Working through some more thoughts and personal actions–this may be rather boring to most. Just a warning….. 🙂
Whether I’m experiencing a mild or a severe episode of depression, I seem to compound the issue by berating myself over thoughts becoming “all about me”. I forget how my actions appear to others. I know that this is the illness, and I have little control over what direction my mind takes. However, an inner battle is constantly being fought.
While I understand the need to please everyone is futile, I’m “normally” very cognizant of the feelings of others, and I will go out of my way to avoid hurting someone’s feelings–even those of a stranger. The ability to care becomes lost in the fog, while on some level I’m mad at myself for not caring.
Same goes for the scanxiety issue I deal with every six months. While my fear can be overwhelming, it impacts those close to me in the same manner. Not by the way I’m distracted, short tempered, or quiet, but they are experiencing the same anxiety.
Mean doctors are mean. You’d think they could come up with a faster way to do what they have to do. I want them to be thorough, but geesh…
Who knows, one day, maybe they will come up with a machine to read scan results. A machine which will highlight all the funky stuff. A machine which will eliminate human error.
The relief of a clean scan is just as powerful to my husband and kids, as it is to me. I’m learning to whoop it up and celebrate–well, I intend to at the beginning of next month. I no longer wish to stuff my feelings down.
If the tables were turned, and it was one of my family members, I would be just as worried and relieved when the good news is revealed. Why don’t I think other people feel this way as well?
Oh, what a complex web our minds weave.
Recognizing that depression and anxiety aren’t simply personal experiences—they are family experiences—isn’t an aha moment for me. This is the ugly character of the illness.
While I’m in a stable mood, I’m hoping to relinquish my need to do everything myself. I’m probably fooling myself, thinking I will always have some sort of control, but I recognize that some of my thoughts exacerbate the depression, and inhibit recovery.
If I have learned that I’m I fueling the depression by my screwy thoughts, can I control the severity, if faced with that huge crappy pit again?
Oh my gosh! What an odd place the mind vacations while depressed. During a depressive episode, or a wash of anxiety, all I want is for someone to take over the navigation. I want to be taken care of—but not really. Inside my skewed little mind, I want to seriously do it myself because I expect to do it all. My illness, my responsibility—and I don’t care.
Just as I asked my oncologist about the odds of having a recurrence, I asked my therapist about the return of depression. Doctors don’t know everything. How in heck are they supposed to answer those questions?
Do I really want to know?
All that is certain is right now–this very moment. The moment I’m spending on the computer while procrastinating–again.
…and I still have to go to the grocery store.