Just Keep Going

I don’t know what I want to say right now, so I’ll just let these pudgy digits start flying and we’ll see what comes out. 

I’ve been super depressed for the last couple of months (seven years really) and just constantly fatigued and in quite a bit of inflammatory pain all over my body. So, I’ve been feeling super shitty, but I’ve been making huge efforts to show up when I need to in order to be a good husband, father, child, sibling, friend, etc. I’ve tried to make it to as many family gatherings as I possibly can and to be engaged and encouraging to my kids. The holidays are brutal for people with mental illnesses and disabilities in general. Every party, feast, and picture fest is torture and requires a monumental effort to get me there. I have such low energy that I have to start thinking about how I’m going to save some up now to allocate to some kind of event or obligation in the future. Days or even weeks before a draining event arrives, I start to feel anxious and pained just wondering if I’ll end up having the energy and strength to get there or if I’ll have to cancel on my family or friend. 

If you’ve had a long-term disability, then you are probably very familiar with this pattern that I’m describing. I’ve canceled on people last minute hundreds of times over the years and each one feels like abject failure. The disappointment is massive, I think in part because you’ve been preparing mentally for this event for so long and wanted so badly to make it. I’ve gotten to the point that I say no to pretty much everything except the most important things. I don’t feel guilty about this, it is out of absolute necessity and I recommend that people in similar situations to mine learn to say no. 

But the build-up and the event itself aren’t even the worst part. The worst part is that I pay a massive price for most of my efforts. Activities that are even remotely stressful take a huge toll on my mind and body. I come home (never a minute too soon) and just crash. After almost any mentally or physically demanding event I will feel severe fatigue, depression, inflammation, and pain. When I wake up the next morning, I usually feel like I’ve been run over by a fucking garbage truck! Depending on how stressful the event is, it will cause this hung over and beat up feeling for anywhere from two days to a week. 

So, I did this for Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, then in January my wife left town for four days and then in a seven-day period we had my son’s birthday, my wife’s birthday, and then our 10^th wedding anniversary. Not to mention many, many, smaller activities in between the big events. And then there’s the stresses of everyday life with severe depression and anxiety. On top of that a close family member is battling cancer. Like a freaking champ I might add. We all love her so much and it is so difficult to see her suffer so much. (The paradoxical thing about that is that while it’s agonizing to watch her suffer, I think it is the most inspiring display of love and courage that I have ever seen.) You add in the cumulative effect of all the stress and suffering of the last seven years and you get this fat, battered corpse that I inhabit. I feel like I’ve just gone 12 rounds with Mike Tyson. It’s truly a grim and brutal picture, and yet it’s all invisible. I suffer in silence and I only cry in the dark. 

In spite of feeling generally awful every day, I’m trying to get into shape. I committed to go on a five- or six-day backpacking trip in July and I need to lose about 50 lbs. to make that happen. So, I’m trying to work up the energy and motivation to be healthy and active while basically stumbling around in a half-dead stupor. At least that’s how it feels. Then this morning I awoke from a nightmare about my wife leaving me and, in the dream, she was hateful and mean. (This nightmare doesn’t reflect reality at all by the way, my wife loves me so good I can barely stand it.) It was like my own subconscious was just dishing out the punishment and the torment that I feel like I’ve always deserved. It put me in a serious, dark funk. But I didn’t take it lying down. I smoked a bowl of the marijuana and took an aroma/music therapy bath. I got deep into the music, I cried and then I gave myself the pep talk that I needed to push on through another day. 

I know that millions of people out there can relate to this and that gives me a bit of comfort. I'd like to take a moment to feel proud and happy about the efforts I've made, I know that would be emotionally healthy, but I don't feel it. Hey, I’m still alive right? Might as well take life by the nuts and the bull by the horns and just give ‘em hell. I don’t have anything better to do. I guess I’ll just keep going.