Recently in Depression Category

Some in my life say I'm strong.

Some in my life say I'm weak.

The signs are that I'm much more able to keep myself safe, that I pay attention on the inside, that I try to communicate, that I am making an effort to understand some of the darker parts of myself, and on and on. Those are strengths. That is the healing mission I've been on for the past year.

But the healing comes at a cost. The cost is what I alluded to when I told the people in the hospital that I thought I suffered depression because I couldn't get my home life on track. At home, I am somewhat ineffectual. I am clearly not consistent. I am in bed a lot. I am unable to carry out my duties in any regular way. I cannot follow through on vacation plans, thereby upsetting most of the family. I let people down. At work, I'm not nearly half as good as I used to be. I don't go that often. When I do, it's carefully controlled.

The cost looks like weakness.

And I am left asking "What is the measure of a man?"

In the hospital, I learned that I am where I am right now, going through what I'm going through, and doing the best I can. Period. Healing is not pretty. In fact it's quite messy.

I can pine away for those days when I was super functional Dad and husband and worker, but to do that I would have to neglect considering all the self-harm that was going on to make that possible.

I am trying to remake myself so that I can set myself up for the rest of my life. I know I cannot live the way I have lived. That way has no future.

But the question is how to make my life more functional? Maybe the way things are right now is something I have to accept as part of healing. Maybe I have to accept that the reworking I am doing inside is hard and is not bearing fruit in the ways I would like right now. I cannot do everything at once.

In the future, I hope it does more. But, realistically, what can I expect? I honestly don't know.

And now for some context. For several months, we had a 1-week vacation planned at a small zero amenities cabin in the middle of a forest, 7.5 hours away. All I knew was that it had 4 cots. I had planned this. It was to begin tomorrow. Only a couple days ago did I realize that, as planned, this was not something I was able to do because it didn't feel safe. I proposed an alternate plan, to a place closer to home that I was familiar with, for a shorter period of time, and to a more furnished cabin (with it's own shower and bathroom and pillows and bedding). I felt like that was doable for me. The alternate plan didn't go over so well with 1/2 of the family. But, unlike the past, I am standing by my decision of personal safety over family happiness. In the distant past, I would be able to follow through on the original plans without any problem and perhaps pay the price somewhere down the road. In the more recent past, I would have to struggle through miserably. Where I am right now, with being in touch with what's going on inside, I cannot do either to myself. So, I look like I'm being selfish and weak to some. But I've made a compromise. I'm still giving them the vacation, it's just configured differently. On the inside, it's about protection. And if that's considered selfish, then so be it.

I finally understood that I have depression. The first tip off was that when I was admitted to the hospital on Friday, I happened to notice the intake sheet that the doctor was writing on. The alphabet soup jumped out at me: PTSD, DID, MDD. I knew the first two, but filed away the last one. A few minutes later, "major depressive disorder" came to mind and I thought that they were perhaps just pulling out old diagnoses from old charts. Well, sure, they were doing that. But it actually turns out to be valid.

I've now confronted a problem. My wife has been telling me for a while now that I really haven't been there for the family in the ways she would like. Since she hasn't said that in the most tactful way, I've kind of been in defense mode about it. I'm not sure if it was a change in her tone yesterday or just the reality setting in, but I've suddenly realized she has some very valid points.

I quickly considered depression a couple months ago. The warmer weather was here in New England and I didn't seem motivated in the things I was motivated by last year, mainly having to do with my landscaping efforts. This extended to other areas of family life. Yet I was able to have periods of full interest. These are my "rallies". One could say these were like mood swings, and through some lens they probably are.

I now think this is depression masked by dissociative coping strategies. Certain areas of my life, dominated by certain parts of my self, are very rich and active. Certain other areas of my life aren't so lively. My initial thought was that this wasn't the same depression I had several years ago. It wasn't that all encompassing heavy depression that permeates every aspect of one's life. I brought this up with my psychiatrist, wondering if this needed to be treated. But he, too, brought up the fact that, according to my reports, this wasn't an overpowering depression.

But, I am different now than I was a few years ago. A few years ago, even though I knew I had parts, all of me was more or less lumped together. Now, I can imagine the thought of parts of me not being depressed and parts of me being depressed.

So, as I enter the second day of being inpatient, this is what I learned. On Monday I will ask the treatment team about all of this and have them consult with my psychiatrist. Unless someone gives me a reason otherwise, I'm planning on asking to start an antidepressant.

I'm not sure how much I'll post about the current hospitalization. Given how I need to focus on myself, I may not post much since this site is not really about my day-to-day experiences as it is about the broader picture of trauma and dissociation. It's very hard being here. There's a great deal of activation of parts and I'm working very hard at staying grounded and present. But I'm okay. Every hospitalization is so completely different and I learn so much about myself from each. So, while it's immensely difficult, I'm looking forward to, in the words of my therapist, "having an authentic experience".