Eight days
Of course I knew they would return, but that only made it marginally easier when they did.
For eight days, the monsters stayed away, at a safe distance, not bothering me. It was a nice relief, sure, but it also made me wonder. What happened in my brain last week on Monday afternoon that caused me to stop feeling overwhelmed so often? What happened in there that gave me back some control of my emotional response to the world? For eight days I had no crying fits, in stark contrast to the days and weeks prior to last Monday.
The question yesterday was, what happened in my brain to bring back the feeling of being overwhelmed? What was it that again brought about the tears? Well, I know what brought the tears back. I’ll get to that. I guess the question is really, what is it that let the raw emotions out yesterday? There are times when I could get through each of these situations with aplomb, doing what I need to do and not falling apart into an emotional mess – like the past eight days. Then there are times when any one of these would threaten to bring me down, and when all of them together render me overwhelmed and utterly helpless. Is there a switch in my brain? Some neural connection that fires for a while, then stops?
I don’t know the answer. I do know that yesterday the switch was flipped, the connection was severed, and the monsters are back.
Yesterday:
I read a heartwrenching account from a beautiful soul, about how their world fell to pieces over the course of a few months. This person, a familiar one in the blogosphere, has confided in me frequently over the months. The night before last – or well into the following morning actually – this person gave me the rundown of the days when their life was progressing beautifully and the world would soon be their oyster. The story took a turn for the worst, and I learned how everything came crashing down around them, leaving them and their life a mere shadow of what they and it were before. I’m not only unable to change their past for them (obviously), but am feeling unable to offer any words of comfort or wisdom for them. Being that we don’t live within 600 miles of each other, I’m also unable to physically be there for them, with a real shoulder to cry on. Their story is sad – so sad – and I can’t help make it better. Of course they’re not really asking for anything from me when it comes down to it, but still. Days like yesterday, reason and logic take a back seat, and I seem to work purely from emotion. In this case, the emotion was sadness.
I was unable to do anything useful or helpful or compassionate or loving for a little girl who needed all of that. My younger daughter, she of the newly installed expander in her mouth – in anticipation of braces at some later date – has been unable to eat anything of any substance since early Monday. Her mouth hurts, her teeth hurt, her tongue hurts from constantly rubbing up against this expander thingamabob, and her belly hurts from lack of food. Her hair probably hurts too. Yesterday afternoon after school, it was all too much for her and she could barely do her schoolwork. Did I offer any helpful or comforting words? Did I make any real attempt to actually help her with the math problems that were stumping her? No, and no. I simply got frustrated by her lack of answering me when I asked her what was keeping her from her work and walked away. She cried some more, took her books and papers up to her room, and probably cried herself to sleep under her bedcovers.
I had verified something I’ve known all along, at least intellectually. Specifically, that my monsters affect those closest to me about as much as they affect me. My older daughter visited her therapist Monday. At one point in the conversation, her therapist – familiar with all of us in the family and aware of my issues, which she freely refers to as depression – mentioned how Daddy was having a hard time “getting rid of the grumpies”, and asked her how that made her feel. She, according to The Wife, broke down in sobs and could only mutter something like, “I love him so much.” Oy. If I didn’t have reason to seek out help for myself before, that would certainly do it. Even still, having waited so long to seek help, I deprived my daughters of a full dad for ten and twelve years, not to mention depriving The Wife of a full husband for longer still. That is frustrating as can be, because I can’t go back in time and make it right. Those years are never coming back. Even if I magically become well and able to fully be a dad within weeks of now – a ludicrously scoffable thought – I’ll still have lost those first twelve years of my daughters’ lives.
So there I was, in the midst of it all again, after eight days of relatively bright, monster-free days. Today, they seem to have retreated back to their summer homes again, but who knows how long they’ll stay there? I don’t. I suppose, now that I think about it, that’s one of the things that my imminent visits with doctors/therapists/psychologists will address. Well, not how long the monsters will stay away, but what I can do when I see them coming. And I do see them coming now. Yesterday morning, I could feel it was going to be a rough day. Some would say that one’s attitude determines this kind of thing, and I agree to some extent. But if it were that easy, I’d be doing it. I’d be able to tell myself that the day ahead is going to be great, and it would be. At this point, though, that’s another thing the switch controls.
I sure wish I could find that switch.
This entry was posted on February 6, 2013 by Sid Dunnebacke. It was filed under Gloomy and was tagged with children, crying, daughters, depression, effect on family, family, sadness, tears, The Wife.
You know, some people never realize they were absent. Some people never go get help. Some people don’t have others that cry for them. Some children never get a dad at all or have a dad that cares enough to get help. Sometimes friends have terrible things happen that they don’t realize might be a blessing. Remember all the days where nothing terrible happens because they far outnumber the bad. The crocus will be popping out soon chasing the snow clouds away. Moods can change as much as season do, and they do. It will get better, but you already know that. Keep working on it. My coping skill has always been to find at least two good things when I have to deal with something bad. Yes, this depression is chemical, environmental, genetic and all kinds of things but it is also something that needs to be put in a choke hold sometimes. You will get through with therapist, meds, reprogram your thoughts, breathing and having something to look forward to, always. There is another season coming. It will get better.
February 6, 2013 at 11:28 pm
What she said!
February 7, 2013 at 2:21 am
Abbie… you are awesome, and as smart as you are funny. Thank you for all of that, and for putting up with the whining.
February 8, 2013 at 4:41 pm
I bet your daughters wouldn’t love you so much if you hadn’t been a good father for these past 12 years. And I bet the same goes for your wife.
You are only human. There are thing you can’t control. And the ones you can, soon you’ll be learning the tools to do so. The important thing is that you are doing NOW what you need to do to get better.
Remember NOBODY chooses to be ill. It is not your fault and you have always done your best. That’s what matters
February 7, 2013 at 2:25 am
You’re right. I know you’re right. And yet, this is HARD. Thank you for all the encouragement, SSG. I owe you one. Or twelve.
February 8, 2013 at 4:43 pm
Yes, it is hard. It’s like we human beings are hardwired to look down on ourselves or something. I don’t know. It’s very stupid when you think about it, how hard we’re on ourselves always.
I – too, have felt at times that I’m not good enough a mother because of my mental illness.
We just have to trust our friends, I guess
February 9, 2013 at 12:34 pm
I have a feeling that, even on your most “monstrous” days, you are a wonderful husband and father. When you write about your family, it is with gentleness, love, and so much admiration; one can’t help but pick up on it
. There is no doubt in my mind that your family feels your love for them, deeply, and the very fact that you are seeking help speaks volumes to that. I would bet, wholeheartedly, that none of them feel you’ve been absent those 12 years, or been a lesser father/husband figure in their lives. You are making a courageous and loving move, for yourself and your family, by seeking help. You are a beautiful soul, my friend, and your family is so very blessed to have you (trust me, they know it).
Sending positive thoughts and prayers your way!
February 7, 2013 at 4:21 am
Those are beautiful words, Groovy! I wish I had that ability but I am glad you do.
February 7, 2013 at 11:41 am
Thank you, Louis, how kind of you to say
February 7, 2013 at 5:50 pm
Groovy, I just don’t know what to say. Part of me thanks you for the beautiful encouraging words, and part of me thinks you’re nuts (the self-doubting part, anyway). Either way, I think I’ll come back to your comment often on the dark days!
February 8, 2013 at 4:48 pm
Sid, I have no idea how I did that!
I only wanted to post the title of the book, not its image.
If you can, remove it, okay? It takes up too much space.
Anyway, computers have a mind of their own these days!
February 7, 2013 at 4:59 am
Okay, so Paula – I read your other comment, and because you’ve asked I won’t re-approve it. Of course you’re right about it all, and I know that, but it doesn’t make it easier to change my default thought processes. I’m taking your wise thoughts to heart, though, and using them as much as I can. Thank you for your trans-Atlantic kindness.
February 8, 2013 at 4:53 pm
Your post brought tears to my eyes, Sid. As you saw with my latest, we ALL make mistakes with our children, so I won’t beat myself up if you promise to do the same. I believe that in situations like yours, call it depression, the blues, whatever, it’s a chemical imbalance triggered by something the the medical community has yet to define. But they will. Until then, you’re doing all that you can to figure out your brain, and I applaud you for that. On your good days, give the girls extra hugs and explain what you don’t yet understand (i.e. the journey). On your bad days, try to defer to your wife and hole up in a room and write. My heart is with you!
February 7, 2013 at 11:16 am
Well, it wasn’t supposed to do that, Stacie.
I like your good/bad day advice – a lot – and, yes, I’ll make that promise. It won’t be easy, because, well, that’s what I do – but I have to try, right?
February 8, 2013 at 4:57 pm
Hang in there, Sid. I understand that feeling of emptiness and I am pulling for ya that the doctor can help. One surely helped me – A LOT! Your bravery in making these issues public is amazing, Sid and you ARE PROBABLY helping others without knowing it! Keep on keeping on, my friend!
February 7, 2013 at 11:31 am
Well, I don’t know how brave I am – and for sure there are loads of others writing much more eloquently about this kind of thing than I do. Keeping on, Louis!
February 8, 2013 at 4:58 pm
Sid, Groovy said everything so eloquently! All of us are witness to the way you speak of family – we feel the love and caring, the gentleness of your soul.
There seems to be no good reason for many of us to struggle with depression, or any type of mental illness, but in looking deeper, there is a silver lining. What I see happening here with your friends, and with your family, is an awareness and compassion towards mindfulness. So many struggles in the world gain attention by making people aware of the situation or conditions. The result is an outpouring of understanding, compassion and love. A mindfulness of the masses, not to treat others differently, but to bring about an awakening… perhaps to change. There are many facets to depression, but if we look at the root of the problem, gain understanding to what is behind it, we can be mindful of help or change that can come about.
I also consider that there may not be an actual “cure” for depression. For me, it is a part of my journey, to have understanding, being “different”. Louis makes a good point… talking about the illness helps others who struggle. Every person who has responded to this post so far, has some kind of struggle… has come forth. Realizing you are not alone is perhaps the most awesome gift! And I believe, by sharing your thoughts and struggles with your wife and girls, you are helping them as well. You are helping to create mindfulness in your girls… to be caring and sensitive young ladies.
February 8, 2013 at 11:11 am
Beautifully said, L.sundog! Sid has my admiration for speaking out because (a) it’s good therapy and (b) he is helping to reduce the stigma that still exists around mental illness and (c) we all know how Sid speaks of his family NEVER using any negativity only the positive. That is enough to convince me that he is a good dad and a wonderful, thoughtful husband. As far as curing, I also do not think there is a cure but it can be controlled – at least my symptoms are controlled. I believe strongly in the biological view of mental health – meaning serotonin and all those other little hormones and such get out of whack and they can be “corrected” by medication. For two years (around 1980) I became housebound with depression and, even worse, with PANIC ATTACKS that seemed to come out of nowhere. I have a scientifically ordered mind, thus I sought out a doctor that views mental illness as like any other ailment, meaning it is caused by biology, and I have been very happy since.
February 8, 2013 at 1:55 pm
Oh, Lori. For sure, there’s no good reason for those people I know here to suffer from depression, et al – those that have been open to me about it are among the most lovely people I know, and they (you) deserve better.
Among all the things you’re spot on right about, what has been a real blessing to me is that idea of being surrounded by friends who listen to my whining and offer support and encouragement ten times over. Thank you for all of that, that you give me – thank you.
February 8, 2013 at 5:16 pm
I have three words for you: IT’S NOT WHINING!
So, there!
February 9, 2013 at 1:32 pm
Sorry – what’d you say? I didn’t catch that, as you weren’t typing LOUD ENOUGH.
Actually, my real answer: okay.
February 11, 2013 at 12:31 pm
Okay is good
February 11, 2013 at 3:27 pm
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Sid, thank you for sharing that story with us. I never realized how devastating (and widespread) these issues are, until I had to go talk to someone myself last year, when all this pain inside of me just suddenly became unbearable. I have a theory that depression (or unbearable sadness as I call it) exists within all of us, just some people can get a handle on it and bury it deep inside, while others cannot. Those of us that cannot tend to be even better in the end, as that’s when you end up seeking help. I do hope it gets better for you and your monsters relocate to another country (or preferably planet). I think you could be a little less hard on yourself too – this is about as human as it gets…
February 20, 2013 at 10:26 pm
I remember your very touching post, and unsuccessfully hoping that you weren’t experiencing something first-hand to bring out all the questions. Knowing that you were, I can only now wish for brighter days for you. And hope that whatever pain you’re going through leaves for that same country/planet as my monsters, or at least becomes something you can regain control of. And mention that the offer still stands. All the best, Yulia.
February 22, 2013 at 6:04 pm