No pain, no gain

Yesterday was way, way too hot for September, especially since we don't have air conditioning. Normally that wouldn't be terribly troublesome during the day because it's air conditioned at work, but yesterday I was stuck in bed because my back was tired up in knots. I had this random burst of energy on Monday and went on a wild cleaning spree in the attic, which involved moving several boxes of books up and down stairs and being hunched over for several hours at a time. I woke up on Tuesday and tried to get out of bed; I got as far as sitting up and wound up spending 20 minutes stretching just to be able to stand up. I realized I was exhausted also, because I had written up several times from being sore and stiff. Even after I made it downstairs and downed my requisite cups of coffee my back was a tangled mess so I called off work. Standing for 8 hours doing makeovers would do me no good, so after I called off I hobbled back to bed and stared at the ceiling in frustration until I fell asleep.I was mad because I still had all that energy left over, but my body was not cooperating. And it was hot. So that's how lupus ruined my day, yet again.

Temper tantrum

August 10th So a few weeks ago I threw a temper tantrum over the phone to my doctor's office. Besides the fact that I've not done much to deter my lupus (because I don't actually know how to deal with lupus much yet), my doctor had forgotten to renew my antidepressants, which I've been on unceasingly for nearly five years. At that point I'd become a bit hysterical, and the fact that I'd been unable to get an appointment with any kind of rheumatologist/ lupus specialist until September. I was exhausted, achy, grumpy, panicky, and generally out of sorts, and very frustrated. The doctor's assistants were getting frustrated after my third cranky phone call, and finally I talked to the doctor, who prescribed a steroid and some other stuff. The steroid made me jumpy and insatiably hungry, but they were only five days' worth, and I didn't want to get fat and hairy and to turn into Arnold Schwarzenegger. The other ones don't do anything. And I've managed to find a much earlier doctor appointment, so hopefully it helps. In the meanwhile, I've been trying less pharmaceutical methods to get my issues under control. Because lupus is an inflammatory disease, I've been focusing on eating an anti-inflammatory diet, which has mostly tons of veggies, gluten free grains, and only un-processed meats in moderation. I've also been working on adding probiotic yogurt to my diet through a drink called kefir, and eating lots of berries. Basically, it's just a really healthy diet. I'm not sure if it's making a huge difference, but when I abandon my veggies and eat a bunch of bread or fatty stuff I feel exhausted and generally crappy. So maybe the diet is helping.

Now I get it

On Friday July 12th I finally learned why I really have depression. I assumed it and my fatigue were from my generic predisposition for anxiety and chronic depression, but after a bunch of tests it turns out that all that is coming from lupus. Yep. Lupus. What is it? Well, first of all it's not an std and it's not AIDS or cancer or anything awful like that. It is, however, an autoimmune disease which causes the immune system to attack the healthy tissue of the body, not just the bad stuff that actually tries to make you sick. It's like my immune system is having paranoid delusions. Which causes inflamation, causing pain, stiffness, headaches, fatigue (crazy exhausted run-over-by-a-semi fatigue), and even weird stuff like forgetfulness, foggy-headedness, loss of concentration, and sometimes being unable to even express yourself verbally. Apparently my brain is inflamed. No wonder I'm so confused and frustrated all the time. I had called the doctor to check on my lab results (I knew she had been testing my blood to see if lupus could be a possibility), since I hadn't heard back in 3 weeks. My doctor returned my call in the middle of my work day and said that yeah, I have lupus. I thought I had gotten over any shock of having a weird disease when she told me she was testing for it and it sounded like I might have it, but hearing her say the test had come back positive really shook me up. I held it together on the phone, but when I hung up I lost it, dribbling tears all over the cash register and watering a contract out of my eye. My manager was so supportive that she gave me the option of going home early that day to absorb the info, and my bgbf (best gay boyfriend) at work started crying too. I went home and started doing lots of research, like reading about causes (turns out that's still a mystery), coping methods, and suggested dietary restrictions and supplements. Most of all, I just let myself sleep. That's the biggest change this knowledge has had on me. I've given myself permission to rest because I know I'm not just being lazy, it's my body trying to deal with this disease. I recognize that sometimes I'm exhausted and run down and being frustrated with myself for it only increases stress, which is a major trigger of lupus flares. It's how my body is and realizing that I can't be mad at myself for it has given me immense relief and peace.

Making life suck less

Where shall I begin? As I've mentioned, I don't want this blog to focus on how to figure out whether or not you have depression, when to get help, what to take, etc. I want to chronicle my journey of living and (hopefully) prospering despite having depression and struggling with it even after the pills have worked their magic. I remember when I first was diagnosed with depression as a senior in college. It had taken me years to even decide I needed to see a shrink, and the first time I saw a campus psychologist she was terribly mousey and made me feel like a lab experiment that was on the verge of writing at any moment. I never went back to her. Then I found out there was another counselor, so I gave him a shot. He had Pink Floyd music playing in the background, and kind of reminded me of my dad. Most importantly, he didn't make me feel crazy. So I kept talking to him, and, after he and I agreed that I was a text book example of depression, I started on the pills, which, after many long, frustrating months, finally lifted the big black cloud under which I had been drowning. Of course, the pills don't fix everything, and I still struggle with my little gray thunder cloud (no longer big, black, and ominous) on a daily basis. I'm usually not as happy as everyone around me, not as warm around other people, not as rational as most adults, and significantly less concerned with what I'm "supposed" to be doing. All that can get me in trouble sometimes, but that's just part of the struggle I've gotten used to by living with depression. My biggest goal on a daily basis to help me feel more "normal" (whatever that is) is to find a way to be happy every day, even if only for a short while. So part of this blog will be me making a list of things that make me happy. I actually got the idea of making such a list from a book on how to write a novel, which was a gift from my boyfriend for my birthday. The book said that in a Woody Allen movie the character's shrink suggests he make a list of 100 reasons not to die/ 100 things that make life with living. It ties into research that has shown (both clinically and in my own experience, that gratitude is a major key to living happily. This also ties into my faith in God, by remembering all the things I have to thank Him for. Which also reminds me that I should stop being selfish and thinking of myself all the time. 100 things that make life worth living: part 1 1. God To be continued...

I have depression. Took me 22 years too realize it, but now, after four years of being pretty heavily (legally) medicated, I mostly can live a normal life. It seems like every time I tell someone that I have depression they assume I'm just being dramatic and making excuses for not wanting to do things. Or they think I'm trying to get sympathy or attention. I've just assumed I'm the odd one and stopped talking about it. A few weeks ago, however, I saw the movie, "Silver Linings Playbook,"and I realized from its high ratings and v popularity, I must not be the only one out there who's a little screwy upstairs. But this isn't about dealing with depression, how and when to seek help, why you shouldn't commit suicide, and all that. This is about what happens when you realize, after you're on your meds, talked shrinks' ears of, etc, this is as good as it gets. How do I deal with the conclusion that this is how I will live my life with depression. I've controlled it as much as the beast of depression can be controlled, and now I have to live with it. Some days it doesn't work. My meds are down the hatch for the day, but I still can barely get out of bed. My body feels like a ton of bricks and my head feels full of smoke. Some days I wake up in a great, cheerful, rambunctious mid and I feel fantastic, and then I get half way through my day and I feel like I've fallen into a pit. Sometimes writing helps, since it's one of my favorite passions, but then again depression is often known to cause a loss of interest in everything you once loved. Sometimes working out helps, but when your body feels like a ton of bricks it's easier said than done. I don't intend for this to be a place for me to whine and complain about how bad my life is, because it's not that bad. I simply hope to chronicle my own struggles with depression and hopefully inspire others to overcome theirs.