Depression

Depression is a insidious disorder. Often you don’t know how bad it really is until something triggers such a reaction that you say “oh dear heavens, I want to die”. Depression and thoughts of death go hand in hand. Not always, but chances are if you’re thinking of your own death, you’ve been suffering from depression. That’s my experience anyway.

Insidious because often it’s just a cascade of things dragging you down until the feeling of drowning is overwhelming. Maybe it is your job, money, family, friends, school, health or something else that drops you down into the Blue Meanies. I’ve always called my depression the Blue Meanies, probably because of my love for Yellow Submarine by the Beatles. In the movie, the Blue Meanies are trying to destroy all music and color in their world, turning it grey, dull and hopeless. I have that feeling quite a lot, ergo the Blue Meanies have invaded my spirit. I often don’t see them coming until they have a pretty strong hold over my spirit and I’ve become quiet, less animated, more prone to dark thoughts. (see https://www.musicmusingsandsuch.com/musicmusingsandsuch/2018/7/17/feature-blue-meanies-and-the-liberation-of-pepperland-celebrating-fifty-years-of-yellow-submarine)

Dark thoughts can take many forms. These are some of mine.
* Feelings of unworthiness
* The world would be better without me
* My health means I can’t work, so what do I contribute to the world?
* Who would notice if I just wasn’t here?
* I’m a burden to all around me, financially, emotionally and sometimes physically.

I write these down so people can see MY thoughts. While I think of death regularly as a friend I would welcome in, I do not have suicidal thoughts. If you do, please call 988 in the US for help. Trained crisis workers will help figure out how best to help you. Suicidal thoughts are not bad, not abnormal. They’re honest feelings that have to be allowed space to live. All feelings deserve to exist, but for some reason, feelings of death, self harm and hurting oneself is considered taboo to talk about. I’m not the person to talk about any of those, as I’ve never felt any of them in a way to truly talk about it well. But I can remind people that any and all feelings are valid.

Some of my depression is caused from my genetic disorder. Knowing you live with something that makes every day a challenge is hard. Many days I force myself to shower, because it’s the only thing I can do that day. I don’t cook anymore, I bake very rarely, but I do clean up after meals. Headaches that are so bad that focusing on anything is close to impossible, but what do you do all day if you can’t read, crochet, type etc? You choose sleep, but I can’t spend my entire life in my bedroom. Believe me, I’ve tried. So I get up, take that shower, eat, read a book on my iPad (easier to hold and I can make the font bigger), crochet, watch TV (I try not to do this until late in the day) and talk endlessly to doctors and their staff about symptoms or next steps.

Add in being a highly sensitive person, for whom the slightest raised voice or unkind word is like a wound, and you have a person who doesn’t feel like they fit in anywhere. And when someone feels like that, then depression is close by and the Blue Meanies are smothering the world to you. Fitting in isn’t exactly easy all the time. I struggle with where my place is, who AM I without being able to work. I have no children and no partner to be responsible for. Sometimes I feel “less” because I don’t have those typical things being very close to 50. And I’ll never have children, which I don’t necessarily regret, but I also wonder what I’ve missed because of it. How much did my depression play into my choices not to get married or have children? Quite a lot. I never felt that I was “good enough” for the men in my life. Or I thought that I was enough, but they weren’t. Being a HSP, I’m very good at reading people’s facial expressions, body language, etc. Which means I sometimes can feel what someone wants from me without them telling me. And that sometimes means that I’ll change myself to fit what that person wants or I think they want. It’s a conundrum, and it’s part of who I am, to try to fit what I think people want from me. And it’s a hard thing to recognize that is one of my personality traits, as I refuse to call it a flaw. It’s who I am, and I have to recognize it. I was watching Ted Lasso for the 3rd time and I thought of how Ted and Rebecca use a codeword of “Oklahoma” to say if something is true or not. To talk about their honest feelings, which is hard to do. Fo many people, I wear that mask of “it’s all ok” and very few people see the Oklahoma version, the true feelings and emotions I have. For most people, I wear a heavy mask, as if to say “I’m ok, really I am” when the truth is hard to admit because how many people actually want to hear that your day, week, month or year has been shitty and death could be preferable? VERY few people want to hear that. I don’t know how many people truly want to hear it. Even if they say it, very few actually want to know it. Because in my experience, telling the truth on how you feel only sounds like complaining and I don’t want to be someone who only complains. I would rather people think of me as someone who fights through things and rarely complains, but also rarely goes out because of pain. But that’s part of me. And I’d rather be quiet and respected for being “strong” than have people say that I only complain.

This is essentially what depression means to me. It’s hard, lonely and quiet. But as long as I talk to the Blue Meanies and welcome them and don’t pretend they aren’t there, then I can accept them and live with them and work on how to work through them. I accept them and will always have these feelings, as long as I live. I just need to know they’re there and try not to let them take over. As long as I don’t let them take over, then I can live on.

Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th’oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of dispriz’d love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th’unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovere’d country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.

Hamlet, spoken by Hamlet

While Hamlet is speaking of a more permanent death, what I’m going to write on today is a smaller kind of death that is related to that of significant change that is not always something we choose to take on. The tiny deaths that happen every time a new part of us gives out and forces us to adapt our way of life.

For me, I’ve recently been facing this with my ability to create art. While I write in my spare time, I live for my art. It’s partly how I manage having EDS and its various complications. It’s how I grieve. It’s how I process some of my psychological trauma. It’s how I distract myself when pain is constant. It’s how I show love. It’s how I survive. I do so many different types of art that I can’t keep track anymore.

And now, EDS threatens again to take it from me. I faced this before just a few years ago. The connective tissue in my hands have always been extremely hypermobile, but my left hand had suddenly developed exceptional pain in my thumb. I couldn’t knead clay. I couldn’t bead. I couldn’t even wash my hair efficiently. Thankfully, I had just started seeing a rheumatologist that was a bulldog against my insurance and got me a full set of swan necks and a thumb plate for my MCP joint that started to fully dislocate with minimal effort.

I wrote a full other post about my ring splints to talk about it before, but it was done long after the period of adaptation. I was able to type without taking breaks to cry and scream how I hated the feeling. I had already started beading with regularity at that point, rather than throwing a piece only a few rows in because I couldn’t get the needle to do what I wanted. I was writing almost with the elegance I expected of myself, not the chicken scratch that I fought to get out with the new splints. I did this intentionally because I wanted to show that it’s totally worth it! It was worth all the screaming and crying over the difficulties and discomfort.

But, now I’m facing it again. My right hand…..my dominant hand….has betrayed me. The MCP freely dislocates and is constantly in significant pain. My hand that holds the paintbrushes. The hand that writes. The hand that holds the carving tools. That hand is now unable to hold anything without shooting pain.

The hurdle at hand (mind the pun) is whether I want to put in the effort to adapt yet again. It may seem to the reader, that this is an obvious thing. If art is life, then of course I would choose to adapt! While, yes, I’ve ordered a thumb splint…I assure you that it was not an easy decision or a simple and pleasant experience to decide this. It’s the turmoil of facing such a thing that I wanted to shine a light on.

The first aspect of this is the gut punch that is yet another failure of the body caused by Ehlers-Danlos. I’m angry. I’m short tempered. I’m heartbroken. I’m grieving. Whether or not I adapt, there’s a grieving process that comes with the small death of yet another thing I’ve gotten comfortable with having in my life that will cause significant change no matter what I choose to do. It happens with everybody and every body. Most experience it with old age, but some of us experience it younger than we ever should for various reasons. This only adds to the rage and grief. Angry at people who get to experience a full life of enjoying things they love without such challenges. Angry at people that have their mobility and abilities cut short from their own obvious poor choices because it feels like they’re reckless as a toddler. Angry at people with acute and curable hurdles because they can go back to normal. All of this is a lot of anger to process. I’m grateful to my sister, and I’ll take a moment to push her books by saying you should look up Kahaula on Amazon, for all of her help during this time to keep me grounded as well as helping with a safe space to scream without judgement.

As the grieving is processing, there’s the decision of whether to adapt or to let go. To be, or not to be, if we go back to the quote I used above. Because each option carries with it emotional baggage. Neither is the right answer or the wrong answer. They just are. And this is something of a problem in the chronic illness community as well. The overwhelming battle between saying “you’re not your productivity” while pushing “but don’t give up on things you like to do” to anyone facing such a problem. It’s a bit hypocritical and I don’t think we acknowledge that quite enough.

It’s not as simple as forcing yourself to be cheerful and pushing onward. It’s evaluating your own mental health and deciding what’s best for you in the long run. Because sometimes, giving up something you love, is actually healthier than trying to force yourself into adaptations because you are pressured into not giving up. Only you can make that decision for yourself, and that’s important. This is also a great point to mention that a therapist can be an important sounding board for such things.

For example, with my art, I know the new splint isn’t going to be comfortable, no matter how skilled the splint maker is and how perfect it fits. I know it took me several months to stop shaking my hands to stim from the discomfort last time. I know I’m going to absolutely hate the process of adapting because it’s learning skills all over again. It’s not a pretty process. It’s not like the inspirational video posts you see where someone disabled just tried hard, had a few frustrated moments, but pushed past it with joy and everyone was celebrating YAY! It’s trying.

The other side of this is knowing that it’s uncertain how long any adaptations I get used to will actually last. I **JUST** got back to painting my feathers even semi-regularly. Right after I fully adapt, I’ve got to go through the cycle **AGAIN**. It’s one more thing on top of the never ending accumulating mountain of things I’ve got to manage with this damned disorder and the constant malfunctions it causes.

It would be easier to just let it go. It would be less stress on me and my slowly falling apart hand. It would be less stress on those around me as I go through the emotional turmoil of the process to adapt. It would be more certain than trying only to possibly be let down as soon as I fine tune my adaptation. After all, I’m not my productivity. I’m not less if I come to the point that I can’t do my art. I’ll be sad, and I’ll grieve, and I’ll be angry…but I’ll eventually put my energy toward something else to keep my heart and soul occupied.

Is trying to keep doing art only speeding the decline of my hands? Am I creating a path to permanent disability that’s paved with dried paint and wood shavings? Could I extend the life of my hands by giving up most of my art? And could I live with myself if that’s what I chose to do?

There isn’t a right answer, only what’s right for me. Just as when you face your own hurdles, there’s only what’s right for you. I took a long time contemplating all the angles before deciding what was in my best interest. I can’t see surviving without my art at this stage in my life. As soon as I came to be aware of that, I made arrangements to order a splint to suit my failed MCP joint. And I’ll take all the rage and spite and fury and channel it into moving forward

I’ll cry and scream and probably throw a few innocent paint brushes. I’ll judge myself much too harshly for not adapting faster and producing the quality I expect from myself. I’ll get angry at the loved ones that remind me to be kind to myself on this journey. I’ll curse the gods and the body I’m in. I’ll do this all in spite of how much I’ll try not to. I’ll mask the myriad of emotions like the ocean hides Her rip currents until the wave becomes too much and crashes over. And I will do all of this not because I want to be an inspiration for everyone to push through and adapt no matter what. I will do this for one reason, and one reason only.

Because it’s what I’ve decided was important to ME.

Not to family that wants to see me continue. Not to people who want to commission me. Not to doctors that have their opinions on both sides. Not to people I work with that think I can adapt to almost anything. Not to my partners that both know what being able to create means to me. Not for other people to utilize for their own motivational needs.

For me.

That is what I want you to get out of this. Adapting is fucking difficult. It’s not a Hallmark movie with one sad day and a perpetual cheer squad. It’s horrible and I refuse to sugar coat it. It has potential for amazing things and I know that I’ll also cry tears of joy when I’m able to paint to my own standards again. I know the pieces I create out of all that anger and spite will be incredibly emotional statements that I can look back on. For now, it’s worth all of the struggles I’ll face in order to get there. While that makes it easier…it doesn’t make it EASY…and that is a significant differentiation.

It also brings me a great comfort that when I choose to let my artistic side rest for good, that it will be on my own terms and my own choice. I’ll know that I tried, and I know that I did everything I possibly could to extend the ability of my hands by doing things like wearing protective gear and mobility splints. So when that time does come? I don’t think I’ll ever be ready, but I’ll know it’s time. I won’t be a failure because I’m not somehow pushing through to find a way, just like I wouldn’t be failing if that was my choice right now. I’ll have the same comfort then, as I do now.

That the choice I made was mine, and for me alone.

I wish all of you the strength to make all of those hard choices that EDS, or any other hurdle, forces you to face for you, and you alone. Wishing it won’t hurt is futile, so instead, I’ll just wish you find peace in it and live your best life.

When I would ask these questions, I would often get answers that circled around how forgiveness is about being the bigger person. This, to me, always seemed a way to be passively prideful and arrogant about one’s ability to be above others who “are so lowly they allow themselves to be angry”. In short, a way of victim blaming those who are angry about abuses they’ve suffered. Or how it’s about healing the self, which, if taken in my previously understood context…I didn’t understand how forgiving others had anything to do with healing myself. It always sounded like moral high ground nonsense to me. A continued way to lord over people how enlightened you are more than anything dealing with truly healing.

This concept of forgiveness, always felt dangerous to me. Like letting a wound close on the surface while ignoring what is festering beneath it. Or trying to accept that deep cuts are just something that should be as serious as a papercut. Gently wash and let it close. It’ll all be fiiiiiiiiine. Even the very concept talking to an abuse victim about forgiveness felt blasphemous.

I have suffered a very deep betrayal recently, that I don’t feel a need to discuss in detail, simply to illustrate why this topic has come up in depth recently. And someone I care for, had suggested that I work on the forgiveness of this person, to be able to honestly wish the best for them. And I struggled very much with this. Because I can’t. Nor do I want to. I have no desire to wish them well or happiness or anything of the like. Was I a bad person? Was this something I needed to work on?

It was this specific that I brought to my therapist, that I went back to seeing because of this particular trauma. While I had my own strongly held beliefs on it (which I will go into), I was going to her to help heal myself. If I brought this to her, and she could explain this to me in a way I could maybe finally understand, I was absolutely willing to put the work into changing my world view.

To start, she told me a story about a woman who’s son was shot and killed by another teenager. The woman, visited this boy in prison, chose to buy him things he needed, and care for him. Even invited him to live with her when his time was up. He asked her why she did these things, for the guy that took her son from her. Her response was about enough hate and pain being in the world, she wanted to bring healing to someone that actually needed it.

As I sat there listening, I was torn between two feelings. One, was that the ability for someone to make a change from a grave mistake and to be seen as a person was a beautiful gift. The other, was this kind of thing was exactly the kind of thing I had a problem with, expecting other victims to do this kind of thing. In the spirit of being honest in therapy, I expressed this, and I was shocked to hear that it was for that exact reason is why she shared that story. Even more so to hear that my therapist, the one I expected to explain why this sacrificial idea of forgiveness was something worth striving for…said there’s no way she could do such a thing.

The rest of the discussion, we went into different types of forgiveness. How she saw my personal approach to a lot of my trauma as reflecting of forgiveness where I had never seen it. Her experiences with forgiveness. How forgiveness is just a word that means nothing on its own. What it means to heal one’s self after trauma. The validity of emotions. It was a really fantastic experience that I found myself feeling a sense of great relief after. It’s what brings me to why I’m writing this.

So often, we’ve been hurt. Family members, doctors, lovers, bosses, strangers, partners, law enforcement…… And we’ve been hurt in so many ways. Lies, manipulations, sexual assault, gaslighting, physical abuse, murder, racism…. And then we’re told by society that we should be the bigger person and show love in spite of all of these grave offenses.

I don’t prescribe to that. For me, forgiveness was reserved for innocent mistakes that were so minor and/or understandable that they could be ignored in the future of one’s relationship. You forgot to pick up bandages on your way here like I asked, and I really needed them. Okay, not the end of the world, totally forgivable. Mistakes happen. Cause me trauma? Whether intentionally or because they’ve got their own trauma they’ve never taken care of? I’ve never felt a need to extend that kindness. I still don’t. I don’t have any inner need to wish them any kind of joy or happiness. I don’t care. They fall in a “might as well be dead” category. Not because I’m spiteful and full of rage, but because I honestly don’t care about their existence anymore. I grieve the loss of a family member, or friend, or whatever the relationship was to me, and then “snip snip” they’re let go and carry as much emotion as any stranger I’d see in passing. I have two people that were born into the same family, that will never be a sister to me anymore. They’re strangers. And I mean that with all the seriousness I possess. They could tell me that they’ve gone to therapy and have a happy relationship and turned their life around, and while I won’t celebrate the change, I’m not going to be bitter they’ve decided to be a better person. I just care as much as if some stranger in the grocery store told me the same. Uh huh…cool…good for you I guess? Go have your happy life, just do it away from me. We will never have a relationship, even if they take care of their own shit. That fact is absolutely okay with me. My grieving was done years ago.

The other half of this process, was to understand that they are still a person. They are a product of their growing up, their genes, their actions, and the consequences of those actions, and experiences out of their control. This is no way is an approval or an acceptance for what they’ve done. It is merely a logical acceptance of humans are terrible animals with the potential to cause terrible pain and horror for a variety of reasons that brought them to that point. It doesn’t cause an empathizing with them. Rather, it allows me to no longer agonize over the “Why did they do this?” question. Because if I can acknowledge that the reason someone I thought was a friend was just in reality, a toxic person that made poor life choices because they’re simply broken and currently incapable of being otherwise…the details no longer matter to me. It also makes it an easier thing to release them from my life. They’re just a broken person, but they’re not my responsibility. If I hold myself responsible for my own actions, I can refuse others access to my life if they refuse to do so. So when my recent trauma happened, and the person first insisted on talking to me to “work things out”, I was already at the point of detachment. Nothing they could say would make it okay, or change the trauma. They did an unforgivable thing in my eyes, so, there’s no reason to give them the courtesy of my time and energy anymore. They were just a broken person, that made bad choices, made excuses for their bad choices, and I excused myself from being any further part of that. Especially when I had spent so much time on therapy on moving past it…on me and removing the control that trauma had on my state of being.

To me, this act was also something I didn’t think of as forgiveness. This was self preservation. While I’m sure many will disagree, it was explained that my way of approaching things was actually a type of forgiveness. Yes, what I reserved for minor transgressions was a form of forgiveness. But healing to the point where the emotions of the trauma can be released so they’re no longer causing you suffering? That’s the same spirit of forgiveness, even though it doesn’t have many characteristics of the other. If the emotions are no longer hurting, and you’re able to heal….then why try to expose yourself to further trauma for the sake of some imagined moral high ground? What can be gained from that? Isn’t it important enough that the cycle of trauma is broken? It’s a forgiveness of the circumstance rather than the individual.

When we spoke about it in that context, a part of me celebrated that I was being told that it’s not the mark of a terrible person to refuse to offer forgiveness to another. Whether they ask for it or not. Whether they make an effort for change or not. It’s okay to have your own limits as to what you can handle for yourself. It’s okay for someone to be able to go to the killer of their son and offer them forgiveness, but it’s just as okay for another mother to never hold forgiveness for the same kind of person. Neither one is better, as long as whatever they do allows them to heal for themselves.

If going to your abuser and offering them love and kindness they probably need to heal helps you release your own pain and suffering, that is an extraordinary gift and go for it. If you choose to cut off your abuser, mourn the loss of who they are to you, and learn to move forward and find new joys? That is an extraordinary gift that you’re giving to yourself. One is not better or bigger than the other. And if that’s hard to digest…what has more meaning? A crude handmade gift because the person has very limited finances or the gift that was bought with love and consideration? Or maybe, just maybe, they’re both equal of meaning because each is doing what they can with what they have.

In our lives, we have and will continue to have so many experiences in which we will be hurt or will hurt others. Some of them, we will be able to apologize and/or forgive. Some of them, we won’t be given the opportunity no matter how desperately we wish for it. Some of them, we will be unable to out of conscious choice. The important thing, as far as I’m concerned, is that we move forward with awareness and compassion. Whether this compassion needs to be directed to only the victim or the aggressor, or to be shared with both…I’m not about to tell anyone what they need to do or feel. Life is too complex for the answer to be simple as our society would have us believe.

I do believe that it has enriched my life to be able to see those that have visited trauma upon me, as people. Not as people doing their best, or victims of circumstance, or as monster…simply as people. I am comfortable in the fact that is where my compassion for those people ends. I’m also okay with the fact that some see my take on things as encouraging negativity or some such thing. That’s their cross to bare, not mine. I’m content to focus my energy on healing my own trauma so it releases any emotions that aren’t my responsibility to carry. I’m good with sometimes the challenges I face in my life don’t leave me with enough energy to spend on caring for others that have proven to not have my best interests at heart.

If all of that wasn’t enough? Being angry on a constant basis is exhausting. To be angry over what some broken person did all the time? I don’t know about any of you…I don’t have time for that. I have my health to worry about, walks to take, wildlife to meet, and plenty of art to make. I have friends, blood family, and chosen family that deserve much more of my time and attention. More importantly? I deserve that positive interaction.

So whether you call all of that forgiveness, or you have a different vocabulary for it, I hope how you move forward only goes to bring you profound peace for you, and you first and foremost. And in case you need to hear it…You’re allowed to cut off those that have hurt you no matter how they’ve changed or how many times they apologize. Even if you’re married, or they’re your parents, or they’re your best friend. You’re allowed to not feel love for them anymore, just as others are allowed to forgive completely. It’s okay if others haven’t forgiven you, they aren’t required to, so do the important work that it will take to forgive yourself. Do what you can to be the best version of yourself, and screw the idea that your version of forgiveness has to look the same to everyone else to be valid.

Writing Personal Material Is Scary

Maybe there are some people out there that are completely unfazed by laying your inner stories out for the world to see, but most of us have a prominent fear of being judged for it. There are plenty of individuals that like to try and convince others that they don’t judge others, but humans are inherently very judgmental of just about everything around them. It’s a necessary evil in human nature. Being judgmental can help us avoid staying in relationships that aren’t healthy for us or trusting that a venomous snake won’t bite us when we pick it up.

The unfortunate other side of that proverbial coin that we can damn people (and other things) without good reason because that tendency often goes unchecked and unquestioned. If you happen to have traits outside the social norm, it’s not uncommon to find yourself at the receiving end of that unkind aspect. If you’re bold enough to write about it and talk about it? There are some that only see that as making yourself an easy target. Having an anxiety disorder & cPTSD at the same time? Well that just adds to the stress of the whole idea in the first place.

How Do I Work Past That to Write?

Cognitive dissonance and I are good friends. If you’re not familiar with the term, there’s a simple explanation here, but in short, it’s a questionable coping mechanism for when two conflicting ideas occur in one’s mind. For an example; if I have concerns about being judged for what I write but I’m driven to get it out there, then I temporarily employ the belief that nobody is going to actually read anything I write anyway. If nobody is going to read it, I only have personal standards to consider. I get negative feedback? Nobody is actually reading my stuff so they’re not real people anyway. Everything again reverts to relying on my personal standards on formulating a response. Concerned people I know would read it? I’ll not put my name to it, it’s now anonymous and they’ll never know. All of the worries that try to keep me from writing things that are intimidating are nullified.

I used to co-host a spirituality based podcast (no, I won’t say which one) with a few friends. We all got really good at implementing cognitive dissonance, and it helped us stay on the air for years. Thousands of downloads per episode? It’s just one weirdo downloading it a bunch of times…nobody is listening. Emails with questions and asking for our advice? Not real people, but let’s take this topic anyway because it’s interesting! It kept us able to be open and talk freely without censoring it just to please the crowd. Invited to be aired on public radio? It’s not where we live, we can pretend that nobody is going to listen to that either because we don’t have access to it therefor it is not real. I’ve had a lot of practice before applying it to writing.

The Cognitive Dissonance is a Lie

Some of you may already notice that there is a huge, glaring problem with doing this. I did say it was a questionable coping mechanism after all. No matter how much that’s a nice practice in the immediate moment, there will always come a time when that comfort bubble is popped by reality.

In my podcast days, the first time we went to a festival, we held a seminar of how to start your own. It’s REALLY difficult to hold onto the belief that nobody listens to you when fans come up and gush. If you’re really skilled in cognitive dissonance though, you can totally spin that as those people were obviously the weirdos that were downloading your episodes by the hundreds. I don’t recommend turning the practice into a competitive practice to achieve that level of skill…but it is an option

With this site, it presents similar issues. I recently had to have a discussion with someone that’s become my family about these writings. I made up cards to hand out for the times I open my big mouth at work. I didn’t want to keep writing it on a slip of random paper when they asked for more information and I like to make pretty things. When I shared the image of them, he requested some so he could hand them out as well. Which, to be clear, is AWESOME! However…remember that comfort bubble of thinking nobody was reading what I was writing? I had to confront that either he was reading what I was writing or he was going to be share blindly and unaware of what my writings contained. There’s no comfortable answer on my end.

I’ve written about abuse and sex and other things that I have only discussed with people I’m actually friends with during a nervous breakdown when the internal wall that is my verbal filter is broken against my will. Now, I had to have a discussion with him about his access to the old wounds that I’ve flayed open via text and the impact of him actively wanting to share it.

On the one hand, not only was someone reading it, but this was someone I knew, I had to interact with, and actually cared about if what I wrote would color future interactions I had with them. On the other hand, if he wasn’t reading it, he would be sharing things that are raw and only mildly filtered. There’s a potential for someone to come back and reference something written, either with questions or because they have been offended. Accidental exposure to things is like shoving someone down a rabbit hole without their permission. It is not my preferred method of communication in most circumstances.

There really wasn’t a good way to cognitive dissonance my way out of it. And the truth is, I really probably shouldn’t. The only way to properly handle it was to accept the bubble was popped (at least in one aspect) and deal with it.

Handling the Bubble Popping

Whether podcasting or writing about sensitive subjects, there’s two ways to handle when cognitive dissonance fails you, because it always will. Attempt to turn it into an Olympic sport and see just how far you can dig yourself a metaphorical hole to hide in…or…just take a leap of faith into the rabbit hole and roll with it.

Facing the intimidating aspect of your fabricated personal reality breaking down isn’t fun, as I illustrated with my current situation. But I hope you also caught that I used the words “had to have a discussion” rather than other verbiage at my disposal. Any time I apply cognitive dissonance, it is always with the knowledge that the reality I create for the immediate moment is a bubble that can pop at any moment. I understand that it is only a tool to help me get to my end goal. So I knew I’d have to face someone I interacted with on a regular basis and this site converging eventually. I also knew, that when faced with the choice, that I’d jump down the rabbit hole. Every time.

There’s a lot of personal nuance that goes into why I’ve made that decision. A lot of it has to do with the fact that I refuse to be controlled by my anxiety. I know the only way to grow is to push past it. However, I am forced to admit that I can’t do it all the time. Rabbit holes are scary things. You never know if you’ll find a flower garden with a pensive caterpillar to discuss your situation with, or if you’ll find yourself against an army of the Red Queen’s cards. The use of cognitive dissonance gives me time to prepare for that jump. I use it like one would utilize the shallow end of a pool. I’ve accepted the fact I need to dive into the deep end. When the fear of jumping off the diving board is too much for right now, I can get comfortable wading around where it feels safer. I know I can’t stay there if I want to achieve my goal, but it helps me gain confidence as I’m walking towards the edge.

Tale of Two Choices

But why subject myself to this in the first place? Being silent and wrapped up in a comfy blanket is certainly less traumatic.

For me, it comes down to why I am using cognitive dissonance in the first place. I had to decide, before anything, what was more important. Feeling safe and comfortable was important to me and my mental health, but I was also driven to want to put my experiences out there to help others. I had to choose what held more of a priority for me. No matter what way you look at it, there were two conflicting ideas in my head, and there’s only room for one in the end. There’s a story that is often erroneously attributed to the Cherokee about having two wolves inside you, and which one you feed is the one that survives. As much as that story is a point of contention, I can use it to help explain. You can’t keep up with two ideas that conflict at their core for very long. Those “wolves” will fight and continue to do so. Eventually…you’ve got to get rid of one. Unlike the story, it’s not about one being evil and one being good. It’s simply which one is better for you.

The beauty of this kind of decision, is that there’s no wrong answer. The only thing is what is right for this present moment in one’s life. You can even revisit these conflicting ideas later and change your mind. For me…it was easy. The whole reason I even came up with the idea of starting a website in the beginning was that I wished that there was more I could have read after a doctor first shared the name “Ehlers-Danlos”. I knew that my personal comfort would take a back seat. It was no longer a question of whether I should do it, just a matter of how. I accepted back when I first purchased the domain that I’d eventually have to have uncomfortable discussions with people I love about what I have here. That I might be forced into uncomfortable discussion at best and lose them at worst. I didn’t have to like it, and I could help put it off with cognitive dissonance, but that’s what consequences just happened to come with the decision I made. To me, that was preferable than not writing at all.

There is nothing wrong with saying that for you, your comfort is currently more important. I’m not a better person than those who don’t put their stories out there. It is simply a personal choice. Don’t worry about what anyone thinks of you for that choice. Make a choice like this because it’s something you feel strongly about. Don’t write when your comfort is more important to you right now, and be proud of yourself that you’re taking necessary time for self care.

**Authors Note**

I was almost finished writing this yesterday, when two women came into my place of work. They were here to discuss a future ad that is to be recorded for said place of business.

One of the women asked about my ring splints, then about why my ankle was propped up, and eventually all about having EDS. Through all of this, she mentioned trying to find a way to plug this site. Also, I need to be the one recorded for the business add because I’m an animated speaker. She has made her decision.

I swear, the universe noticed what I was writing, and took it as a challenge.

And in the end, I’ll do any of it. I might have my heart pounding as if it’s trying to escape the whole time…but I’ll do it. Because no matter how uncomfortable in the moment, the end result of having information out there is worth my discomfort for me. But no promises that I’m not going to tell myself that CD’s and streaming radio are now a thing so even if I record…nobody is going to hear me anyway.

Until that bubble pops on me anyway…

Imagine, for a moment, that you grew up with an oven that no matter what you did, it over or under cooked everything you made. You would constantly hear friends and other family members talk about how much they loved food, their favorite dishes, and how much they loved to cook. You try everything you possibly can to work with what you’re stuck with and you find a few work around methods, but you’re still not enjoying food because though improved results, it also results in increased time and effort and only to get mildly pallet-able nourishment.

Your friends have all sorts of suggestions. “You just need to take your time! Try this brand of spices! You need to use my recipes! Try these new pots!” But you can still tell that despite all of their suggestions, they just cannot fathom your lack of enthusiasm for food. They don’t seem to understand that no matter what you try…everything tastes bad to you.

You finally call an appliance repair specialist. The response from your friends and family are mixed. Some get angry that instead of just taking their advice you called someone else. Some think it’s a waste of time because your oven looks exactly like theirs so there’s obviously nothing wrong with it. Some make fun of you for trying to find a problem to what they think isn’t real. Despite this, the specialist says that you’ve got an obvious problem with your oven, and he can’t fix it, but he can install one of a variety of regulators to help you out. He just warns you that sometimes it can be hard to find the right one, so there may be some trial and error involved.

This is fantastic news! You finally have an answer to why everyone loves food and you just…don’t. He warns you that it’ll take some getting used to, but you’re just excited for the hope of finally getting to experience decent food that everyone talks about for once!

Your friends and family have, again, a mixed response. “OMG, don’t you know that those regulators contain harmful chemicals! You don’t want that to ruin your food! I’m sure he was just lying to you to get your money. You just are looking for an easy answer instead of putting in the effort of learning to cook better.” You’re not sure if they’re right, or wrong, but you just want to try this because it sounds like your best option.

So off you go, to try out cooking a few meals. The appliance guy was right! It takes you a week or two, but you start getting food that actually tastes GOOD! It’s amazing! You finally get what other people were talking about. You’re so excited that you share your good news, only to get that same mixed review. Some are truly happy for you and celebrate with you. Others just say you’re mistaking finally learn to cook and blaming it all on the regulator. Some just brush it off as you’re trying to push that EVERYONE should get a regulator and they don’t want to hear anything about it.

All of their reactions make it even harder when you start running into some issues. Sometimes food still comes out burned or under-cooked. You know that some of it has to do with the fact that you’re getting used to cooking with something new. Some work arounds that you’ve employed in the past you don’t need, some of them you still do. But you’re also not sure whether the regulator that you have needs adjusted or if you should try a different model and see if that works better. How much is just your cooking and how much is caused by the wrong setting or model. Friends and family all have their opinions and none of it helps much. Some even still want you to ditch the regulator completely because they insist you can just learn to cook better without it.

So while you’ve come leaps and bounds and have found that food is a new joy in your life, it still has a lot of challenges that people with normal ovens just don’t have to deal with or think about.

Coming Back to Mental Health

Now, if this weren’t an metaphor, you could just go out and get a new oven. But the oven is your brain and as much as those of us with depression and/or anxiety would love to trade it in for one that isn’t as flawed…we’re stuck with it. We don’t always make the right neurotransmitters, or if we do our neurons don’t always do what they should with them. It’s so much more than just learning to “be normal”. No matter how much we try, our brains will always have a challenge to deal with.

Our regulators are the mood altering medications that cause so much controversy. We’re often told how we shouldn’t take them for so many reasons that I don’t want to get into right now. Many people are shamed for taking medications for their mental health and told how they should simply “get over it”. I wish, with everything that I have, that those that are suffering didn’t have to face the added stigma of using an important tool to try and help something that needs it.

I used the oven because if an appliance was broken, you’d of course look to fix it. Leaving it broken just seems absurd and (hopefully) imagining friends and family telling you to just learn to cook on a broken appliance seems even more absurd. Yet this is what we face when even considering taking an anti-depressant.

No, medication isn’t going to fix us. It’s silly to think so. But it will help give us a more stable base to work off of. It can help us see the joy in life and allow us the clarity to continue to move forward, despite the slightly faulty equipment that we’ve got to work with. Even if it takes a bit of trial and error to find the best match of medication, and a lot of work to learn what is medication induced and what is personal hurdle to overcome. But don’t you think it’s worth it?

If you would try and fix something external that’s not working instead of trying to pretend it’s fine…doesn’t it make sense to try and approach something internal the same way?

Why Are They Considered Bad?

Do a quick search on Google and you’ll get a ton of articles that will give you a list of what they consider negative emotions and what to do to get rid of them. We’ve also all had that well-meaning individual that when we’re feeling bad does their best to pull us out of it. But what makes them so bad?

The biggest reason is that they are uncomfortable to experience. Even when reading over the small list I had above, some readers will internally cringe or feel a wave of sympathy. Some may have even gotten uncomfortable at the title of this article. They’re not nice things to go through. As we develop into adulthood, we’ve learned along the way that uncomfortable equates to dangerous and dangerous equates to something to avoid. It only goes to follow that emotions that make us feel that discomfort, get categorized into bad.

Another reason is something that I’ve mentioned in an earlier article about physical pain, we don’t like to see our fellow humans in pain. When we see someone that is in the middle of facing a “negative” emotion, the reaction for most of us is to want to make it better…to fix it. So we offer condolence, try and make them laugh, tell them positive things going on. Their discomfort makes us equally as uncomfortable.

There is also a physiological correlation between those types of emotions that I touched on in an article about talking to your body. Studies have shown that certain emotions have a negative impact on the immune system, heal rates, and organ function. With all of that, the evidence seems to point in favor of avoiding or trying to get rid of those emotions as quickly as possible, right? Well…not really.

To Feel Is To Be Human

All emotions are equally important. ALL OF THEM. Whatever you feel, however you react to a situation…is okay. Let me repeat that. Whatever emotions you experience is okay and normal, even if you don’t like them .

To be human, is to experience the whole spectrum, not just the pleasant things in life. We can’t sever or bottle things just because they don’t feel nice at the moment and expect to function at our best. Whether we like it or not, ignoring an uncomfortable emotion carries with it the same risk as if we choose to ignore an ailment that is purely physical such as a sprained ankle. Pretending it’s not there doesn’t remove it, it just increases the potential for the damage to become worse. What’s even more dangerous about when this is done with emotions, is that we can lie to ourselves convincingly enough that because we don’t have a direct correlation, such as a sprained ankle would with increased pain, to let us be acutely aware of this escalated damage. Symptoms that can easily be written off such as decreased appetite, restless sleep, moodiness, headaches, fatigue, stomach upset, forgetfulness..can all be attributed to other aspects of our life rather than to emotional causes. It must be something we ate the day before, or an allergy because if it’s “bad” emotions we might actually have to do something about them.

This doesn’t mean I’m encouraging you to carve out a place and wallow in them. Nor do we have to make a banner out of our less pleasant emotions and wave it around wherever we go. But we shouldn’t try and pretend they don’t exist or try and convince others to push them out at all costs. You’re emotions are a reaction to what’s going on around you from your brain. Consider it the same as when your nerves send an excited chill at a lover’s touch or pain from touching a fire. In that sense, acknowledging sadness is just as important of an emotional message as joy.

So What SHOULD We Do?

With the flood of suggestions about how to remove them or hide them, what should we really do when those “bad” emotions show up?

Well….

Accept them.

It sounds simple, but in today’s age that’s a really difficult thing to do. So many of us are so used to shoving them in a dark place inside ourselves that we are unaccustomed to dealing with them in healthy ways. We explode at the source of those less than pleasant emotions or those we care for because they’re closest to us. We indulge in coping mechanisms such as video games so we can drown out the painful reminder of whatever is crushing us at the moment.

But it doesn’t have to be that way.

Letting yourself be angry or sad or frustrated and acknowledging to yourself that it’s okay to feel this way is SO VERY IMPORTANT! Until we do these things, all the positive thinking in the world isn’t going to help, especially when you’re facing chronic illness. EDS folks, we deal with constant pain and limitations because of how our body is built. If a professional athlete is allowed to feel upset and frustrated as they’re healing from an acute illness, we are allowed to be frustrated and upset at our life circumstances! You are allowed to cry. You are allowed to scream. You are allowed.

Now, like I mentioned above, you don’t have to live there. The idea behind this is that you need to allow, and then show yourself compassion about it. This can be as simple as holding your hands over where the emotion feels the strongest within your body. Does it tie your stomach in knots or make your heart ache? Hold your hands there. Hug yourself. Cuddle a stuffed animal there. Allow yourself to embrace that crappy feeling and comfort where your body is feeling it. It can sound a bit on the silly side, and may even feel that way doing it, but it does actually stimulate our nerves and can have a relaxing effect.

Then, let those emotions work FOR you instead of against you. I will use myself as an example. With all those things I listed in the beginning of this article, I am angry and disappointed. It started as anger towards everything and disappointment in myself if I’m to be honest. I felt like everything I did wasn’t helping and obviously I had to be doing something wrong. Maybe life just hated me that much. Maybe it’s not even worth trying anymore to improve my ankles because I’ve been facing this since last October and having so many problems that shouldn’t have happened. I tried to hide it at work, and from those I loved, because I didn’t want to be a burden. One day it got so bad, I completely broke down. I cried and hugged myself while I sobbed in the shower until I used up all the hot water about my circumstances. All of it came out. The fact I will never shoot archery again. I will never run again. I have to regulate how often I can do my artwork. I can’t do what I used to at work anymore. I will never get better. It felt like the internal pain was so overwhelming that it would never stop. It was embarrassing and I hated it.

But the tears did stop. And you know what? I felt better for finally releasing all of those things that I was trying so hard to pretend didn’t exist. I got angry at the depression and at the EDS for making me feel helpless. I got angry that I allowed myself to do this TO MYSELF! What did I think I was accomplishing? Hell if I’m going to let this stop me from being creative, or living my life. Yes, all of that sucks. A lot. More than I know how to properly express. But that doesn’t stop me from trying to figure out a way to accomplish new things, or inventing ways around my limitations to do what I’d like at least a little bit. I stopped turning those emotions inward, and used them as motivation to move forward.

It doesn’t stop things from being hard. The idea isn’t to stop them anyway. The idea is to let them do their job so we can move past them. Using them as signals of something we need to change either in ourselves or our surroundings to improve our quality of life. As an alert to turn inward and see where the core of those feelings start from and learn to grow as people from them. We can’t do that when they’re stuffed into a box deep inside the parts of our mind we don’t want to look. We can only do that when we dust off that box, and take it out into the light and look at ourselves with the compassion we all deserve.

Wishing you all, all the love.

Anthropomorphizing My Mental Illness

No, I don’t literally hear voices arguing in my head. But giving them a life of their own has helped me to organize it in my own mind. When my depression and anxiety disorders decide it’s time to peak, it feels like I’m being ganged up on…even if it’s all me. This is because even though I know all the thoughts come from within my own mind, there’s a small part of me that fights every time to remind the of myself that I don’t normally think that way or that what thoughts I’m having are irrational.

These could be fairly obvious examples of irrational thought such as when my anxiety brain decides that checking my email is terrifying. “Seriously? What is the worst thing that I could read? It’s not like we’re being harassed and have to actually be concerned. My life is not in danger from email, I promise you”. But sometimes it’s more subtle and you only realize you drifted into crazy land after it’s too late. It has gone from wondering why the boyfriend didn’t respond to a text, to wondering if he’s upset with me, to wondering what I did, and somehow… Within minutes… My head is giving me insane concerns that our relationship has been a lie from the beginning and I have been manipulated for sex because that’s the only reason he’d keep talking to me and he’s obviously sleeping with a bunch of other people and that’s why he’s not called back because he’s tired of me! I wish I could properly explain just how far into crazy land this line of thinking is for my relationship with him. I didn’t just wander into crazy land, I staged a hostile take over of it’s capitol and declared myself its evil dictator. By the time it gets to that point, I’ve started to catch my brain rewriting past interactions to be negative and manipulative. And seriously? He’s one of the most genuinely compassionate people I know and can’t lie to save his life.

How Did I Get There?

It’s easier to understand if you think of the anxiety and depression brain as having the same behavior of the meanest girls you knew in highschool. You know, just like in the movie Mean Girls. They feel their purpose is to rip you down.

Anxiety tells you how everything is going to crash down in the worst way possible while Depression is there to tell you exactly how it’s all due to your gross ineptitude. They don’t give up easy, they’ve got a lot of practice, they have learned to play well off each other, and they’re unrelentlessly cruel.

Let me play out an extended version of the example I gave above of inner dialog.

I wonder if everything is okay, I normally hear back by now. I mean, all was good last time we spoke. Could be busy at work or left the phone at home.

I hope he’s not mad at me.

No, I mean, why? He didn’t say anything about being mad at me.

Probably trying to be nice and not hurt my feelings because he knows I’ve been through a lot right now.

I have been going through a lot lately… I’ve probably been really annoying to him.

Maybe he IS trying to distance himself a bit. I’m too much for me to deal with, I can only imagine how much it is for him.

It’s not like it’s his job to save me anyway. I’m asking too much for him to be there for me.

It’s only his right to be frustrated with me at this point.

How could he put up with all of me for this long?

Maybe he just doesn’t realize how bad I am, because I can be so terrible I don’t even want to be around me.

No, he’s seen me break a few times now. He knows.

Maybe that’s it then, he didn’t realize it, now he knows, so now he’s trying to find an easy out!

Can’t really blame him for it. I guess I hid it in the beginning. Really wasn’t fair.

But he has told me before that it’s not fair for me to deal with this on my own and that he wants to be here for me.

That’s easy to say though. Nobody actually means when they say that.

I do, but don’t hold anyone else to that. You’ll just be disappointed when you need them and they can’t be there.

He probably just said that because it calmed you down.

If you noticed, he wanted to have sex later. It was probably just to get you to shut up long enough to get laid.

That’s probably the real reason he stays around.

He’s probably really practiced at talking pretty and getting women convinced he cares for them.

I was probably just lured in and never saw it coming.

Oh gods, I’ve got myself into such a mess, I should back off too.

Oh, he messaged back. He says he just left his phone and said “love you beautiful”.

Yeah, probably just to get you to not think about it.

He’s probably just giving automatic responses. It’s an easily expected thing to do.

That’s how he lured you in the first place.

Yeah, I need to back away. It’ll only end in heartbreak.

I should have known better to think someone could be that sweet and actually love me.

And it continues to go on like this. Some days I can catch it early and quiet it. Some days it runs like a child with scissors. Now, to counter what Anxiety and Depression have to say…I totally made the first moves and it was equal in pursuing. We’re often talking about loads of really amazing conversation and while sex is important and fun…I am treated far from a booty call when convenient. That’s as much for the readers benefit as it is a reminder to myself when I read over this later. That line of thinking is beyond absurd. But, there it sits, straight from the Dictator of Crazy Land.

Where Do We Go From Here?

For me, it’s a mix of putting into effect cognitive coping skills and, recently, medication.

I have learned, with the help of an incredible therapist in my past, to help notice the difference between a bad situation and Depression and Anxiety logic. That’s the first step. As soon as I recognize it as bullshit, I call it out for what it is. This could be to myself, this could be to my friends, this could be to the person the bullshit is surrounding for the moment. I have, on occasion, gone to the boyfriend and said “I’ve got bad Depression and Anxiety brain right now and it’s telling lies about you. Can you just hold me and tell me it’s okay?” And, the fantastic man he is, goes above and beyond in somehow just the way that it makes it better.

But it still lays on my shoulders to recognize it and communicate. I’ve set up with a few friends warning signs I forget or have too much apathy to hide when it gets bad and what to do. All of it, however, is me looking out for myself in the end. Making sure that I’m basically hiding coping tools in the trust and love of those close to me. Honestly, it was due to those fail safes that I ended up at the doctor deciding to go on medication.

It would be hard enough if that kind of continual abuse was coming from bullies. We often can’t deal with such a situation on our own. It should be considered no different just because the bully is in your own mind, is okay to call in reinforcements.