Friday, May 12, 2006

Well duh!

As I was toodling around on the internet today, I stumbled upon a recently published study that concluded oh-so-brilliantly that depressed people are more likely to be introverted. The author was apparently shocked by the rather obvious correlation between how depressed someone is and how introverted a person is. Do we really need a study to come to that conclusion?

Not all introverts are depressed, clearly. But it seems to me that more often than not, introversion is a manifestation of depression. Who wants to go out and remember how fucking happy everyone else is? Sure, leaving the house is healthy and all that crap, but when you're stuck in a depression where getting out of bed is a challenge, it seems like a no brainer that you're not going to have the motivation or energy to get up, get dressed, look cute and act all nice to people. Duh!

What's next? A study that says depressed people are more unhappy than the average bloke?


Monday, May 01, 2006

From 0 to 60 in no time at all

Holy crap. I haven't posted in forever. I keep having that reaction about things in my life that I used to do all the time but haven't because of this nasty depressive funk I've been in (and am currently WAY out of. More on that in a second). Honestly. I haven't posted since March, I haven't gotten my ass to the lab for blood work since September, I haven't called my friends in forever. I haven't gotten my hair cut since December. I haven't looked at our finances since last April. I haven't bought a single article of new clothing since December. I haven't done much of anything really.

And then came a random high out of nowhere. What is up with that? Haha. Get it? UP with that. Teehee. Anyway, yesterday I was alright until about 10:00pm and then I got that nervous sensation. I swear that must come from an overstimulated vagus nerve because my stomach gets so tempermental and what not. But anyway, 10:00pm-ish, that nervous/panicky feeling comes on and so my answer to all of life's troubles kicked in. When the going gets tough, I go to bed. But I, me, the queen of sleep, couldn't get to sleep. I had a story plotline dragging through my mind, swirling with a few different pop songs and then a little practical voice chirping about all of the things I need to do. I tried to cut in, to calm the neverending swirl of thoughts in my head, but everytime I managed it, I would fall into that half-sleep stage where I lose my conscious ability to control my thoughts and BAM, they were back and I would wake up. And the odd thing was that certain thoughts and people and lyrics seemed to be tied directly to that nervousness and a shot of OMIGOD! WARNING! WARNING! is not conducive to proper sleep.

So then my pooch woke me up at about 8:30am for a walk and even though I hardly ever wake up before noon these days, I didn't even consider going back to sleep because my mind was like, hell no. And honestly, I had the most productive day I've had all year long. Now, when you're mired in apathetic laziness, you really don't do much of anything. Unloading a dishwasher can seem like a Herculean feat. So from that mindset, I suddenly jumped to normal and functional overnight. I did three loads of laundry, folded and put away and all. Honestly, that would have taken me two or three days as of yesterday morning. But today, I was on it. I picked up my scripts, got blood drawn, tackled the enormous pile of mail that we'd accumulated over the past two weeks, collected paperwork so I can effectively take over our finances next month, brushed out one of my cats much to her ire, uncovered the surfaces of tables and dressers so I could dust them and tackled our massive dishes back-up that was growing a new civilization in terrifying, man-eating mold. I even snagged Brendan into helping me take out some of our massive back-up of trash and we're now just about eight garbage bags less cluttered than we were before. Pretty sweet stuff. Oh, and I wrote about 15 pages of random crap (AKA ridiculously bad fiction) in there too.

Where did this energy come from and can I keep it and get rid of the gnawing stomach ache and the jittery nervousness bit?

I can't tell you what changed, only that something changed and it changed in the course of a few hours. Whatever changed creates a dramatic shift in my life. When I look at what I'm going to do tomorrow, it's black and white depending on how I feel, on if this up remains in place for awhile.

I don't have a great plan for how to ride the wave. At this point, I'm content to use this influx of motivation to try to bring my life up to speed after sitting in park for almost an entire year. But what happens if I clean this apartment top to bottom<--a much larger task than it may seem given Brendan's pack rat tendencies--> and still have energy after that? I guess that would be an excellent problem to have. In fact, let's hope that I run into that problem.

Come on a thought experiment with me, though. If this motivation and dare I say ambition sticks around, then I'm in a position to sell myself as a highly productive employee to some business. And I might be highly productive for a month, or three, or six, or an entire year. But in a bipolar world of peaks and valleys, the fall will happen and it's just a matter of when. And since no one can tell me when, I can't tell anyone else when. So I run into the classic hypomanic dilemma because I can rule the world...for awhile. But you can't just take on everything you're capable of and then flake out on people. That's not fair. But at the same time, I'll go mad if I have this much drive and nowhere to unleash it. Again, a good problem to have, I guess.

You know, after all the what ifs, I bet you I'll go back to apathy and amotivation in 12 hours and this mythical energy will seem as but a dream within a dream. <--For those who might not get that reference, see the poem below. I love Edgar Allen Poe.

A Dream Within A Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?