Happy pills

I think my first encounter with depression happened when I was a junior in high school. No one called it "depression" then, but that's what it was. I don't recall all the details, but I do remember a succession of disappointments -- cut from the soccer team, not being selected for yearbook -- had something to do with the overwhelming sadness I felt. My parents sent me to the school counselor and I got through it.

I don't recall being especially depressed during college, though the self-medication I did at weekend fraternity parties during my freshman and senior years might have been an indication of something going on. Or that could have just been my own personal "girls gone not-quite-wild" endeavor.

My first major depression as an adult came in the form of post-partum depression after Charlie was born. It wasn't depression in the long crying jags, sort of way. It was post-partum OCD, which was characterized by what they call "intrusive thoughts" and is really not something I'm ready to write about in detail yet (yes, 15 years later), but suffice it to say, those 15 months were the darkest of my days, ever.

It was during that time that the most-wonderful-woman-in-the-world-who-quite-honestly-saved-my-life encouraged me to look at depression as a disease like diabetes. There is treatment available and it improves health and quality of life, so use it. And mostly I do.

Sometimes, though, I think "I've been doing so well, maybe I'm 'over' it." So I stop taking the antidpressant I've been on for years. And usually, I do ok...for a little while. And then my view of the world begins to change. Sometimes I get sad. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed that all I want to do is stay in my bed, or once out get back in it. Mostly, I get very irritable and the world is full of idiots who don't know what they are doing.

So duh, just take the meds, right? Well, it's not actually that easy.

When I don't take the antidepressant for several weeks, or a month or longer, I feel things I don't usually feel when the drugs are managing the chemicals in my brain. I cry at situations where normal human beings would cry, when, medicated, I find tears hard to come by. I'm a little more spontaneous and free to be silly with my kids. I actually have a sex drive. (TMI?) Is it any wonder that many of the most famous artists and thinkers in history have also been classified as a little crazy?

That's where I am right now. I didn't make a conscious decision to stop taking my antidepressant. I thought it was on auto-fill at the pharmacy and I just didn't pay attention to the fact that I'd run out and hadn't gotten a call that a new prescription was ready. A week or two went by and I thought, "Hey, I'm doing pretty well. Maybe I can handle this." Then another week or two went by and people around me kept getting more and more irritating. I could hear myself being unnecessarily snappy. Mike commented that I seemed to be on edge. I do find myself tearing up with greater ease. But I am kind of enjoying the thought of being "free." I'm not paralyzed by sadness. I'm not feeling a magnetic pull to my bed. I'm not having any crazy thoughts.

So I'm here, trying to decide where to move from here. Go back to the antidepressant which has served me well and which resolves the world of so much of its idiocy (as I perceive it to be) and takes the biting edge off my anger? Or stay drug-free? If I choose Plan B, I know I'll need to employ some other techniques for dealing with it -- things like exercise, meditation, etc. (For the record, Mike is all for Plan A.)

I'm not sure why I felt compelled to write about this. Maybe that's part of the unmedicated inhibition that I'm experiencing? Maybe because I suspect others know where I'm coming from. Who knows? I guess you can just call me crazy.

10 ways to defunkify your day

After some discussion on the 4th Frog Facebook page, it seems that several people had a case of the Mondays going on today, where they were just feeling in a funk.

Some days are like that, aren't they? I know I've been there. So I started thinking about what I do to defunkify my day. Here are some things that work for me:

1. Have a good cry. You know, one of those ugly cries like Meg Ryan had in "When Harry Met Sally" when Sally found out that her former boyfriend was getting married. Or an even uglier cry, like Julia Roberts had in Truvy's beauty salon in "Steel Magnolias."
   
2. Watch a favorite movie. It doesn't have to be a funny movie, necessarily. Just one that is so familiar to you, it feels like putting on a cozy sweater. For me, it's "The Holiday" or one of the two noted in #1.
   
3. Eat ice cream. Not the relatively healthy soft-serve stuff. I'm talking the Ben & Jerry's Chubby Hubby or Jerry Garcia.
   
4. Go for a walk/run/bike ride. I know, it's totally counter to #3, but the truth of the matter is, sometimes exchanging mass quantities of oxygen and carbon dioxide in my lungs makes the rest of me feel better, too.
   
5. Color. Pick up the crayons and a coloring book and color. Markers won't do it. Colored pencils, maybe. And it has to be a coloring book. Drawing my own pictures is too much pressure when I'm in a funk.
   
6. Phone a friend. It probably won't net you a million dollars, but it will likely help lift the funk.
   
7. Pump up the jams. (That's listen to music for those of you not quite as hip as me...insert totally embarrassed teenager here...) My choice to break out of a funk is either show tunes or praise & worship music. But if Florence & the Machine or Led Zeppelin work for you, go for it.
   
8. Treat yourself -- a mani/pedi, a trip to Target or the Hallmark store all by your lonesome, a new pair of shoes. Don't break the bank to do it, but if there is any way you can give yourself a little retail therapy, it can help.
   
9. Take a long hot bath or shower and wash the day away. Something about stepping out of the shower all clean and warm gives me a little lift.
   
10. Pray. I know, it should probably #1 on the list. I'm working on that. Pray. Out loud. Silently. With a friend. In a church. In your car. Memorized prayers. Whatever is on your heart. I can't promise it will work as instantly as ice cream, but it will probably stick with you longer. 

Oh, and if you've been in a funk for a while and none of the above seem to work, then please consider this last one:

11. Pop a pill. I'm not advocating illegal self-medication. Sometimes what we think might just be a funk is really true depression, which is not weakness. It's a real, medical condition that has real, medical options for treatment. After trying to white-knuckle my way through the past three months or so, I finally waved the white flag of sanity and am back to taking an antidepressant. It doesn't take away those things that were putting me in a never ending funk, but it does allow me to cope with them better. 

Is there something I missed that is a good way to break the fog of a funk? Please, share what works for you.

This one is for all the kids (Mine and yours.)

Yesterday I wrote a letter to my daughter Annie (and her friends and all other teenagers). The letter was in response to the suicide of a beautiful, talented, well-loved 16-year-old girl. The message was "Have someone." If you haven't read it yet, please do so here.

Today my mind has been filled with aching for this child who felt such deep despair that she made a tragic decision. I've prayed for her parents and siblings who must be wondering "why?" I've imagined her friends, gathered and wondering what they missed, what more they could have done.

I don't presume to have any answers. But I do have another message for you, Annie. And for Charlie and Robbie and all of us.

Be someone.

Be someone who is willing to walk across the cafeteria or the playground to talk to the person who is always standing alone, no matter what others might say.

Be someone who steps outside of your circle to partner up with someone you don't know very well for the science project or the sit-up challenge in gym class.

Be someone who smiles and holds the door open and says "I like your hair" or "You are a good artist" or "How was your weekend?"

Be someone who really listens -- puts down the cell phone, the video game remote, the laptop and listens with your ears, your eyes and your heart.

Be someone who hears what others are saying...and what they are not.

Be someone who refuses to laugh at another person's expense.

Be someone who isn't defined by a group or a label like "hipster," "jock," or "nerd." Instead be someone who has friends in all those groups and who can bring people together.

Be someone who is honest, who doesn't sugarcoat your own life. Be real so other people can see that we're all in this human-ness together, that we all struggle.

Be someone who lets others know that they matter.

Be someone who isn't afraid to break a friend's confidence and go to an adult if you think they are in danger.

I know it sounds like a tall order. But I know you can do it.

I believe in you.

Love,
Mom