Discovering What's Missing

While lost in that darkness you lose yourself and your life, which includes everything you normally enjoy. You stop caring about those things, doing them feels empty or like it takes too much effort. Along with losing my desire to stitch I also lost my desire to read.

Now reading has been a constant companion for me, a long with writing. I read books constantly since I first learned how to read. I remember as a child sitting in the back of my closet, yes behind the clothes, with a flashlight and reading. I did this in the middle of the night and hiding in the closet (sometimes) was to keep the light from showing so I wouldn't get caught because I just *HAD* to know how the story ended. Everywhere I went, I brought a book. They were my friends for many years when I didn't have friends.

Yesterday Ron and I went out for dinner, something we haven't done in over a year. After the meal (which was great btw!) we went to the book store. The last time we went I remember just rambling around not finding anything of interest, but last night I was interested. With a bit of help from an employee I found some books I wanted. Stephen King's son (one of them) is a published author as well. He goes by the name Joe Hill and he had 2 books out that I had not seen before, so I bought them. (I already had his other 2) When we got home I peeked at them and chose one to start reading, NOS4A2. It grabbed me within the first couple of pages and I LOVE when a book does that. It grabs you and takes you someplace magical and wonderful.

Feeling that again made me realize how long it had been since I actually read a book. I re-read books and enjoy them every time. At least, I used to. I thought back and it took a while, but I think it has been well over a year since I read a whole book, either a new one or an old and much loved one. This just blew my mind.

Me? Not reading?

Reading had always been my escape, my comfort, and my savior before. Stories helped me deal with so many stressors and depressive episodes before. Why was this time so different? I don't know but it certainly was different.

I read for HOURS last night! I devoured the words as the images filled my head and just enjoyed every bit of it. I finally dozed off over the book and when I woke up after just a few minutes I did what I promised I would ad put the book aside and tried to sleep.

I wasn't kidding when I said I spent most of my time over the past couple of years doing nothing except staring at stuff on the internet (sometimes good stuff, sometimes stupid stuff).

It feels good to be doing the things I enjoy, and enjoying it, again. But I am worried. Will this period of being awake just last a couple weeks, then go away quietly like the last couple I had in the past 3 years? I hope not, I really do.

(BTW there is good news about my chronic pain. Turns out hypothyroidism can cause pain. My thyroid is better balanced thanks to medication and in doing so lots of symptoms cleared up, and the intensity of my pain had dialed down a bit. I am back to being able to stand for 10 or so minutes. Eventually better things will be written about but right now I'm writing out what my brain is focusing on and it seems to be focusing on noticing how badly this depression affected me.)

Thoughts on Depression

Past words echo in my mind..words spoken, heartfelt and believed at the time…yet uneducated, naive words. Life, as always, is a hard teacher sometimes. I remember saying “You’re either suicidal or you’re not. You either want to kill yourself, or you don’t.”…passive suicide was something I couldn't fully understand or believe in, at least not when those words were spoken.

I understood fully sayings such as “I just don’t care anymore”, “life seems empty”. Yes, these made sense because at different times in my life I felt those things.

Depression isn't new to me. I've had my down times, self destructive times, wanting to kill myself times, melancholy, sad, angry and others. I’d had periods where nothing seemed to matter much at all.

But I've learned, yes one can chose to die without actively taking too many pills, using a gun, or any other method of suicide. This manner of suicide is more insidious, sneaky and dark. It comes after “life is empty” and “I don’t care anymore”. It is the miasma that occurs when one lives beyond those stages. Not only does nothing matter anymore, but it matters so little that you can’t even be bothered to use that tiny bit of energy to say it doesn't matter anymore. It isn't worth the effort to say it or write it. After that it isn't even worth the effort to think it. 

That is where I got to spend 2 years.

Yes I had periods where my anger woke me up a bit, but it didn't last long and as time passed, those periods happened less and less often, had a lot less energy behind them, and eventually ceased at all. “It just isn't worth it”.

At this point, death is welcome, even desired. Though you can’t summon the energy to end your own life, you find yourself craving it. Just wanting it to happen, not giving a shit about when or how, just “soon”.

This is a horrible place to be. It is where I spent most of last year, empty, dark, just existing but not really there. 

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I'm working on getting back on my feet (literally and figuratively). Thanks to a major health scare in late October 2013, the severity of my depression finally became clear because for the first time in a long long time I felt something. When my heart went nuts and I thought I was going to die, my brain started screaming "I don't want to die". Since then, I'm trying to get back some life. The words above were written last night while I was thinking about how the last year truly was. 

Where am I?

This is basically a copy/paste of what I posted on my stitching blog to let stitchy friends know where I've been. However, this post is more "on topic" in this blog. I feel bad (Lazy etc) just copying it here, but I know that some of the readers of this blog do not read my stitching blog (which is perfectly fine). And since this is where I should write about pain and depression..well anywhoo..here it is. I could ramble a whole lot more, but this is long enough as it is. I will try to ramble some more tomorrow.

Well, to let everyone know, I am still alive and around. I know it's been close to (if not already past [too lazy to check right now, ok I checked it was Feb. 2013]) a year 8 months since I posted here, longer than that since I posted with any regularity. I haven't been stitching much at all. I put a few stitches (total of maybe 50 stitches all told) in a couple of my WIP's here and there, but nothing major at all. *Pictures people making a a cross with their hands and yelling at her: "No stitching?!?! Sacrilege! Back you floss deserter, back you project abuser, back I say!" [raven giggles at herself]* See? I have lost my mind I tell you!

Another odd image: 2 rather official looking ladies at my front door dressed in black suits, complete with sunglasses (think Men In Black, only women in the suits rather than men) and ID wallets. Their badges have the symbol for cross-stitch of a hoop with fabric and a needle parked in said fabric. The words surrounding them are "International Needlework Association: Cross-stitch Div.: Project Protection Agent". They hand me a court order allowing them to confiscate my stash, WIPs, UFOs, and even my Ghingers for their own protection from my abusive neglect. "Now Mrs. Shadowborne if you would please surrender your Needlework ID, Scissors License and Precious Metals Needle Approval Cards. Yes than, very well.  Thank you very much and have a lovely day!" (trust me, it seemed much funnier in my head...oh well never said I was good at comedic writing  LOL)

I signed up for an exchange (due back in February) in the hopes it would help me regain my stitching bug. I have stitched on it. It sits three-quarters completed (would still need put together etc) in my stitching bag (along with 5 other WIPs) and I just can't find the energy to finish it. It is so late and I feel so horrible about it. I have told my partner and she is being so wonderful and understanding about it. My brain however uses it to beat me up. Why does depression have to include mental self-flagellation via self-insults and loads and loads and loads of guilt? It doesn't help, just makes it worse.

What happened? Depression is what happened.

The truth is: I just haven't been able to drum up the desire to stitch, or when I had a tiny inkling of desire, I couldn't drum up the energy to actually do it. My depression finally hit the really bad stages where even the sadness and despair go away, leaving nothing behind....emptiness.

Those woods I posted about a while back, I got lost again I stayed lost and couldn't find my way out. I knew my depression was bad, but I didn't realize it could get even worse, but it did.  I'm not sure that I have found a way out yet, but I am at least forcing myself to try to resume activities I know I used to enjoy doing. But it is so hard to fight back when I can't really do anything but sit in bed all the time. The pain has been insane, and pain like that really does mess up the chemical balance of the brain and nervous system.  In some ways the depression and it's accompanying dissociation is comforting because it removes a lot of emotions, thus I don't feel guilt, emotional pain etc. Instead I just feel empty, vast sweeping blackness..nothing at all. I've had a day here and there where I did have some feelings, but not often, not for long, and not real good feelings/thoughts. Though, there is one ray of sunshine finally: those days with some emotion have been increasing in frequency so that's good. I know that in order to feel better, I have to allow myself to feel at all. Of course the first feelings will include all the guilt, anger, frustration, fear etc. that I have been hiding from and the idea of feeling those things in order to move through them is extremely daunting.

I have days where some feelings are coming back, and when they do I am struggling to let them, to not shove them back down. It is terrifying. Part of me truly wants to stay in the woods, the deepest darkest part where there were no real emotions more often than not. My last post, I tried to end on an improved note. I *did* go stitch (about 15 stitches before giving up) that day though.

Thank you to all those who left me such wonderful comments! I read them all, obsessively more than once because they give me a warm & good feeling inside which is better than the empty nothing I had 99% of the time. I fully intended to reply to each one via email and when I realized a few weeks had gone by I just didn't know what to do. Reply so late? Let it go without telling them what their words mean to you? The self talk turned into how horrible I am, useless, etc etc., and I became afraid of the response I'd get if I replied after such a long time. I felt I would deserve it whether it be an angry/upset/disappointed/whatever response to my reply or no response at all. So, as with everything else for the last few years, I did nothing and just used them as more ammunition for those times when my brain played "beat up the birdie girl!". I truly am sorry for not responding to those comments before now and I appreciate them a great deal, thank you thank you thank you!

I am not posting any of this to make people feel bad for me or anything like that. I am posting it (terrified but going to do it anyway even if it means I have to ask DH to click the publish button) for a few different reasons. One to explain where I've been. Two, to release some of my feelings in hopes my doing so may do some good for someone else. There are other reasons as well, but I think I've rambled quite too much about my depression in what is supposed to be my stitching blog. If you've read this far, Thank You and give yourself a pat on the back, Well Done! (and no I do not mean that sarcastically). I appreciate it :)

Depression (Severe) SUCKS!

Ok this is my 9th attempted post that has been sitting in the drafts folder for a while. It has taken me 2 weeks to write this one as it is. "OK .......here goes...click publish Raven! click it!"