The cowardly black shroud has lifted. I know not fully. Not for good. It has pulled itself off my head, shoulders, core, arms and legs. I has dropped to the floor. It could easily trip me up. I can likely get back up however. I am not cloaked and choked.
Something funny happened this morning. Not humorous funny. Sad, bad, mad funny. It took me 15-20 minutes to recognize it. It has been a long time since I’ve felt this way. What is this feeling? It feels like I’ve had too much coffee. I haven’t taken my meds yet. I’m anticipating something. Not something pleasant. I have slight sense of impending doom. Shit. I remember. This is the black cloak’s friend. Sometimes its flip-side.
Depression and anxiety. My best friends. Shitty friends. The kind of friends who talk behind your back, and indeed bully you when you’re fourteen years. Yet you stay with them because they are the only friends you know. You hope things will improve. It’s a common phenomenon for people to have both conditions. Anxiety, both from what I’ve read, and from my own experience, feels much than depression. until it doesn’t. When my depression had me so crippled that I didn’t give a shit about anything, then my anxiety was minimal. It appears that has lifted to a point that the anxiety is pouring back back in. Tumbling down into my severe depression I was on Xanax. It was working wonders for my anxiety. It was close to instantly calming. Xanax is a benzodiazapine. The are habit-forming (addictive) and strongly counter-indicated among alcoholics. In one of my hospital stays I was knocked out for two days on barbiturates and taken off them. I had some anxiety over the worst year of my depression. Some drugs were tried out. I didn’t respond spectacularly well to any of them, but enough to continue on. The first thought this morning was that I want benzos. I craved them. I was never addicted to them, but I craved them. I wondred could I ‘make’ my psych give them to me. I know he wont, but it’s such a tempting prospect. I know many addicts of various substances, including benzos. Some of them bought them online. For a split second I had the genius idea of joining their ranks. They are very expensive online. That option is out. A good thing. I am now in a position with my anxiety, that without help I can feel things spinning again. I am currently trying to get back to work. I am trying to study to brush up rusty skills. I was doing great until recently. My concentration the last of so has been awful. Now it’s virtually nil. I hope I can attend interviews confidently. A few weeks I think this would have been easy.
So depression lifting can increase anxiety. That’s good news. I preferred depression over anxiety. The fun experiment now is to see if anxiety causes a relapse into depression. Full circle baby. Wouldn’t that be amusing? A cyclical nightmare. I might have a few good, no, okay, months in the middle. While the depression is nearly gone. I might function pretty normally. And then the cycle might begin again. I cannot live in a world of what ifs…. It’s hard not too, but honest, if this is the future I don’t want it. I not longer have severe depression. My dangerous behaviors along with my suicidality are gone. There are little pangs now and again. My anxiety is unlikely to kill me. It is unlikely to kill me. It is likely to make life miserable. For a very recently single mom, coming out of depression, looking for a new job, with extremely severe financial issues what now? What next? Keep fighting. I know. That’s my job. I’m a mom. The kids come first. So mom comes last? What about my oxygen mask? What happened it. I think it fell to the floor in the shuffle.
So in this in between phase in my life, I am here. Like it or not. It kind of seems unfair. I’ve gone through two years of hell. I’ve worked my ass to crawl up and out of the hole. Yet here I am. Again. It doesn’t seem fair. I want a break. And chance? I guess not. Whoever said life was fair?
Running Half Empty 