mourn with those who mourn and comfort those that stand in need of comfort” (Mosiah 18:9) is because she has gone through it herself. She now finds joy in helping others in their times of pain.

After watching this, I remembered a conversation I had with my sister-in-law this weekend. I brought up a phrase in my patriarchal blessing (a blessing given to worthy members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints offering counsel from the Lord. More here.) that talks about love. I mentioned I thought it was ironic that it would talk about me loving others, when I can’t feel love from anyone. How am I supposed to do what I was put here on earth to do, if I can’t feel love? It makes me feel so selfish and self-absorbed – the opposite of love.

Then it hit me. If my purpose in life is to love others, how can I accomplish that if I don’t fully comprehend and know what a complete lack of love feels like? How can I completely love those around me, if I don’t know what it’s like to feel that never-ending, all-consuming pain of being abandoned when you need it most?

Then I thought, isn’t that exactly what Christ did for us? How could He comfort us (John 14:18) through our deepest, darkest moments, if he didn’t know what it felt like?

I can’t say I’m completely comforted, yet, with this new insight. And even though I have this knowledge, which I am still wrapping me head around, it’s not any easier to feel unloved. And I’m actually a little saddened that it’s taking me such a long time to learn this lesson. But I really do hope, that someday, this will make sense. That all of the pain, tears, feelings of hopelessness, and utter abandonment, will someday help someone else. I say I hope because so far no one has gotten through to me, to make all the darkness flee away. Well, except for whoever was involved in producing that short video I watched today. If I only had the power to take away this pain from others, I would. When I do die, there’s no need to send me to hell, because I’ve been living it in my head for the past year. If I can somehow ease that burden from someone else, well, it would mean a lot to me.

Here’s to hoping I can make it through this, and help others by loving them with a complete understanding of what they’re going through. Because I know.

Gum Brain

Gum Brain

Inside my head

Is a wad of chewed-up bubble gum.

It’s been chewed over and over

Until no sweet flavor remains.

But it’s still sticky.

Negative, hurtful thoughts about myself

Are captured in the web of goo,

Dangling,

Hanging around inside my head.

My brain chokes on the stale strands,

Unable to break free,

twisting and winding

until all there is

in my head

is a lattice-work

of negativity.

The real me is lost,

Hidden by the maze of pink sticky sludge.

Good thoughts

Sometimes ride in,

But slide through, as if on a piece of ice,

Temporarily freezing the gum web

Until the good thoughts

Pass right through.

I am unable to grasp them,

And hold on.

I can no longer see clearly.

I no longer can tell

What is right or wrong,

Good or bad.

I feel trapped,

Alone,

Panicking for air

In my own mind. 

My letter to depression

9/3/2014

Dear Depression,

I really try hard to not hate anyone, but I have to be honest when I say, I hate you. I hate what you do to me. I hate that I feel out of control of my feelings, actions, and the negative thoughts that circle through my head. I hate feeling powerless to stop them. I hate feeling sad, or numb when good things happen to me. Life is really short and I don’t want to look back on my life and realize I missed enjoying some of the best experiences of my life because I wasn’t in control – you were.

I don’t like to complain. I don’t like to be a burden on others. I hate feeling overwhelmed, or feeling like I just can’t do anything. I used to be able to gather my courage and strength and just go out there and try hard things, but that has been nearly impossible the past year. It’s hard to explain exactly what you do to me, but it’s as though a gray fog is in my mind, clouding my emotional vision, making it difficult to decide what is true and what are lies you make up.

I believe you must be working with Satan. Because God would never purposely make me feel this way. Yes, when I make bad choices, it may be harder to feel His love, but I’m not a horrible person, and you make me feel that way. I don’t want you to have that power over me anymore. I’m sick of it. In order to get through the challenging things in life, I need Heavenly Father’s help. I can’t do it without Him. Nor can I do it without my husband, kids, and other family members and friends. But you try to convince me that nobody wants to help me, that I’m not worth it, that because of mistakes I’ve made, I’m just not worthy to be loved. So I push them all away – the very people who can help me. You make me so sad that no one wants to be around me, or at least that’s what you tell me is true.

You make it impossible to believe anything good about myself. When people give me compliments, you whisper to me, “if they only knew what goes on inside your head, they wouldn’t praise you like that”. When I accomplish something I’ve worked really hard for, you remind me how I still could have done better, leaving me feeling like a failure every time. You convince me to have such high expectations for myself, that I’m never good enough – because of your standards, not God’s.

It really makes me angry that you refute everything good in my head. If I think I look good with all the training I do, you tell me my tummy still pokes out, or that my breasts aren’t what they used to be. When I try to counter that I had two kids, which is more important than having perfectly perky boobs, you snicker and say, yeah, but bigger is better and more attractive. Think how much more your husband would like it if they were bigger. Then I think about how I don’t even have the money for any surgery so I could be prettier. And you remind me of the pay cut I took with my new job. I remind you that I have really good benefits, but you remind me that I’m not doing what I went to school for, that I’m not being challenged, that I’m not doing what I love. And then I feel worthless.

You scare me. I’m scared one day you’ll be so powerful, I won’t be able to resist and I’ll do something to really harm myself or someone I love. I don’t want it to ever get to that point. I’m afraid you’ll never leave me alone. That I won’t be able to push all of the negative junk out of my head once and for all. And I’m afraid that if I do, next time you try, I won’t be able to recover. Because right now, you just keep wearing me down until I’ll eventually get to the point where I just don’t believe it’s possible to feel anything but sad and bad about myself. When you are in control, I’m not. What will happen if I can’t get you under control? What will happen if something tragic happens in my life and I completely lose it and can no longer function? All that schooling, hard work to take care of my kids, set a good example and help support my family will be for nothing.

I feel so hopeless and helpless when you are around. I want to be a good mom and wife, but I feel like that’s impossible. Will my kids grow up resenting me? Will my husband get so sick of me that he kicks me out on the street because he doesn’t understand what it’s like, that it’s so hard to push you away, and that it’s you that makes me act the way I do, not him? I want him to know how much I love him, but I can’t seem to speak his love language, no matter how hard I try. And I’ve missed so much time with my kids already because I had to work, go to school, and just check out when I was consumed with sadness and hopelessness.

It’s for these reasons that I often think I don’t want to be alive. Yet you try to persuade me that Heavenly Father wouldn’t want me, that he’ll just be disappointed with me and my inability to change my thoughts to happy ones, and to fight you off. He’ll be disappointed with my complaining, with my difficulty in bearing my burdens with joy, with my lack of patience and faith. So I continue in a never-ending round of not wanting to be alive – to spare my family any more worrying and stress and putting up with me and my down moods – to not wanting to be dead either. Honestly, I don’t need to go to hell for a visit because I feel like I’m already living there, inside my own head. And I hate it. I hate living with myself. I hate what I become when you are there. I hate not being able to feel happy, of not being able to overcome things, to refute bad things, to plunge into the unknown. I feel like a scared, tired, sickly dirty orphan, roaming the streets looking for something I’ll never find – feeling loved and accepted. You make me angry because it is so all-consuming and I don’t understand why I can’t just break out of it. You make me feel ashamed, embarrassed. I rarely ask for help, even though I need it, because I’m so ashamed. And I feel like a loser when I can’t fulfill responsibilities. I feel guilty that someone else has to pick up my slack. When you take over, I feel powerless to break free, to choose to live and be happy. I’m just not me anymore.

It just hurts. It hurts to feel unlovable all the time – something I’ve struggled with since I was a little girl, and you just make it worse. I have good moments, and then you whisk them away from my memory so I can only dwell on the bad things. I wish you would just leave me alone and pick on someone else. No, I don’t wish that. I don’t wish this on anyone. It is such an awful feeling to feel like there is no hope, no end to the negativity, and to believe that no one loves you, no one can help you, and you can’t even help yourself. I’ve never felt so alone. I’d love to purge myself of all of this and pretend that you never existed. And although I’ve been feeling better the past few days, I am always wondering when you’ll strike again. I’m still scared of you. You’re like a playground bully, but one I can’t fight, at least not in the usual way. I can’t punch your lights out.

Just go away. I never want to feel/hear you in my head again.

What Depression Feels Like

It's difficult to truly capture what it's like to live with depression. I sometimes wonder if I'm losing my mind to some kind of demon. For every good hour or two I have, there are 40 bad hours. Although I feel like I'm giving it my best, fighting to stay alive, I'm falling incredibly short in nearly every aspect of my life. On the one hand, I know I am coming across as selfish, self-centered, sometimes irrational. But on the inside, I'm screaming for someone to let me out of the dark box I'm caged in. I feel powerless, absolutely hopeless, of being free, of having the strength to keep fighting. I am disgusted with myself for letting people down, for not being able to suck it up.

As part of my assignment from my therapist last week, I had to write a letter to God. Along with that, for the first time in a couple years, I was inspired to write a poem. I'll share both below. I think they paint a fairly decent picture of the hell I'm living in - completely in my own head. It's a nightmare. I hate living with myself. I hate being inside my head. I wish I could step out of it.

For next week, I'm supposed to write a letter to depression. I'll share that later.

Dear Heavenly Father,

The past year or so has been pretty hard. Actually, the past 15 years has been pretty hard. I suppose it’s true that hard things make you stronger, but I’ve felt like with each hard thing, it’s been harder to recover. It’s been harder to catch my breath after each wave.

I know I have a lot to be grateful for. I know thou hast blessed my life immensely over the years, many blessings of which I have no knowledge of. I am disappointed in myself often though because I worry I don’t say thank you enough. And I worry that the mistakes outweigh the good things I’ve done. I worry that my murmuring annoys you, and makes you disappointed in me. For where much is given, much is expected, and I just don’t know that I’ve lived up to your expectations.

Which is a big part of my problem I think. I have such a hard time hearing you, and knowing what comes from you and what is me just hoping that you would say kind, encouraging things to me, even when I don’t deserve them. It’s been so hard, all my life, to really feel that you love me. Just like I had trouble feeling love from others, because I don’t think of myself as a good person, a good wife, or a good mother.

I’ve prayed so many times for help with this. I’ve asked for your help to overcome these challenges so I can feel strengthened from thee. Maybe since I live with myself every minute of every day, I haven’t been able to recognize times when you’ve strengthened me. Or maybe the fallen man in me always focuses just on the bad things, so they seem overwhelming, and they seem to outweigh the good things. Maybe my pride keeps me from feeling you. Or maybe it’s the depression. I’m sure it’s me and not you. I’m sure you’ve tried. I’m sure you’ve cried and ached over me, some of the decisions I’ve made throughout my life, and the things I experience. I’m sure you’ve wanted to protect me, to heal me. I just don’t understand why I’ve felt so alone the past year.

There seem to be plenty of people to do bad things, really bad things, who can feel thy love and inspiration. So what’s wrong with me? Why can’t I get past this? I want to feel thy love for me. I want to be self-confident. I’ve worked hard to do good things, to make something of myself, but peace, comfort, and self-love still alludes me. I feel alienated, but of my own doing, because I know thou lovest me and wants to help me, so there must be something very wrong with me. Or that I really am an awful person, and I’m just kidding myself to think that I’m not that bad, at least not bad enough to feel totally cut off.

Maybe I could try harder. But I feel so overwhelmed right now, that even little things make me feel like I’m going to completely fall apart. And when bigger things hit, like yesterday, I almost lose it. I’ve been living in survival mode for so long now. And it seems like there is no way out. I can’t see the end. I can’t see anything better. I’ve been living like this for so long. And I’m so exhausted, I don’t see how I could work hard enough to break free from all of this. I feel hopeless most of the time. Training for triathlon seems to be the only thing right now where I can see improvement and I can get at least a small taste of feeling good about something.

For a very long time, I’ve felt like all my work at trying to strengthen myself spiritually didn’t get me anywhere. I still felt so weak, like the slightest breeze from Satan would knock me off my feet. So for a while I just gave up. I questioned whether reading scriptures every day, praying a lot, attending the temple a lot, was really helping me overcome my emotional and mental difficulties. I can honestly say that I don’t think I feel any worse or better either way.

I don’t know what else to say except I feel so abandoned, and I know it’s because of my own actions. But I don’t have any hope anymore for help from thee to break free from the darkness that just won’t leave me. I don’t really have the energy to keep fighting anymore, but I also don’t want to die and have to face thee and your disappointments. I figure I’ll feel 10 times worse reviewing all the bad things with thee. But I’m scared I’ll be outcast to some awful, dark place where I’ll feel lost and dark and sad for eternity, and I can’t bear that thought either. At least while I’m alive I have brief flickers of good days, even if they don’t last long.

Please help me to break free from all of this. Please help me to feel loved. Please help me to feel love from others. I feel love towards others, but not from others. Please help me to overcome the darkness.

Mandy

Where are you?

I am lost.

In a beautiful world.

Surrounded by family, friends, love

But feeling nothing.

There are stunning mountains

Reaching for the sun.

Gentle waves tickling the river bank and shore.

Birds singing their happy songs,

And crickets holding long conversations at night.

My bare skin drinks in the sun

Thirsting for warmth, peace, and hope.

But the light slams into dark, foreboding walls in my innermost places,

Unable to enliven my dying soul.

Occasionally, I feel pinpricks of light

But they are quickly snuffed out

Lost in shame, guilt.

With each failure

Of keeping and growing the light

My shoulders droop,

Breath stutters,

My entire being giving way

To the oppressive blackness

Pushing me down.

No amount of squats, thrusters,

Or kettle bell swings

Can strengthen me to carry the weight.

I feel powerless to fight,

Like the blackness has a life of its own –

Its strong hands and arms holding me captive.

Its broad chest shielding me from love.

Its twisted mind convincing me

I am a horrible person,

Am not worthy of forgiveness, love.

What is wrong with me?!

I shout into the nothing.

Is anyone out there?

Is anyone listening?

I can’t hear you,

Feel you.

All I feel is emptiness, hopelessness, disgust at myself.

Oh God, where are you?

Shhhh... it's a secret!!!

I have a secret. But I’m simply bursting at the seams to share it. I’ve learned the secret to being successful in triathlon. I’m pretty sure this could also apply to a career, school, having a family, or even underwater basket weaving. Although I haven’t scientifically proven it yet. But you don’t have to take my word for it (Oh how I miss Reading Rainbow).

I’ve been vacillating between being happy with my race performance at this past Saturday’s Rock Cliff triathlon, and being disappointed in myself. Yesterday, I was in that awful dark place again. The one where I’d rather be in oblivion than alive. I tried my best to not succumb, but didn’t feel successful at all.

The swim was cold enough to form ice cubes on your nose hairs (not really, but my face felt frozen until I got past the first buoy). The way back on the bike was a white-knuckle sandwich. I kept praying the gusts of cross winds and head winds, sometimes at the same time, wouldn’t knock me off my bike and into the next town.

Leaving T2, most of my toes and my quads were totally numb. I mumbled, please don’t fall flat on your face in front of all these people. It took a good mile and a half for all my toes to regain feeling. The good news was, I ran all the way up a good sized hill, and my time was more than two minutes faster than Salem Spring two weeks ago.

I was primed and ready to get a PR at this race. I’d had a good solid few weeks of training, and I felt stronger. No one knows when Mother Nature will throw a curve ball though. As it turns out, in the USAT standard age group Female 35-39 (the age groups were condensed at the race to 34 and under and 35 and over), I placed 3^rd out of 9. 3^rd out of 9!!! Even though I had my slowest bike ever, and was slightly slower in the swim, I started thinking about what would have happened last year if conditions had been similar. I most likely wouldn’t have finished the swim, just coming off the Boise 70.3 where I didn’t finish the swim. Or, I wouldn’t have gone nearly as fast on the bike with all that wind. And this time around, I kept a positive attitude throughout the entire race. That almost never happens to me.

As I looked at my training schedule for this week, now prepping for a tough first leg at Ragnar Wasatch Back in two weeks (a 7.4 mile 1,161 ft. elevation gain), I started wondering if my coach got my week mixed up with one of my old Ironman training weeks. I am almost positive he and my swim coach got together and planned two of the hardest workouts I’ve ever done – on the same day – on purpose. Not really, but after a boot camp session that included about 700 reps – most of which were push-ups (dang those spider man push-ups. I needed webbing to attach to the ceiling to pull me up off the ground by the fourth set), a 45 min easy spin, and a crazy 3000 swim, I was beat.

But on my way home, a strange thing happened. It really hit me just how far I’ve come. I’m still not the fastest swimmer, but there are now quite a few people in swim class who are slower than me. I may not be the strongest triathlete compared to my boot camp buddies, but I never would have been able to complete this morning’s workout a year ago. I may not be at the top of the podium in each race, but I am climbing and getting faster.

And that’s when I figured out the secret to success at triathlon, or presumably anything else challenging in life. Really, two keys. The first is experience. During Saturday’s race, when things got hard, I could tell myself, it’s okay, the Provo Rec Center pool is uber cold, and I don’t have a wetsuit on for those swims. When the water started getting choppy on the third leg, I told myself, it’s okay, the waves were much worse in Cozumel. On the bike, with the winds whipping around me like I was nothing more than a leaf, I told myself, hey, at least you aren’t riding uphill into these winds like in Cozumel – and it’s only a sprint distance! Finally, when I didn’t think I could keep running up that hill, I reminded myself that I’d just done 1 min hill sprints at a 9 min pace – 10 times – a week before. I could totally do this hill at a 10:40 pace.

In hindsight, I had no way of knowing I’d get to this point when I first started out. I always felt so frustrated with my slow progress and seeming utter wimpiness. I mean, I have about the same amount of muscle mass now as I did a year ago, but am 5 lbs heavier. So why am I doing better? Experience.

Experience wouldn’t be possible without the second key. Since I had no way of knowing how I would progress, or what the future held, I could have quit and given up for good. There were so many times I wanted to write off triathlon for good because I just didn’t feel like I had what it took to be any good. And I’m sure I’ll have many more challenging moments as I work my way back up to doing a full Ironman again in a couple years or so. The second key is not giving up, and just trying. It really is. Consistent, persistent trying. I can’t count the number of mornings I wanted to stay cuddled up in bed with my hubby over the past few months. But I got myself out of bed at 4:30am to do my workouts. And now,  not only am I slowly but surely gaining fitness and speed, I’m also gaining experience from those tough races, especially the failures, so that when I’m faced with something hard in the future, I know I can do it. But the only way to gain experience is to just plunge into the water!

Now, please somebody remind me of this post when I’m facing the next big challenge in my life, okay? J

So, the lesson from today’s post is: don’t stop trying, just do it, and know that experience will give you what you need to succeed. Now get out there and swim, bike, run (or whatever cool thing you want to accomplish)!

To write or not to write? That is my question.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved to write. I learned to read before I started Kindergarten. I started writing stories as soon as I could write. I started writing in a journal when I was 7 or 8. I started writing poems when my first boyfriend introduced me to it when I was 13. And now I write professionally. Or at least I used to do all of these things.

Writing was my venting mechanism. When I felt like no one understood me, or when I felt like I’d burst wide open if I didn’t let all of the things rumbling around in my head out, I’d grab a pen and paper and get it all out. Kind of like when you’ve been holding your pee for so long that when you finally make it to a bathroom, it hurts at first and you have to push it out to begin the process, and then there’s this huge relief as you let it all go. The emptiness when you were done felt good, just as my head would when I’d get it all out on paper. I could make better sense of things, decide which direction to take, if I got things all out on paper.

When I started this blog, my biggest goal was to not only have a new place to share my thoughts and feelings, but to also share my story in the hopes that I’d inspire someone to keep fighting each day. And I was hoping to let my future spouse know exactly who I was so there would be no surprises, and so he would love me, the real me, faults and all.

The past few months, since my blog admitting I have been going through depression, I have pretty much shut down all my writing. I’ve battled in my head over what to even say. Everything in my mind has been so negative lately that I knew it would be incredibly difficult to write something inspiring when I wasn’t inspired myself. I’ve thought about writing a blog dozens of times, but each time stopped myself, worried I’d say something too dark, too personal, or inspire someone to do something bad rather than good. I have others to consider now – a husband, step kids, and new in-laws. I can’t just say anything I want anymore.

So I haven’t been writing in my journal, or on my blog, or on Facebook as much. My new job doesn’t provide as many opportunities for writing, especially for telling people’s inspiring stories, which is what truly makes me feel like I have a purpose in this world. This all makes me feel like I am slowly shriveling up inside. Yes, there is something to be said for not baring all, especially when one is going through a very dark period in their life. Unfortunately, depression has also made me question my ability to write anything of value at all. My lack of fulfillment at work also makes me wonder if I have any marketable skills that any employers need or want, since I applied for countless jobs but nobody is interested. Contrary to how I used to feel, I don’t want to write things out because I feel like I can’t make any good decisions anymore. So why bother writing it out if it won’t make any difference?

But, I know there are others out there who feel the same as I do right now. I have a friend who has been looking for work for months. She has the education, the experience, and is a wonderful person, yet finding a job since she got laid off has been impossible.

Since my blog about being depressed, a couple of friends contacted me and told me they know how I feel because they suffer from depression as well. They offered help and support, although I haven’t taken them up on it because I’ve been trying to deal with it on my own.

I’ve started seeing a therapist, but I am very skeptical about it working. I have a few core beliefs about myself that I’ve held since I was a child. How do you change those? How do you convince yourself you have worth, you’re loveable, and you don’t have to constantly be achieving great and amazing things so people will love and accept you? How do you change your core belief that no matter how hard you try, it’s never good enough? And how do you learn to let go, and learn to relax, and not stress about dishes, laundry and keeping the house clean – for fear you’ll get kicked out if you don’t keep a perfect house? These beliefs about myself started in childhood, and have nothing to do with who I have been married to or who I am currently married to. It is up to me to change – not anyone else. I just don’t know how. I don’t know how to love myself.

My hope is that this therapy will help. Because I’m tired of being sad. Tired of thinking everything in my life is wrong and mixed up. Tired of feeling worthless. So tired of feeling like everything I do is wrong. Tired of believing that bad things happen to me not because that’s just life – but because I deserve it because of the wrong choices I’ve made along the way, and because I’m not worthy of love and strength through bad times.

I do know that I need to write. It is a core part of who I am. I need interaction with people. If I keep pushing people away and recessing, I’ll only get worse. I am trying. And not just for my kids, or my spouse, or my parents, or coworkers, but for me. I want to be happy.

Fear, Depression, and Behavior

I began writing a post a few days ago, but think I’ll scrap it. I really don’t want every post I write while I’m going through this to be heavy, miserable, and sad. Even though that seems to be about the only thing I can feel most days. I want to get better. And despite a difficult, roller coaster past week, I’m feeling better today than I have in a while. So keep reading - this post gets happier at the end.

I’m learning a lot from a workshop I’m taking. There are many parts to enacting positive change in ourselves and others. Think about a poor behavior you know you need to change, know how to change, and know why you should change it, but you just can’t do it for some reason. 

We often believe there is one reason behind someone’s choice to avoid making positive changes. For example, if someone wants to lose weight, some may assume they either just don’t want to, or they’re lazy. If someone is in an abusive relationship, others may think, why don’t they just leave the abuser? They must not be strong enough/smart enough, etc.

The reality is that there are many factors influencing a person’s ability to change. There are six different categories. As I’ve been digging in to try and understand my illness, I’ve been thinking a lot about these factors and what behaviors I’ve had all wrong. 

I think I’ve blogged about fear before. But fear has been a motivating factor in many of my behavioral decisions. And this hasn’t been just the past few months, but goes back years. It has also tinged all six sources of influence in my life: personal motivation and ability, social motivation and ability, and structural motivation and ability. 

I think my biggest decision making influencer fear. More specifically, it is the fear that I am not worthy of being loved. Most often I feel no self-worth, or like I’m not good enough to be loved. This caused me to withdraw from people, and thus began one of many negative cycles throughout my life. It has certainly contributed greatly to my depression. This fear is causing me to behave uncharacteristically. In reference to the six sources of influence, they have been affected in the following ways:

• Personal Motivation – Because I’ve been afraid to try to break free from the depression because I’m worried I’d fail and fall back down – and not be able to get back up, - it’s held me back from even trying. I’ve often thought that I just wanted to quit instead so I wouldn’t have to go through all of that. The idea was so overwhelming, I had no motivation to keep going.

• Personal Ability – I’ve felt uneducated on exactly how to overcome the depression, and I’ve been afraid that I just wasn’t capable of actually doing it.

• Social motivation – I’ve acted very out-of-character in social situations. Because of the fear of not fitting in, being treated differently, or not being accepted and loved by others, I’ve made hurtful comments to others, or withdrawn and not said much at all.

• Social Ability – Although I’ve had plenty of people around me who love me and have wanted to help me, out of fear that they’d get sick of me, sick of hearing about my depressed thoughts, I pushed many people away.

• Structural Motivation – This one has to do with rewards. Because I’ve been afraid that in the end, I couldn’t beat this, the only reward I could think of was ending my life and not having to deal with any of it anymore. I also concluded I’d be miserable like this for eternity, but at least then I’d know what my puny existence would amount to.

• Structural Ability – This usually refers to tool problems. My tool in this instance is my brain. I can’t tell you how many times over the past few years I’ve thought, “I’m broken”, “What is wrong with me?” “Why can’t I fix myself?” “Something must be really wrong in my head.” Fear that I’m just not “fixable” has kept me from seeking professional help.

With all of these negative thoughts and fears weighing on me, it’s no wonder I can’t just tell myself, “Be cured!” and I’d magically be happy

again. If there is one thing I’m learning from this experience, it’s to embrace those who are struggling – whether it’s an addiction, illness, a crazy amount of stress that is making them act different (angry, sad, etc.) or whatever. No matter what poor or even destructive behaviors they have gotten into the habit of exhibiting, everyone is a child of God and worthy of love. We have no idea what it’s like to live inside their head. We have no idea if there are chemical imbalances, functional issues, or how many things are weighing them down. The bottom line is, each of us hurts sometimes. And as a friend reminded me last night, at the end of the day, all anyone who is hurting wants is a hug and to know they are loved.

So please, reach out to someone you know who is hurting (I’m not implying that should be me – like I said, I’m finally feeling better today), give them a hug, and tell them you love them. And don’t give up on them! As Kermit kept reminding me, things will get better!

My name is Mandy… and I am suffering from depression

I warn you this is very raw – it’s a wide open sore right now that has been festering for years, and this is one of my first steps to try and clean it out. It’s also kinda long (sorry, I had a lot to get off my chest). So your encouragement and kind words are welcome. But please don’t tell me what I should’ve done, or what I should do, or what I should try. I know you’d mean well, but right now, it would just make me feel worse – more incompetent, more embarrassed, more ashamed, and more angry at myself for not being able to kick the demons out of my head long before now.

I think it all started when I was a teenager – probably around 13 or 14. As I got older, on the rare nights I was home, I’d shut myself in my room, playing music that added to my sadness as loud as I could, candles lit all over my room, writing poems. And for a little while, I would cut my arms. Not very badly – I’m really sensitive to touch and couldn’t tolerate that much. But just enough so I could only feel that physical pain – not the pain in my heart and head. My low swings usually revolved around hormones and break-ups but never lasted super long. The over-achiever perfectionist in me always won out, and I went to school, work, band, clubs, hung out with friends, and maintained excellent grades.

This pattern has continued through my adult life. But I’ve noticed when it comes to relationships, I tend to always be on an emotional roller coaster. Perhaps because that is when I feel most vulnerable. That is when I feel most inadequate. While these demons in my head have existed for a long time, I’ve done okay at keeping them from getting out of control. There is usually something that has kept be grounded. Outside influences of course affects my ability to overcome it, and I still never stayed down long enough to really admit to having… the “d” word. To me, admitting that I have depression, and admitting I can’t beat it this time on my own, is like one more failure I add to my list. I’ve been able to keep it under control this long, why can’t I now?

True, after Don Queco passed away, I started going to counseling. Things that used to help me break free of the gloom and doom weren’t helping anymore. Like prayer. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t feel comfort from the spirit anymore. I figured Heavenly Father just got so tired of my whining or poor choices, that he would just as soon wash his hands of me. I figured I had disappointed Him so much, I was now totally alone.

But then that summer I met Edward. He was kind and compassionate and knew what I was going through. So I didn’t feel so alone. I duct taped myself together and kept going.

I still had a very rocky next year. I lost Don Queco, lost Edward, was trying to finish school, but still felt very much alone and abandoned. Logically, I knew I had plenty of friends and family who loved and cared about me. But when I was in that dark place, nothing broke through. Nothing made a difference.

But then I met Kermit and things got better for a while. I still had ups and downs, but I dealt with them as much as I could. Running seemed to help a lot and I still felt Don Queco watching over me. Now Kermit and I have been together almost two years. And he didn’t run for the hills. Last August when I found out I was being let go from my job, my life turned upside down. Within 9 months, I lost my job, didn’t finish an Ironman, got engaged, got married, blended families, remodeled a house in one month, started a new job that has challenged me in unexpected ways, watched as my husband started a very demanding and challenging new career, got braces, and 12 days ago I sliced my hand while trying to separate some frozen turkey burgers. It may not seem like a big deal, but I haven’t been able to swim or do a lot of the things I’m used to and been in a lot of pain. Starting to feel desperate, I wrote the following poem last week:

Numb

I want to run away.

Leave everything behind.

But how do you escape

your own mind?

I’ve tried everything:

prayer

exercise

pretending

eating healthy

being around people

listening to uplifting music

fake it till you make it.

But the war inside my head

just won’t stop.

The voice taunts me –

“If you don’t stop this,

your husband will leave,

just like the last one.”

“If you were stronger, better,

you would be able to break free.”

“You’ll never be good enough.”

“You’re not worth anyone’s time or help.”

I feel ashamed

of who I am.

I’m afraid

of the consequences

if I can’t overcome.

I’m not afraid of dying,

but of this loneliness lasting

for eternity.

I worry everyone,

especially my husband,

will just think

I’m making it up

for attention.

or think I’m beyond repair

with no ROI.

Everyone around me

is so stressed

with other things –

work, kids, poor health –

I don’t want to add

one more thing to their plate.

So I try to hide.

Try to stay in the background.

I go to work

work out

take care of my kids,

the house.

But I’m tired.

Tired of pretending

and fighting to hang on,

hoping it will all

just go away.

And leave me ALONE!

I have no desire

to try anymore.

Because deep down,

I know I’ll never

succeed – at least not in this life.

20 years of failure, loss, and disappointment

weighs heavily on my weak shoulders.

But even if I died,

Heavenly Father

wouldn’t welcome me

in His kingdom.

I’d just bring everyone down

like here in this world.

I no longer

feel the spirit.

I’m not worthy.

But I know

if I could just feel my Savior’s love,

I could kick

the demons

out of my head.

I’m not worthy of love.

Too broken

to be fixed.

And because I think these thoughts,

I feel even worse.

More hopeless.

It never ends.

I have much to be grateful for

but still feel

worthless.

I don’t want to feel

sad all the time.

I don’t like

hating myself.

What’s wrong with me?!

Why can’t I stop this?!

I can’t sleep without pills.

I can’t get help.

I’m on the clock at work

and can’t make up time

for leaving early.

I can’t quit –

people are depending on me

for insurance

and to pay off debt.

The only thing

I can do

is be numb.

 

That pretty much sums up the dark abyss I’ve been floating around in the past few months. But it keeps getting worse. And unlike times before, I just can’t seem to break through the fog. The stupidest things bring me to tears. Last week I basically worked, ate, trained, and slept. I had no desire to do anything. I didn’t care if my husband left, or if I left, or if I got hit by a car, and I just didn’t want to wake up in the morning. Every night I prayed the two sleeping pills would be enough to keep me asleep forever.

I am fully aware that it is up to me to choose to be happy. It is up to me to act or react in a positive way to whatever is going on in my life. It is nobody else’s responsibility but mine to choose to be happy. I also understand I have irrational thoughts that are lies, like worrying my husband will leave or just be mad at me or think I’m lying. I know he wouldn’t do that. But that’s the depression talking. Like I said in my poem, I have a good husband, good kids, we have good jobs, food to eat, bills paid, a home and family and friends who love us. But for the past couple of weeks, I’ve been so apathetic that not only could I not break free of the negative crap in my head, I had no desire to.

Then early yesterday morning I decided not to work out and get a little more sleep instead. And I had the worst dream. In it, Kermit and I were in school, in my old high school building. We got into a fight about something, and he said, you know what Mandy, this just… I stopped him and said, no, don’t. Don’t say it. Don’t say this isn’t going to work. Don’t say you’re leaving me. I woke up soon after that feeling this awful sense of sadness, anxiety and raw fear. So much so that I felt weak, sick to my stomach. My first thought was, well, this feeling sucks, but at least it’s better than the complete apathy you’ve been feeling. It was like a wake-up call. For the first time in a long time I felt gratitude. I knew I had much to be grateful for, but all I’d felt was sadness for so long. I finally felt something other than the nothing (Never Ending Story…). I told my husband before I left for work how truly grateful I was for him, that I really loved him and believed in him and knew he could do a good job at work. That was the most genuine, heart-felt thing I’ve been able to say for a while. I’ve mostly just been pretending, and feeling horrible about it. I knew I loved people, knew I had a lot to be grateful for, have tried to be encouraging to people, but really felt nothing. Even on my wedding day, I felt nothing but emptiness. And it has nothing to do with my awesome husband. It is the big d word. Depression seems to have a life of its own. A power I don’t understand. I’ve known other people who have had it, but I just didn’t get it. Until now. And let me tell you, it sucks.

It sucks trying to go through the motions day in and day out when all you want to do is stop living and stop trying. It sucks feeling like you’ve let everyone down, most especially yourself, your kids, and your husband because you just can’t fight off the opaqueness. It sucks to have to lie to everyone and tell them you’re okay when really you want to scream, no, I’m not okay, I’m a prisoner in my own head and I hate myself right now! It sucks thinking that even if you did die, no one on the other side would welcome you because you gave up, quit. And thinking my kids would be scared for life. But at the same time thinking they’d all be better off without me because they wouldn’t have to worry about why mom is crying… again. I’m an extrovert. I’m energized when I’m around people, and have good conversations with people. But lately, I’ve started avoiding people. Working out hasn’t been that stress reliever it once was. All I worry about is how much weight I’ve gained for no particular reason, and fretting over trying to eat healthy when I have no desire to cook or prepare meals, go shopping, or clean up after a meal. It’s just too overwhelming. But then I stress that I’m not doing all I can to have a healthy body and mind.

And the maddening cycle continues. With the string of “you’re worthless”, “you can’t do anything right” and “what is wrong with me?!” over and over and over and over. All day. Every day. It’s worse than the scariest movie you ever saw.

Yesterday afternoon, I watched a video that also brought tears to my eyes. And for the first time in a long time, I started feeling something I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like: hope. I have said some of the same things he did – God, why would you want to help me? I feel so worthless, I’ve made so many mistakes. I can’t feel you anymore. My prayers have been filled with those teary pleas lately. When he mentions that Heavenly Father was with him every step of the way, I started crying. And the words of a song primary aged children in our church often sing came to my mind:

1. Heavenly Father, are you really there?

And do you hear and answer ev'ry child's prayer?

Some say that heaven is far away,

But I feel it close around me as I pray.

Heavenly Father, I remember now

Something that Jesus told disciples long ago:

"Suffer the children to come to me."

Father, in prayer I'm coming now to thee.

2. Pray, he is there;

Speak, he is list'ning.

You are his child;

His love now surrounds you.

He hears your prayer;

He loves the children.

Of such is the kingdom, the kingdom of heav'n.

Then a friend of mine posted a blog that really got to me also. And now, I feel like I’m getting closer to having the strength and desire to climb out. But I know it’s going to be hard. I’m scared. Scared if I start trying, I’ll fall back in and won’t be able to climb out next time. I know all anybody has is hope and faith, which are two things that are extremely difficult for anyone with depression to feel. At this point, I figure all I can do is hope I’m one of the lucky ones – one of those who for some unknown reason, has the strength to get out of the darkness, rather than succumbing.