Alcoholism

Depression, obsession and rumination

I once heard a guy say that he tries to wear his life like a comfortable old t-shirt. I like that and I've been trying to do it lately but I think I must have shrunk that t-shirt in the dryer because it's tight as hell right now.

From the outside you might not notice that my comfy t-shirt has morphed into a corset. But from the inside, it feels like it has. I'm carrying around this intensity right now - for work, for working-out and even for finishing the entire seven-season series Sons of Anarchy.

I am driven. I can't seem to slow down my thoughts. One thought leads to another and another and another. It makes me good at what I do - newspaper reporting - but it's not good for my mental health. It's a constant tugging - intellectually I want to slow down - instinctually I want to speed up.
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Bipolar

Pulling the plug on my mania and CrossFit

Mania is a luscious, exhilarating state of mind. All the fatigue and weariness in your bones and soul vaporizes. Your muscles feel bigger and stronger and ready to strike. Your thoughts are clear and brilliant. You are like a racehorse in the gate, wide-eyed and pawing at the ground with your hoof. There is no off-switch.

Medications give you a dimmer but you still have to have the desire and willingness to use it beyond the involuntary waning it induces.  You have to make the decision to turn the dimmer nob further to the left.

That is where I find myself today - turning the nob to the left. I am - of my own volition - taking my life down a notch. I don't want to but I need to. It's hard for me to believe I'm doing this. But years of therapy and the wisdom that comes with 56-years of f#*king up my life have taught me it's time.

I have bipolar II - called hypomania. It's bipolar lite. My ups and downs are not nearly as intense as those poor souls with bipolar I. Of course, fueling my mania with drugs and alcohol for decades enhanced those ups and downs. But I know I am blessed to have this lesser form of bipolar.
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Coping with Depression

Father forgive me for I have sinned and have depression

I am guilty. I'm not sure what I'm guilty of but I'm certain I am guilty. I was brought up Catholic and went to a Catholic elementary school.

The nuns taught us about the different kinds of sins - venial sins, a sort of lesser gateway sin that wouldn't send us directly to hell, unlike mortal sins - like killing someone - which would send us directly to hell. You would burn in hell for eternity no matter how many Hail Mary's you said. Of course, as second- and third-graders, we hadn't committed any mortal sins but they were out there.

And there were those poor little babies who died before they were baptized. They ended up in limbo - heaven's waiting room. They didn't get into heaven because there original sin hadn't been washed away by pouring some water over their little heads. So, your parents better get your little brother baptized or he could END UP IN LIMBO!!!

I got so scared of being bad and had convinced myself that I WAS bad that as soon as I was able,, I went to confession.  In fact, I went to confession so much that they told me I didn't  have to go so much - which was a huge relief because as a little kid I had better things to do than keep a running tally of my venial sins.

I haven't gone to confession in years. I like to think I dial direct. When I feel guilty, which is still a lot, I deal directly with God.
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Coping with Depression

How do doctors distinguish grief from depression?

Grief intrigues me. I've been there and despite counselling, self-help books and prayer, I don't understand it.

A few years after my divorce, my father died. Sixteen months after my father died, my mother died. Eight months later, my dog died. Several years passed and a long-term relationship ended. Then I crashed, slipped into a deep depression.

Compound grief - that's what I call it. At some point, all that grief piled up and morphed into depression. There was a tipping point. Despite the time I've spent rubbernecking my own grief, I don't know when or where I reached that tipping point but I sure as hell did.

Even with all the self-awareness and knowledge I have today, I doubt I would be able to identify that moment should I experience another loss and slide into - God forbid -  a deep depression. So, how do doctors distinguish between grief and depression?

Apparently, it's not easy. According to a study recently published in JAMA Psychiatry, there is grief, complicated grief and depression. This was the first randomized trial to explore the treatment of complicated grief in an elderly population and it emphasized the importance for doctors to distinguish the differences between grief, complicated grief and depression.

I normally don't understand articles in JAMA. The articles look and sound like English but they are beyond my comprehension. Even the headlines baffle me. But I found this article on
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Coping with Depression

Circling the drain of depression

Two down, one to go.

We made it through Thanksgiving and Christmas. There's just New Year's left. I can see the finish line but I'm close to bonking. Yes, I am taking my medications. I am exercising and getting plenty of sleep. I am eating well - except for the gluten-free Pop Tarts.

I thought I had done a pretty good job of fending off my depression this year. I didn't buy a tree or put out any decorations until about 2 hours before my daughter came home to visit. I cancelled my satellite television service and got Roku - so I wasn't bombarded by holiday commercials.

I didn't turn on the radio and made it through my first holiday season without hearing that insanely annoying Feliz Navidad song - although I did hear Paul McCartney's "Sim-ply Hav-ing a Wonderful Christmas Time," which is equally annoying.
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Coping with Depression

How much of my holiday depression is my fault?

Somewhere, probably over some freakin' rainbow, is the Christmas of my dreams. You know the one with little kids making snow angels in the front yard, a new Lexus in the driveway with a ginormous bow on it and gingerbread houses that don't collapse.

However, I live in south Florida so the snow angel thing is out. I would rather have a Prius than a Lexus and unless you make a gingerbread house with gorilla glue, it's going to collapse. Get over it.

Problem is, I can't get over it. Actually, the problem is the sentence before this one. I think "I can't get over it," when in fact, I don't allow myself to "get over it." Every year it's the same thing: I invite a mythical family, with mythical snow in the front yard and mythical gingerbread houses into my head.

I sit on my pity pot and watch them have their mythical Christmas. I get jealous, mad, jealous, sad, jealous, angry, jealous, depressed. I do this to myself. I allow this brain chemistry to happen because I allow myself to have stupid, unrealistic expectations.

And what are expectations?

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Coping with Depression

For holiday orphans, depression is real

I have made it 55 years without cooking a turkey. I used to be ashamed of that fact. How could a one-time wife and mother get this far in life without ever having made a turkey?

It's a sad story with a happy ending. I don't have much family and the family I have don't invite me to holiday dinners. They're either too far away, or they don't know me because we haven't kept in contact over the decades or they don't invite me to their dinner table. 

When I was married we managed to get invited to my in-laws for holiday meals. My ex-husband is in the restaurant business so he was usually working. When we divorced, it was just my daughter and me. A few times I made a turkey breast and we got dressed up, took out the good china and some candles and had a nice little holiday meal - just the two of us and the dog.

We are holiday orphans. No cousins, aunts, uncles, parents, grandparents, siblings. Just me, my daughter and the dog. When my daughter was much younger and still a believer (in Santa) we had fun - baking cookies, decorating the tree and building a runway in the yard with blue and red lights for Santa to land.

For a few years I had other orphans to my house on Christmas Eve. Fun, but a lot of work and money for a single mom with a full-time job. Then my daughter grew up and spent holidays with friends who have real families. Of course the two of us still eat dinner together on Christmas Eve but we no longer build the runway in the front yard or bake cookies together.
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Public Policy

Why the military can’t get suicide prevention right

Last Friday, the Inspector General of the Department of Defense released a report called the Suicide Event Report Data Quality Assessment. I had no idea what the assessment was about but I am devoted to suicide prevention and intrigued by data so I gave the 100-page report a read.

When an active service member commits suicide or attempts suicide, a Suicide Event Report is compiled. The report is an investigation of the suicide and circumstances leading up to it. It is a sort of psychological autopsy that is supposed to provide military leaders with reliable information on suicide risk factors that will assist in designing effective suicide prevention efforts.

The IG decided to investigate how Suicide Event Reports are compiled after finding a high number of  "don't know/data unavailable" responses to questions in the 2011 Annual Report - the most recent year available.  Here are the questions that received the most "don't know/data unavailable" reponses: You would think that these are among the most important questions in determining why someone committed suicide. So, why couldn't the folks assigned to complete these reports answer these questions?
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Coping with Depression

Can depression help your career?

A good headline, like a lot of good things in life, will suck you in. This one got me: "How business leaders can use fatigue and depression to their advantage."

Do tell, I thought, because I've been in the working world for more than 30 years and I've yet to meet a boss, supervisor or leader who has used fatigue and depression to their advantage. On the planet where I live, depression and fatigue are weaknesses.

Come to think of it, I have never encountered a boss supervisor or leader who ever had to take time off from work because depression or fatigue. That's only something us worker bees do. So, I had to read this article by Andrew Cave, published on the Forbes web site on Wednesday.

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