Embracing My Inner-Journaler

In the last few weeks, I have come to accept that I have a lot of issues. I’m not entirely sure what they all are, mind you, but accepting that they’re there has been a big step for me.

One thing I came to grips with two Fridays ago was the understanding that I have been depressed and that probably I never recovered from the depression that evolved from losing my job. Probably I was depressed before that, but the depression in the three months following my job may have been among the worst episodes of my life. And to be honest, I really honestly thought I couldn’t possibly be depressed because I have a job, I can pay my bills, I have a nice apartment, I enjoy my art class, I have friends online if not locally…so really what is there to be depressed about?

Admittedly, I’ve been through quite a bit of changes and trauma in the last year. I keep trying to imagine what my Christmas letter will say about those “big changes.” In the last 12 months, I lost my job suddenly right before Christmas, went through severe depression, was offered a job only to have the offer recinded a week before I was to move to Alabama, only to turn around and move to Maine, farther from anyone I knew in the world, to start a new job with new anxieties, to live in hotels while I searched for a new home, then to unpack (I still have a few boxes I need to go through), all the while trying to adjust to a new environment, new grocery stores, new rules…

It was a lot of change, which I’ve never really been good at.

And in six months I gained 20 pounds, putting me 30 pounds from goal and 20 pounds from where I started. I can’t seem to stop eating. It’s all I want to do and it’s all I think about, it seems sometimes.

Not to mention, as December 12th, the anniversary of my involuntary separation from my last job, approaches, I feel more and more anxious. I am terrified of losing this job, of being stuck in Maine with no one and no job, of being a failure again.

So, after a long talk with my new GP, we agreed to some more changes in my life. My blood pressure has gone way up again so I am now back on blood pressure medicine. I am trying to set up an appointment with a new therapist that my GP recommended who will hopefully help me work out what these issues are and help me get over some old issues. Plus, I am now on Prosac which will hopefully help me level out.

As depression and bipolar disorder runs in my family, it’s possible that this is genetic. However, I do feel like a failure that I couldn’t handle this on my own with mind over matter. My father has never understood my anxiety. When I tell him about the things that worry me, he has always just told me not to think about them, but I’ve never learned how to turn off negative thoughts. Once an idea, an anxiety, takes hold in my mind, I can’t seem to let it go. It just eats and eats at me until I feel ill, until I can’t sit still but there’s nothing I want to do to keep me busy and nothing that can divert my mind from the thought.

I also suspect that Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder runs in my family. I see it in quite a few members on my father’s side though I don’t think it’s been diagnosed. My mom first noticed it in me during the move. I had some real issues with all of the unknowns involved in the relocation. I made lots of lists. I obsessed about the phone numbers for utility companies. Really it’s hard to explain.

Too bad that OCD doesn’t filter into my cleaning habits. I don’t think I’d want to be Felix Unger-neat but I’d like to embrace my inner neat-freak a little.

And even that could be the depression, the lack of desire to do anything productive. I’ve spent way too much time parked on my sofa or in bed watching television when I wish I’d been cleaning or exercising, because really once you get started and get it done, it’s much easier to maintain than to have to do it all again in a month due to laziness. I still believe that if I could get the apartment clean just once, I could keep it clean. And I know it’s never going to be perfectly neat like a museum, but neat enough that I don’t feel embarrassed to let the cats see it would be nice. :p

Anyway, my mother thought that I was doing better when I posted regularly to my journals. She thought that having an outlet and peers helped my weightloss willpower and also my outlook on life. So, after dragging my feet for a week and a half, here’s me…trying to get back in touch with my inner-journaler.

I’d appologize for any insanity to follow, but I suspect that’s why people come to read here.

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One comment

1. on December 2, 2004 at 4:36 pm

   Jennx said:

   did you finish your novel?

   I can’t believe how reading your one paragraph about cleaning, etc. , but watching TV instead rings true with me. It gets me down too. I should be walking the dogs, not growing sprouts as a couch potato. But I can’t stop, when I’m not at work, I want to lay on the couch and veg out. The colder weather is not helping my motivation. Thanx for sharin’, and I’m psyched to see the journaler back in the saddle.

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