Posted by bozeman on February 14, 2003, at 23:22:06
In reply to Re: Yes, that is a great metaphor. Thanks!, posted by noa on February 10, 2003, at 17:36:08
noa --
Wow, that is so true. I also use the "pseudo" disclaimer to describe it (and other factions of my problem) because they are so like, yet not like, what I see in others who are so clearly suffering worse than I. (maybe I don't feel justified since I'm not suffering enough . . . hmmm . . . will have to ponder that one for a while.)
What I have come to wonder is, how is it possible to so feel so strongly and completely one way that it's non-negotiable, then later examine my feelings and actions at the time and wonder what the heck I was smoking (metaphor) that I would have thought that??? I am infamous among my closest friends for buying something, trying it on, discarding it in disgust as not right, bad color, poorly made, makes me look fat, you name it. Two weeks, two months, or two years later, I pick it up, try it on, and say, Hey, look at this! How cool is this?! They just roll their eyes at me and call me a goofy blonde. There is no way for me to explain to them that, at the time, I truly *hated* the thing and never wanted to see it again. But it was obviously a "mood", and an artificial one, no less, because I never go back to hating the object later. So I wonder, how does that "mood" define me? And if it does, as what? Goofy blonde? Neurotic and indecisive? Neither really fits -- once I make up my mind that I like something, I like it forever. I was just "victimized" (for lack of a better word -- maybe "attacked" is more accurate?) by a hideously negative mood. And a selective one, at that, directed at only one thing (and it's almost always a thing, very rarely a person. Very occasionally it happens with a person, but at least I've learned that those pass if I just keep my mouth SHUT and don't say anything I can't take back.) Very puzzling and confusing about what causes those "stealth attack moods", or where they come from.
Several of my friends (and a lot of my coworkers) thought I was a complete airhead for the first several months they knew me because for most of my life I was completely incapable of having a single conversation at once. I could have three or four conversations simultaneously, but could not stay on one topic for anything -- too SLOW! (which gives many people a headache, and understandably so.) It took them a while to figure out that I was just running so fast on several tracks that I couldn't slow down enough to keep up with their natural thought speed for more than a few seconds. I know, it might sound like mania but it's really not, it's more a weird personalized variant of attention deficit disorder, which is why it took so long for me to be diagnosed with ADD. I was always this way, I was just good at hiding it, made good grades because my mind worked so fast that the track of my mind that paid attention in school had plenty of time to catch up with the teacher while the other three or four tracks were diverging. People say, you couldn't possibly have ADD, you don't take medication for it, your life is too normal, you pay your bills and show up for work every day. They have no CLUE how abnormal my life is, why I will NEVER let anyone from my "normal" i.e. work life, come over to my house, because then the illusion of normal would be shattered forever. I am a complete slave to routine and habit, and out of sight is literally out of mind. If the bills aren't laying in plain sight, I DON'T remember to pay them. If my briefcase is not sitting right next to the bed, I don't REMEMBER that I have to chop-chop, get to work! I can't tell you how many times I have bought the same identical item because I can't remember I own it unless I'm looking right at it (shoes, music CD's, books, etc.) So everything has to be in plain sight or it doesn't exist. Every single thing in my closet must be visible or I will forget I own it, will never wear it, that's how I can end up with fourteen french blue blouses if I'm not careful. I just know I like that color and need a blouse that color. I can't remember I already bought one (or two, or three, or four, and so on. I guess I should at least be thankful that my *taste* is constant, I like the same books and clothes from day to day, even if I can't remember that I already bought them. =-) Thank GOD my roommate tolerates my adaptive eccentricities. :-)
So my home life is terribly dysfunctional, but relying on habits keeps me looking normal to the rest of the world, most days at least. And the other days, they just think I'm weird, or a prima donna, or something, they never guess the truth, that I'm an anxiety-prone obsessive somewhat compulsive helplessly depressive chick in a lot of residual physical pain (also distracting) with ADD, who just happens to be (blessing or curse? some days it's both, I suppose) a nurturing, empathic soul who worries about the pain of everyone around close to her. Example, my day today: worked ten hours, during which I stuck my neck out to defend a little-liked and much-maligned co-worker, who brings on his own problems for the most part, but in this case was in fact being abused and unfairly maligned; spur-of-the-moment pitched an idea for a new-but-much-needed project to our VP, which I'm sure will end up delegated to me since it was my idea - oh joy! ; sat and worried and prayed several hours at the kitty hospital while my extremely sick buddy-boy had expensive and dangerous surgery (yes, I know my pets are surrogate children :-); went to the store over lunch because I knew I'd have too much to do this evening to be able to go; stayed late at the office nearly two hours to handle a last-minute customer service problem so the rest of the crew could go home to their spouses and valentine plans; then went and visited a girlfriend who just had surgery, took her magazines, books, movies, ice cream, and soup, held her hand, dished out her meds, sat with her until she was tired, then helped her to bed; stopped by to see and give a valentine to my cranky but wonderful boyfriend who *hates* Valentine's day; came home and made soup for my heaven-sent roommate, who has been in bed with the flu off and on all week, gave her a valentine and some expensive dermatologist hand cream - that I actually remembered to pick up at lunch today (!) - for her refractory eczema; read posting boards on PB, PsychB, et al and my heart just ached at how much pain and suffering I see this week, don't know why this week is so bad but it seems worse than others lately. I think that just about covers today.
Yes, I know I do too much!!! But I don't know how not to. That is absolutely the most painful part of depression for me -- it keeps me locked inside my own head so I can't transmute/sublimate any of this over-abundant mental-emotional-psychic energy into anything productive, so I "fry" inside my own head. And under those circumstances, the inside of my head becomes a very dark, dark place. But, once again, I don't feel like that darkness is "mine" -- it's a result of compression, not being able to achieve release of any of that overly-ambitious ADD energy. So it eats me from within when I can't leave the house, or can't speak to anyone if I do. I *need* to talk to people so I have something to focus on besides myself and my thoughts/desires etc. I need to not be centered in my own world. Depression traps me there. That's why I kick myself for not taking the SSRI's sooner. I might have never gotten so bad. Might never have found out how deep/dark those stealth attack moods go. Would have been more comfortable not knowing. Probably not better, but I would have felt safer. Now it's something I feel I have to be vigilant against for the rest of my life (there's another mood defining me, instead of me defining the mood. Crap!!)
My week's been stressful and in some ways very disappointing, but not nearly to the level of the hearbreak and pain I see in others' posts this week. I feel very, very lucky. Some weeks it is me hurting to that level, but not this time. I feel so much for those who are hurting. But sometimes, what can you say? It feels so inadequate at times to say, "I know what you're going through, hang on, it gets better," to someone who is in so much pain. Even if it's true, there ought to be a better way to show support for them.
Thanks for listening to my rant.
bozeman
poster:bozeman
thread:2464
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/psycho/20030203/msgs/200570.html