Tag: depression

Okay so I know you’re getting a ton of these but I realized I have PTSD not long before I started Sansukh for the first time and I am a ‘bad’ PTSD-haver because it manifests as these bursts of rage and destruction followed by total withdrawal and numbness rather than the standard victim behavior, and your Thorin helped me come to terms with that so much. Thank you. Sansukh means the world to me. Thank you for giving me the chance to be at ease with myself. Thank you.

Oh, Non. *hugs* No. Thank you.

I worked out my explosive anger last night, by writing that prose piece. So I’ve been pretty mellow and calm ever since.

What I’ve taken away from the last day, though? Is that there are a lot of people who aren’t into being told what we ‘should’ do in order to be acceptable and good little model mentally ill people. I’m getting a lot of messages. Dozens and dozens, actually. There are a LOT. 

So many people are telling me that it matters that i wrote him like me, like this. Like us. And that has actually brought me to tears, when the original witless anon hate didn’t even come CLOSE: it just made my temper snap. It didn’t touch me in my soul.

Apparently there are a lot of people like you and me and Sansukh’s Thorin, Nonnie.

I’m so glad. I’m so so glad. That this thing I wrote has actually meant something to you, and to others. I’m so so glad it has helped. God knows we can use a little help now and then. That I did something good helps me, and humbles me and makes me just SO grateful. Thank you for your support and for sharing with me this very personal thing. We’re not alone, it seems. *hugs*

“Guest Review”

(by determamfidd)

And I’m not the only one who thinks this.

I remember the days after my daughter was born, the months of crying, the grey in everything – the air, the food, the breath i took – the sucking black hole that was my mind and the way it wanted to eat my life up, everything that was good in me and about me, how I became a small corner of myself, how I hated everything and everyone, even her, even me (especially me)

I remember being 14 years old and bulimic, 10 years old and cutting my hair off, 16 years old and drunk, 19 years old, 25, 19, 21 and thinking, everyone thinks you’re useless, worthless, unless you keep succeeding, succeeding, succeeding, you have to do better, it is what YOU ARE FOR, you’re letting everyone down if you don’t, you must be better

I remember thinking: I showed such promise, they must have loved me back then, why didn’t I live up to it, why do I never live up to it, 

I remember hurting myself

I remember thinking I deserved it

I remember thinking, and I’m not the only one who thinks this.

…

So if you though you were doing your part to represent depressed people with him, all you did was make people hate them more.

I’ve just spent three months climbing back out of the black hole. My mind periodically tries to bury me alive every now and then. This was a bad one

I’ve seen you telling me, others, everyone, that we are doing a bad job being ourselves and telling our stories, that we are the ones making people hate us (more)

it amazes me (but not really)

that you claim to give a damn

about people like me

when this foul sludge SHIT, this monstrous, disgusting playground doggerel 

is what you inflict on us, and then tell us it is our fault that you say these things to us

Psst. Wanna know a secret? you see, the reason it doesn’t actually amaze me? Is because I have depression. I have depression. I am a person who lives with depression.

(do my Sick Mind credentials satisfy you? Do I pass your “tests”, will you stop harassing me now?)

Guess how many times someone has told me ‘you’re doing depression wrong’. Guess. I want you to guess. I want you to guess how many times, and then I want you to really, properly think. 

(if you can)

About how little you count to me, about how little you matter. Little, little voice.

Think how many times, how many ways, a person with a real mental illness has heard someone like you using them as a prop in their argument

Think how many times, how many ways, a person with a real mental illness has heard someone like you tell them ‘everything you do isn’t good enough’

Think how many times, how many ways, a person with a real mental illness has heard someone like you telling them that they’re not enough and cannot speak for themself

Think how many times, how many ways, a person with a real mental illness has heard someone like you telling them that they make people hate them, their illness makes people hate them

Little. You’re so so little. Compared to all the other voices, all our lives long. You’re tiny. A speck. 

You’re just another little voice, trying desperately (oh so desperately) to talk over me. telling me I cannot adequately represent myself.

A nasty, cruel, rather boring and unimaginative little voice. And oh, isn’t it so very, very interesting to note how many people perceive you as annoying and awful?

perhaps you and the character you hate so much have something in common. 

Please. Enjoy that thought.

…

Maybe it happens IRL but nobody wants to slog through chapters of it

Tell me about it. 

It’s my life.

And I am allowed to tell it, and people are allowed to enjoy it.

And you 

don’t

get

to

tell

anyone

anyone at all

“no”.

You are not the keeper of me. You are not the arbiter of creativity. You are not the judge and the jury of my words: you do not get to tell me what to write. You do not get to tell me what to be. You do not get to say whether my life and my writing and the way I use writing to cope and express myself is unworthy

I can write out the black hole in my head and I can put it in the mind of a character, and I will love them 

(The way I couldn’t love me)

And it will be enough for me. And that is the point, the whole fucking point. 

and you, little whining voice, little bully, tiny ineffectual harasser of the mentally ill 

“Oh but it’s for your own good! You’re telling your story wrong! You’re not doing it justice! You’re making us hate you!” – yeah, I’ve heard it all before

You

can go kiss Thorin Oakenshield.

ello you bunch of fab babes

I am a lot better. Though that is a very subjective sort of statement (murrrrljshgdjhaasjhdlsajh) AHA I AM BETTER(-ISH). Betterness has been achieved! Betterishness ahoy! I will be easing back into fandom in slow increments, a little bit at a time. I’ve already begun recording over my latest compositions. And I’ve begun revising my notes and have resumed writing on Sansukh! BETTEROSITY AWAITS.

*pins badge on chest that says “NEW AND SOMEWHAT IMPROVED!!!!!!!” There are a lot of exclamation points on it.*

SO, silliness aside. Yes, I just wanna say, I adore you all. So much. I’ve popped online tonight (with many internal wriggly-niggly and sickly feelings of guilt and worry and generally not-feeling-real-or-belonging-ness) to see such beautiful kindness, to see so many heartfelt and funny and supportive messages from you. From friends. 

I can’t even begin to encapsulate in words just how deeply, deeply wonderful you all are. I do hope you know how incredibly, humanly, blessedly, beautifully kind you are. 

Because you are. 

@poplitealqueen, @scarletjedi, @kailthia, @katajainen, @ninayasmijn, @thorinsdick, @culturalrebel (mah babe), @kiev4am, @gimleafanatic, @ambrorussa, @strawhat-loser, @bodysnatch3r, @magicisgreen, @badimirputin, @motherhen-bear, @grandwretch, @emsiecat, @courtugger, @searchtheruinsfortrapdoors, @fishfingersandscarves – thank you, most especially. 

Thank you. 

hey everybody

a quick note to let you all know that I am alive, if not 100%. It’s been a fairly horrible few months, culminating in a truly nightmarish couple of weeks. Due to these events, illness, some terrible stress, and good ole fashioned depression, I’m currently not well at all, huzzah (sarcasm). So, I temporarily retreated from fandom to focus on my health and family. 

I’ll be okay. Thank you to all who have sent messages to cheer me up or asking after me. I love you dearly. @poplitealqueen, @dain-mothafocka, @kailthia, @culturalrebel, @emsiecat, @goldberryintherushes, @ninayasmijn, @gimleafanatic, @thorinsdick, @elenothar – you are all beautiful and good-hearted people, and I’m proud and grateful to call you friends. Gimme a day or two more to get my head together, I’ll be back. 

(you can’t have my firstborn – besides, she’s two, she has Epic Tantrums nowadays – but I’ll totally buy you a kitten if you like? 🙂

I have TONS of asks to answer, and I hope to get around to them next week. I’m so sorry to those who have been waiting. Be patient with me just a little longer.

xxx

Dets

This is a really personal question, you’re under no obligation to post or answer, but you’ve been open about your struggles with depression so I thought it was worth an ask. My spouse is bi-polar. Medication helps him, but it’s far, far from a perfect solution, and he gets in these depressive funks that last weeks. I understand that it’s an illness and he can’t help it, but I feel so helpless just watching him do nothing, listlessly, for hours on end. I ask him if there is anything I can (tbc)

(continued) do, and he just says, “I don’t know.” But I guess, a question for other people who live with depression or bi-polar disorder, is there anything I can do? Usually I try to provide some distraction–if I’m not working, I can read to him. Or I suggest he watch a TV show (though he won’t unless I put it on for him). Any other ideas? Or am I doing it wrong, should I just let him do nothing (literally, he just sits there staring into space, looking miserable, for hours on end)? Help?

First of all: *hugs*

Second of all: you’re not doing anything wrong. You’re not. YOU’RE NOT. Depression and depressive illnesses are awful. You’re there for your spouse, and you love him. Nothing wrong about that.

It may be that he needs a different medication, if his body has grown too familiar to his usual one. Worth talking to people about. 

I can only tell you about my own experiences, and a few of the things that have assisted in my own depressive episodes. I’ve also used these things when I’ve been with members of my family who also have illnesses. I hope some of this is useful to you. But (and I’m sure I don’t already have to say this), your situation will be different, because he is different, you’re different, his illness is different. 

Okay, I’m about to be super frank and personal, so under the cut I go.

1. DOING. ANYTHING. NEARBY.

Anything I can join in on, even in an observational capacity, HELPS. Not being alone with my Big Black Dog Thoughts. My husband sometimes just works in the same room as me. IT HELPS. He plays music, sometimes it’s a song I like and know and I sing along (can’t ever stop me singing heh). He watches a television series: I’ll watch it too, because it’s already there and playing. 

(this is how I recently got into ‘Cleverman’ holy shit it is brilliant)

It makes me feel like my company is worth something, too, even when I am a fucking useless wreck. 

Occasionally it’s just the pair of us working on our laptops in the family room. And I will stop and be sad and listless, or cry. And he will put his hand on my foot, and that’s that. I can be sad, and that’s all right, but I’m not alone to be sad. 

Sometimes he listens when I’m ranting, and that’s good too. That’s all good. 

2. Stuff that is Too Hard.

Sometimes, even taking a fucking shower feels like Everest. And so what my husband does (and what I’ve done in the past for my sister)… he runs a bath for me. A nice one. One I like to take. Bubbles and everything, super indulgent. It’s a small thing, but it’s SO GOOD. And I’d never do it for myself.

We have a system of cups of tea when we’re stressed. Peppermint tea is my fave, because it makes my stomach calm, wakes me up a little and tastes fresh. Sometimes too, the settling of my stomach makes me hungry again (I often stop eating when I’m low). 

Work, urgh. When I’m depressed, facing work is torture. Getting up is torture. Being AWAKE is torture. So Mr Dets leaves a coffee for me EACH AND EVERY MORNING. He helps me make the Dwarfling’s lunch every evening. There’s vegemite toast waiting when I get up. Small stuff, so that I can handle the big stuff, like being a mum and going to work and dragging myself to the shower and not being a wreck.

3. Schedule Schedule Schedule

This is the thing that has helped me SO MUCH. I don’t enforce our chores/weekend schedule. Mr Dets does, mostly. If it were me, I’d lie in bed all weekend and never do anything ever.

But he has this weird thing about wearing clean clothes 😀

Saturday morning, we do a Whole Family Thing, ALL THREE OF US. Outside. Go to a park, go out to lunch: even if it’s only an hour we never fail to go. I don’t pull out of it, because it’s our routine. Because the Dwarfling (and I) deserve not to be cooped up all day in the house.

We have a ‘Movie Night’ WITHOUT FAIL every Saturday. No matter what. Toddler goes to bed, Mr Dets sticks on the microwave popcorn and opens a beer for us both. We turn off all the lights, stick a DVD on, and watch a film.

Sunday is grocery shopping and House Reset. We go to the farmer’s market, buy food, do laundry. We do the folding together, while watching Mad as Hell or whatever series has recently caught Mr Dets’ eye. I have to participate: this is my home, my life, part of my responsibilities towards my family, and I can’t slink away. I fold clothes. He irons.

This also makes me feel less useless.

Like I said, these things have helped me. Often, I’m unresponsive EXCEPT for these things, because my ability to interact without being exhausted is virtually nil. 

But not being alone, being able to participate as an observer, small gestures (like a piece of toast or a cup of tea) that make big things easier, and placing my responsibilities inside a schedule of my own choosing (one that I feel honour-bound to respect, one that I do not, in fact, enforce, but just go along with) – these things help me. They’ve helped other members of my family deal with their own Big Black Woofers. 

You’re not doing anything wrong. You’re not. Depression makes everyone feel helpless, that’s part of what is terrible about it. 

I hope all of this personal blah is helpful, or gives you some ideas. There’s much MUCH more professional advice on sites like BlackDog and BeyondBlue. 

My heart and thoughts go out to you and your spouse, Nonnie. All my love to you both.