The Further Tragedy of Aurora, et al.

     What is so very sad about the tragedy of what occurred in Aurora (and in Arizona and Virginia Tech) is that as a whole our society has become disassociated from what is happening to and with our fellow humans.  Obviously the young men responsible for these killings were not/are not mentally stable.  This type of mental illness does not occur suddenly.  It is insidious.  Symptoms begin to present, especially in young men, in late adolescence to early 20's.  Surely those close to these men noticed changes in their personas yet because of the collective mindset of "it's not MY problem as long as it doesn't affect ME" dismissed the increasing bizarre behavior permission to persist rather than attempting to step in and try to help.  Well, it IS our problem.  As tragically displayed this past week, one can never be sure that "crazy" will never affect us.    
     Centuries ago John Donne wrote "No man is an island." It is as true then as is is now.  What would have happened if someone, a family member, a friend, a co-worker had reached out to one of these individuals and guided them towards the psychiatric help they obviously needed/need.  Of course, this in no way absolves the shooters of their responsibly in these tragedies...but I wonder if someone, ANYONE, had stepped in when these intelligent and promising young men began to exhibit bizarre behavior, could these tragedies have been averted.    
     To me, this makes this a tragedy on multiple levels.  Not only are there horrific deaths, injuries, and families destroyed because of the actions of a madman but there is also the tragedy of perpetrator.  Was there a time when he could have been helped and the heartbreak that resulted from his actions averted?  His family will have to live with the possibility that perhaps they could have done something to prevent this catastrophe.  The accused shooter in Aurora is obviously a brilliant young man.  With his descent into madness, there was the permanent loss of a bright future that could have benefitted humanity in an unknown number of ways.   
     So what should be done?  Is it possible for society help to prevent this from occurring yet again?  We can certainly try and the way is simple: be more aware.  Don't be afraid to speak up.  Don't be afraid to ask questions.  Don't be afraid to reach out and show someone that they are not alone.  Be kind.  Don't pass judgement.  Mental illness is NOT a character flaw.  It is a disease of the brain, just like diabetes is a disease of the pancreas and arthritis is a disease of the joint except with mental illness the person affected has a change in personalitly and behavior instead of evelated blood sugar or pain.   If everyone were to take the incentive of making a simple gesture of reaching out and showing concern prior to the ultimate mental decompensation, perhaps a disaster may be averted.  We may never know, but if something does occur at least we may know that we tried.  While the American society is based upon individual freedoms we need to realize that as an integrated community that has become smaller with the use of technology, collectively we DO have a responsibility to be our brother's keeper.    
     I don't have the answer to why these horrific massacres occur.  I know true evil exists in the world but I also know there are many people who cannot get needed mental health care.  Perhaps the Colorado shooter is the personification of evil, but maybe his actions are a result of a sick and delusional mind that is a vicitm of people looking the other way and allowing him to not receive the help he needed to continue his life and subsequently allow his victims' to continue their lives.   In closing I'd like to leave my dear readers with this thought:  in America it is easier for someone to legally obtain firearms than it is to obtain adequate treatment for mental illness.  Until that changes I believe we will all be victims.

Coming back to life...

OK...almost a week ago I went to see a new internist.

She. Is. Awesome.

My new doctor must have sat and visited me for at least 30 minutes.  She did not try to analyze my neuropsychoses, she validated my feelings and, despite confessing that she is not a specialist in psychology, started me on a SNRI (selective norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor).  She does want me to see a shrink within the Scott and White system because that is not her area of expertise and she wants to make sure that I am on the correct pharmaceutical regimen.  So...I started on Effexor XR last Tuesday.  Today is Sunday and I feel like I am finally back.  I'm not exactly normal, but it's like I'm trying to rejoin the human race.

Last Friday, John and I had plans to go out to a local bar to see a concert.  We (I) had made similar plans many times during the last six or so months but it was always I who backed out with excuses..."I'm too tired" or "I just don't want to go."  Basically, I had no joy in going out, and those who know me best know that I LOVE to go out to live music events!  It has been so insanely sad to me that I just could not make myself go. So after dressing and primping and getting into the car to head out to my friend Weezy's house, I realized that I was FINALLY doing it!  I was in the car and I was excited to be heading out to a very crowded show!  We met up with our friends, we had a huge time, Cody Johnson was electrifying, his fiddle player, Jody Bartula (who was Joey's fiddle teacher for a few months) rocked it out, and Kyle Park was equally covered in awesomesauce (at least I think he was...I told you we had a lot of fun!! And by fun I mean Tito's and Shiner...and somehow I ended up with a little bit of a black eye, but that's another foggy story).

That of course leads me to Saturday which was a little bit rough but I was still on the happy high of going out and having a blast.  Truly, the end-all hangover from Hell would be a small price to pay for the opportunity to go out and have fun!!  For the last few months I really believed that I would never, ever, have that kind of free-spirited good time again.  Today (Sunday) I was able to accomplish more in the terms of housework and mundane things than I think I have in almost a year.

I'm not saying that I'm entirely out of the dark woods of depression but I am noticing a huge difference.  If there is anyone out there who is feeling like no one will listen and they cannot get help for depression...please, please, please do not give up.  Keep looking for a physician whom will help you!  Do not be afraid of being a "doctor shopper."  Be an advocate for yourself, keep searching for someone who is not afraid to help you and never be afraid of telling the truth.  I have found that sharing the burden of this battle with depression has given confidence.  In no way do I want to become an advocate for depression awareness, but when you are in the midst of a depressive episode, it is the loneliest and darkest place that a person can ever be.  I did not realize this, but my closest friends knew that something was going on with me.  They had a suspicion that I was depressed but they just did not know how to approach me.  I had never talked about this ongoing challenge openly.  I was ashamed, like it was a personal weakness that I should be able to conquer on my own (ugh! Hubris is a horrid character trait).  I have received so much support from my friends and family.  It is truly humbling.  I think that by publicly acknowledging my fight with depression I removed the invisible wall of denial that I have been hiding behind for so many years.  It's out there now...everyone knows...the secret is moot.  

So that is where I'm at.  I love each and every once of my friends and family whom have offered their support over the last week.  I feel like I've turned a major corner in a positive direction.  I'm ready to start living again.

Depression...my unwanted Muse

So...my first true blog post isn't going to be all fun, rainbows and unicorns. It is about my last (and currently ongoing) stumble into clinical depression. Truthfully, I've had all about all I can to hold myself together to keep drawing breath into my lungs, much less go out and catch some live music.  That is what depression does to a body.  It doesn't matter if you have the best fucking life that can ever be imagined by the poorest of the poor...if you are stuck in the black vortex of clinical depression it is as if the salt of the world is drained from your existence and everything...EVERYTHING...exists in various shades of gray.  The sun doesn't shine.  Birds don't sing.  All food tastes exactly the same.  The darkness of night is the blackest of all blacks.  Being awake feels the same as when you are asleep.  You actually feel the world moving past you at a faster speed, almost as if you are trapped in some kind of a parallel universe where the depressed individual (me) is stuck in the bottom of an emotional hole that can't be seen, only experienced, and there is no obvious way to get out.

This is not a new experience for me.  I've battled this for most of my life.  Prior episodes, I would just be able to retreat into myself until this gloom lifted.  recently it has become much harder to do this since I am now an adult, wife, and mother.  This past summer I sought help from my physician.  I asked her if I could try one of the new medications that have had promising results when added to an existing SSRI.  She hemmed and hawed, refused to prescribe the medication for me, and made me go to a psychiatrist.  Now, I went to the shrink...hoping(!!) that maybe my problem really was "in my head" but I found it to be a disappointing experience.  In the four or five appointments (that were all taped...better to be picked apart by psych students in future classes) he had diagnosed my problems as poor self-esteem (no shit?!?!) that stemmed from a volatile relationship with my mother (Really, Einstein?  What a fucking genius.)  And a overwhelming sense of powerlessness and lack of control in my future (Really, dude? You went to college to tell me that?).  He them talked me through these exercises where I was to fantasize about killing my mother (or husband, or child, or whomever he thought may be the source of my poor self-esteem) and then yell at the bodies and tell them how wronged I felt.  Once I did that then I was to "put the bodies back together and bury them in a loving manner"...double-you, tee, eff??  This is supposed to make me feel more powerful and in control?  Are you fucking serious??  All it made me feel was guilty and worse about myself that I could even entertain the thought of hurting the people that I love.  (Now that I think about it, perhaps that is what the head-shrink in Afghanistan told those Marines to visualize pissing on dead Taliban because they were pissed at them for killing their buddies...and so they did, but did it only in real life...hmmmm, interesting.)  Anyhow,  I told the shrink multiple times that I was not comfortable with his technique and he brushed off my concerns so I made up some shit about being a MaMa Grizzly and tearing someone to pieces just to get him off my ass (I told him it was my husband but I was imagining HIM.  Last laugh: me.) and I didn't go back.  He also didn't adjust my medication.  Douchnozzle. 

The bottom line is that I know I'm not perfect.  I know my life doesn't suck.  I may not have had the perfect "Brady Bunch" home life growing up, but who does??  Life is hard for everyone.  I don't think that I have any unrealistic expectations about what my life SHOULD be...it is what it is.  Sure, I would like some things to be different but I can't change that.  My feelings are not a result of a pity-party.  This depression is an all-encompassing feeling of sadness and an overwhelming desire to find a corner, curl up in a ball, crying, and hiding.  I don't want a magic lamp and genie to grant me all my wishes.  That wouldn't make this sadness disappear.   

What I DO WANT is this black cloud of despair to leave me the fuck alone!!!  I want to be able to sleep at night and wake up in the morning.  I want to be able to get dressed without feeling like I have to get myself amped up as if I'm going to run a marathon.  I want to be able to enjoy time with my son and not be afraid to fly off the handle at any moment.  I want to be able to be a productive partner in my marriage.  I want to be able to look forward to something...anything.  I'm not a moron when it comes to medicine.  I'm a nurse and I'm very familiar with the risks/benefits of medication.  I also know that long term clinical depression is a disorder where there is a chemical imbalance in the brain.  It's NOT psychological...it's a physiological condition that manifests as a psychological condition and if given enough time the psychological component may overshadow the physiological aspects. 

So this is where I've been at for the last few months.  There have been some bright spots where I've felt that maybe I'm coming out of it but all have been frustratingly fleeting...a mere glimpse at normalcy.  I'm again looking for a new doctor.  This one I have found is older than the last one (who was out of med school and her residency for 4 years) and specializes in women's health.  Until then I just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other and keep drawing breath.  If I stop doing those two things then the black vortex has won.

Stay tuned....

Hi y'all.  Well, I finally made good on my threat to start up a blog.  I'm still fine tuning this thing...so being the technotard that I am it may be rough for a bit.

Keep checking back and hopefully I'll be up and running, snarking with the best of them.

:)