The "White-Knuckle/Blue" world I live in.

White-Knuckles and a Blue Filter

Try to imagine the feeling you get when you miss a stair.  It's brief but for just a moment  you know you're falling.  Now imagine that feeling but you're carrying your infant child in your arms.  Once again brief but now you've compounded the problem with the fear of not being able to catch yourself because you can't just drop your child and you also fear that you're going to hurt the child when you fall.

Not so hard to imagine right? Well the next part might be more of a stretch. Imagine that feeling all the time, with no warning or reason.  Certain events can make it worse but you live with the fear every waking and often sleeping moment. It can be done but it takes a lot of energy and focus.

Okay, now another exercise.

You lost your job.  You have a family to support.  It's your only source of income.  It was something you could have prevented if you had only done "X and Y" (sorry I'm taking Math and variables had to work their way into the metaphor). 

Okay, you got that in your mind but what if you have a happy secure life.  What if you feel like that and everything is going well?  You have no major problems but you feel constantly that something is wrong and that it's your fault?  When something big comes along you get worse but you always feel wrong.

These two feelings all the time are what it's like to have Anxiety and Depressive disorders.

The problem is worse when you have both.  A person might question how you can function at all.  You just do.  At least most days you can.  You push through when you must and let it out when you can.  You run. You write.  You have artistic endeavors but the normal state can be coped with because you have to.  You also have to be on guard for triggers that push you too far.  

I have a neighbor that means well, he's older,divorced and often lonely.  His lawn and yard are perfect and he can't understand why mine is not.  The problem comes when he wants to help. Not physically. With advice.  I will gather yard tools and head out to finish a project or start one.  I've purchased the supplies I need and I will get down to business.  No sooner does Fred see me working that he is out to the fence-line asking what I'm doing. My personality does not allow me to be rude and ignore him.  So I  try to explain.  Fred, meaning well, thinks I am doing it wrong or that it's not a good idea and should try something else.   I know I've got a limited window of time and a limited supply of resources to finish and each minute he explains why I should do it some other way steals my time.  Each suggestion requires resources that I don't have because I have already planned it out and purchased what I need.

I can't set foot in my backyard anymore. Haven't spent more than an hour there in 2 years.  I can work on the front but when I try to go in the back, I end up on the floor in the fetal position.

My Father in law is a good man.  He wanted to be an architect but after finishing his Bachelor's degree in drafting he was not having success getting into an architectural program.   He did some research and got a graduate degree in recreation. He worked hard and made something of himself.  He's also often tactless when speaking with people.  He loves to give advice.  He doesn't like to listen.  He often is critical even when offering a compliment.  "You did a good job, I never thought you could" type of guy.  

I don't go where I know he's going to be unless I can't avoid it.  Every deep verbal cut from someone that I respect bleeds my self confidence until I no longer have any.  There are family things that I can't  miss.  So I go.  I leave early.  I orchestrate plans to keep away from him because there's little I can handle when everyday life already beats down on someone who lives with depression.

I've made it a long way the past few years but there are still situations I can't  handle.

Last week my son was baptized.   I had to be there.  I needed to be there for JJ. But I had to skip the luncheon afterwards. Couldn't risk losing control.  I'd had nightmares for weeks of the horrible things I might say to someone if I was backed into an emotional corner.

 

Tomorrow is my nephew's baptism.  I took care of that amazing kid during the day for years and just like my own son's baptism I'm not missing it.  But I will be barely holding it all together.  I've been losing sleep. So if I don't seem sociable please don't hold it against me. I'm white-knuckling it the whole time.

The Sharp Metamorphisis

Preface

I've discussed the day in detail in my blog before and I've talked to some of my friends frankly about it but I've never really said in a large forum that I have survived a suicide attempt.  It's been almost 2 years but it has been fresh lately due to my involvement in the opera "Madama Butterfly."

The Butterfly

I've relived that day in a fresh way many times as I've watched, from the wings, the third act.

I often tell Derek Myler, who sings the role of Sharpless, that his character is my favorite.  Part of it is because he performs it with a sweetness and a sincerity.  A good portion of why it's my favorite character is in the final scene.  Chio Chio San blindfolds Sorrow and he holds his American flag while she proceeds to commit Hari Kari.  Pinkerton and Sharpless enter and while Pinkerton wails and watches helpless while Chio Chio San's life drains from her, Sharpless runs to Sorrow and holds him and shields him from the horros that a child should never witness.

Like Butterfly, I too chose to end my life.  I chose to do it at home.  I posted my reasons on a status message and locked myself away to shield my family, much like the blindfold that Chio Chio San wraps over Sorrow's eyes and head.

I described a moment of clarity after I had taken the pills, and prepared to take some sleeping pills as well so that I could just fall asleep, in my earlier post on this moment.  It didn't come from myself but I never told of what I saw.

I saw my wife unlocking the bedroom door and finding me,  I saw my children now unprotected from the sight as my wife would have cried out and they would surely have come to her aid.  I saw that the blindfold I had put between me and them was a lie.

After my ordeal and my fight for my life.  I became protective.  I worried about my children and how what I had done would affect them.  I tried to shield them from it.  When someone does something like that at home inevitably DCFS and the police will make a wellness visit.  I was grateful to have them come but fearful of the effect of reliving the moment on my children.  When they came I asked if we could do most of the interview outside in the shade of the maple tree while my children were inside.  I welcomed them to talk to my children and even look at my home after if that was necessary but I wanted to protect them from what I had done as much as possible.  They were so gracious and it was mostly me they needed to see and make sure that I was getting the help I needed.  Many people are angry with or afraid of the authorities but I was grateful for their kindness and compassion and talking with them was part of my healing process.

I had to dye my hair for the opera and I see a different person in the mirror since then.  I change even more as I apply the stage make-up that completes my transformation for the opera.  It reminds me that I was once Butterfly and have changed.  Part of me is now Sharpless.  Holding on to my family and trying to shield them from my depression and anxiety.

So when I cry at the end, it is for the joy that I have in avoiding the scene I watch on stage.

I have become something else since then.

If you haven't read my account of the day you can find it in the blog contents under consequences, or this link:

http://timmair.blogspot.com/2013/08/this-one-worries-me-to-post-but-part-of.html

It's a process

This was my Facebook status but I thought it went well on my blog as well.

I'm not feeling very intelligent today. I feel awkward and not successful. I feel drained. I also feel a little sick. My brain is not my friend sometimes. My limbic system and amygdala are overworked when I force myself to do things that are good for me but cause anxiety. They respond by trying to slow me down. That's what seems to bring on the depression. My mind wants me to stop and think about what it is that causes the stress and how to fix it. But the logic centers know that I have been actually doing something good so my subconscious mind deduces that it must be me that is the problem.

Usually that makes me feel like I should lash out at myself and warn the rest of the world away from me too but today I'm trying to reason it out. Use the over analyzing that comes with depressed mindset (that's actually one of the natural functions of depressed mindsets in everyone just some people have a greater tendency to use it as their go to problem solving mode and I believe we actually become addicted to it) but use this mindset to fix it. By trying to use specific language to describe what is happening. Instead of lashing out at myself, I am making an effort to analyze what I have control over and what is out of my hands.

I don't always remember to do things this way but today I did. And thought that I would do it in a public way so maybe someone else could see that they are not alone if they are struggling. Our world needs us to remove the stigmas about mental illness so that dialogs can happen and more people can be helped. I'm still drained but there's hope too. I need rest but my mind is less foggy.

Indian Summer

It seems so warm for November

And the days still felt so long.

We'd have the sun it seemed forever

But the snow still fell and proved me wrong.

And I regret not taking time

To spend together in the sun

To run and walk, your hand mine

Before our time was all but done.

Indian summer is a tricky kind of friend

She holds your hand so tight and sure

But sooner or later warmer weather has to end.

Indian Summer can't endure.

Hear the bugler sound.

Hear the bugler sound.
Feet standing firm on the ground.
The sound  of the their hearts ringing loud.
Stout hearts are strong 'cause their proud. 

They never claimed to be brave
They rarely see the ones that they save.  
The red rose it covers the ground   
One heartbeat barely a sound.  

Hear the bugler sound.   
White lilies cover the ground.             
The sound of gunfire rings loud.
The heads of the people are bowed.
 
Father take this one in your breast.
This one has passed the test.
Stoutly this one held their ground
While cannon fire raged all around.

Fire voices

There's a fire.
It burns bright both day and night.
There's a wind.
It stirs the fire and makes it glow.       
There's the cold.
That makes you yearn to reach the fire.
There's your feet.
Bruised, bloody and swollen from trying to make it.
There's the mind.
Telling you that you can never be warm.
There's the voices.
They call you to join them at the fire.
There's your hearbeat.
The cadence that keeps you moving to the music of the voices, to escape the cold and to reach the fire.  To warm your soul.

Perspective - Today vs 2 months vs 2 years Battery life better or worse?

I'm not going to church this morning.  It would be great.  It's the primary program after all.  The children will all sing and get up to repeat the lines that their teacher whispers in their ears.  So adorable. But with it brings lots of people.

I have learned that I'm still good at being social and I can even maintain a social  extroverted side for long periods of time but it severely drains my battery.  I have to recharge.  I began to feel this morning as if I had gone backwards because it's been so hard lately to go to church.  I got so good after first starting my medication at going at least for Sacrament that not being there now is making me feel like I've made no progress.

Then I look at where I've been for the last two years.

Surely this is where I started if I look at just today.  2 years ago being around people began to stress me more and more.  Church was always so full and then you file into a class room to sit even closer with others without the benefit of your wife and kids as a buffer it gets worse.  It's hard to concentrate long enough to feel the spirit when your mind tells you that you should be running and that you're having a heart attack at the same time.

After going through that more and more for many months I sought help and treatment and things got better.  By this time last year I was doing reasonably better.  Though I had moments (like when Tina lost her job) that it was hard to be around people I still could usually make it to at least part of church and talk to people about it.

I was conditioning my social batteries to accept a bigger and bigger charge so to speak.  Then this Summer came and it started to get a little harder to sit in church again.  I was able to do things like practice piano in a room during gospel doctrine and that usually gave me a little recharge to make it through the rest but I could tell it was getting worse.  In the past 2 months it has gotten almost as hard for me as it was 2 years ago up until right before I sought treatment.  Have I really undone everything?

Sitting here I realize that I haven't gone backwards.  Certainly I'm doing more now than ever.

This past Summer I started working on campus.  That was draining but as a custodian I didn't HAVE to socialize a lot.  I could work through it.  But in August school started and I was also singing with the dedicatory choir for the Ogden Temple.  Suddenly I'm socializing 8 or 9 hours a day 6 days a week with only a Saturday to recharge.  My better conditioned social battery has been running on maximum and draining all the way each week.  My battery still charges rather slowly so I don't always have a full charge to make it.

It was hardest right after the dedication.  I was recognized.  Lots of people would come to me and say how great the choir was.  Not realizing how hard that is for me to handle.  It's even more difficult for me because I have a weird philosophy about singing in church.  It should be acknowledged but more in the way you do a prayer.  It's not a performance.  it's a participation in the ceremony that is a church meeting.  The choir in the dedication more so.  You can disagree with me if you want that's ok.  It's just how I feel.  I would rather someone come up and say "Good Talk"  or "Good Testimony" than acknowledge my singing or my prayer.  I'm not saying others are wrong but simply trying to get it out how difficult it is for me to field praise in those situations.  It is like your phone working over time to find a signal when there is none or very little to be had.  The battery drains faster and faster and it begins to overheat at times.  Not to mention that socializing in general is much like running your phone or tablet with the screen on nearly all the time.  My screen is my face and body and voice as I attempt to be the extrovert I feel is required when I'm around people.

I realize that I haven't gone backward.  I'm still getting better and I'm learning more and more ways to not only better condition my social battery but also to turn off programs when they're not needed so that I can conserve energy, turn off the screen at times.  Put it on airplane mode at times.

I get better everyday.  Don't give up on me but if you reach out to me and I back away, it's not about you.  I'm just trying to save my battery for a long period of time without recharge.