Neurotic, Neurotic...
Of late, and by "of late" I mean for the past 10 years, I've been "doing the work to make my life more fulfilling."
Read: therapy.
Alright, so, recently, I made a discovery.
I experience anxiety when I feel depressed.
Why?
Well, I was officially diagnosed "Depressed" a few years back and started medication to help start "not being Depressed." I started on Zoloft, which, for all intents and purposes, shuts down ALL feelings. Not just the sad, anxious ones. And it was great. For 2 years I was free of the crippling sense of doom and gloom I'd been living with my entire life. Sure, I couldn't cry anymore, but who cared? Certainly not me. I was MEDICATED! Then I lost my job and had to stop the Zoloft. Which was cool because then I COULD feel again and the sad wasn't nearly as sad or as often as it was in the past. And I felt pretty much ok with how I was feeling.
Then, I had an episode. The result of which was a prescription for Xanax, and a new, less numbing medication...Welbutrin. Also, out of the episode was born this blog...
Where am I going with this?
Ah, yes, the anxiety about the Sad. Well, I've determined that as a result of knowing what NO FEELING feels like, the presence of feelings on my current medical cocktail gives me pause, and worry. Rather than just accept the ebb and flow, the cresting and troughing of mood, I freak the fuck out and start wondering:
"What's wrong with me?"
"Why am I feeling depressed on meds?"
"What more can I be doing?"
"What am I not doing?"
"What needs to be fixed in my life right this second and if it can't be fixed then I am a total failure at life and should just consign myself to an existence in some romote locale subsisting on jams and jellies I make from the wild blackberries and crabapples that grow wild on the hillside".
And the fun doesn't stop there! Somehow, I have managed to continue a trend of not allowing myself permission to feel "negative emotions" without harsh judgement. Anger, fear, hate, sorrow, weakness, even hope are met with a stern talking to by my inner voice. I am an absolute MASTER at talking myself out of feeling justified for any of the above emotions. I logic and reason myself out of feelings. Honestly, it's really goddamned annoying. And it has fallout as well.
I am acutely intolerant of what I call "Self Indulgent Behavior".
What's this. you ask?
I can only explain it anecdotally:
I first noticed it at Summer Camp. There was this girl who (in all fairness was a totally stuck up douchebag) had been in a car wreck, like 3 years before this, and someone ran up to her and startled her by grabbing her shoulders and giving her a little shake. Well, you'd think they pushed her over and kicked her repeatedly based on the way she behaved. She was all "Oh my god, my neck! My neck! I was in a CAR ACCIDENT! YOU CAN'T TOUCH ME LIKE THAT!!" and had to be carried back to her cabin. Fucking ridiculous. Right? No. Not necessarily. But I had been taught all my life not to blow things out of proportion...not to be a bother...and in the most extreme sense, not to feel, OR show weakness. I resented her ability to get attention just by expressing fear or pain. That didn't work in my world. I got attention by being strong, by being capable, by being able to take care of myself. It was noble...martyr-y. And honestly? Fucking Exhausting. So, again, I resent people who get attention through their "negative feelings." But the kicker is, I FEEL BAD ABOUT FEELING THE WAY I DO ABOUT THESE PEOPLE!!!
Ok, my head just goddamned exploded.
Anyway, so, I suppose the lesson and goal here is to calm the hell down and know and accept that every feeling is normal, healthy, and ok, and that just because I feel sad (or any of the other aforementioned emotions) for a minute doesn't mean that the world is coming to a cataclysmic end.
Right?
Right.
Read: therapy.
Alright, so, recently, I made a discovery.
I experience anxiety when I feel depressed.
Why?
Well, I was officially diagnosed "Depressed" a few years back and started medication to help start "not being Depressed." I started on Zoloft, which, for all intents and purposes, shuts down ALL feelings. Not just the sad, anxious ones. And it was great. For 2 years I was free of the crippling sense of doom and gloom I'd been living with my entire life. Sure, I couldn't cry anymore, but who cared? Certainly not me. I was MEDICATED! Then I lost my job and had to stop the Zoloft. Which was cool because then I COULD feel again and the sad wasn't nearly as sad or as often as it was in the past. And I felt pretty much ok with how I was feeling.
Then, I had an episode. The result of which was a prescription for Xanax, and a new, less numbing medication...Welbutrin. Also, out of the episode was born this blog...
Where am I going with this?
Ah, yes, the anxiety about the Sad. Well, I've determined that as a result of knowing what NO FEELING feels like, the presence of feelings on my current medical cocktail gives me pause, and worry. Rather than just accept the ebb and flow, the cresting and troughing of mood, I freak the fuck out and start wondering:
"What's wrong with me?"
"Why am I feeling depressed on meds?"
"What more can I be doing?"
"What am I not doing?"
"What needs to be fixed in my life right this second and if it can't be fixed then I am a total failure at life and should just consign myself to an existence in some romote locale subsisting on jams and jellies I make from the wild blackberries and crabapples that grow wild on the hillside".
And the fun doesn't stop there! Somehow, I have managed to continue a trend of not allowing myself permission to feel "negative emotions" without harsh judgement. Anger, fear, hate, sorrow, weakness, even hope are met with a stern talking to by my inner voice. I am an absolute MASTER at talking myself out of feeling justified for any of the above emotions. I logic and reason myself out of feelings. Honestly, it's really goddamned annoying. And it has fallout as well.
I am acutely intolerant of what I call "Self Indulgent Behavior".
What's this. you ask?
I can only explain it anecdotally:
I first noticed it at Summer Camp. There was this girl who (in all fairness was a totally stuck up douchebag) had been in a car wreck, like 3 years before this, and someone ran up to her and startled her by grabbing her shoulders and giving her a little shake. Well, you'd think they pushed her over and kicked her repeatedly based on the way she behaved. She was all "Oh my god, my neck! My neck! I was in a CAR ACCIDENT! YOU CAN'T TOUCH ME LIKE THAT!!" and had to be carried back to her cabin. Fucking ridiculous. Right? No. Not necessarily. But I had been taught all my life not to blow things out of proportion...not to be a bother...and in the most extreme sense, not to feel, OR show weakness. I resented her ability to get attention just by expressing fear or pain. That didn't work in my world. I got attention by being strong, by being capable, by being able to take care of myself. It was noble...martyr-y. And honestly? Fucking Exhausting. So, again, I resent people who get attention through their "negative feelings." But the kicker is, I FEEL BAD ABOUT FEELING THE WAY I DO ABOUT THESE PEOPLE!!!
Ok, my head just goddamned exploded.
Anyway, so, I suppose the lesson and goal here is to calm the hell down and know and accept that every feeling is normal, healthy, and ok, and that just because I feel sad (or any of the other aforementioned emotions) for a minute doesn't mean that the world is coming to a cataclysmic end.
Right?
Right.
posted by LC Greenwood at 10:09 AM
2 Comments:
I agree that all feelings are probably useful in that they're informing you about conditions around you. I've never been medicated, so feel free to tell me I'm an uneducated idiot -
But here on the outside, (while still identifying with several of your listed emotions) it seems to me that in many cases medication is akin to repeatedly putting a band-aid on a cut one continually inflicts on themselves - inadvertantly or not. So that rather than figuring out how to PUT DOWN THE KNIFE, the band-aid simply distracts the focus, dulls the pain, and the cutting continues. Ultimately, eventually, the underlying problem needs to be faced and dealt with.
Or does it?
Sometimes I feel like life is one big, long game. The goal is to cover my mistakes, avoid sickness, avoid physical confrontations with bad drivers, and dodge tax evasion charges... until I ultimately die of old age. How many times have you heard friends proudly tell you how long it's been since they've vomited? Like it's a record to be beaten.
Putting off everything remotely uncomfortable in this world until I don't have to deal with it anymore is my pathetic goal. And death is the final way out, right? I mean, if I was told I was going to have incurable cancer of my pancreas at age 80 unless I change my eating habits, my goal would be to continue eating as I damn well please, and meanwhile figure out a way to die (read: end the game) in my sleep at 79.
Sick, huh?
Well, medication alone is only a bandaid. Medication coupled with therapy is supposed to be an actually dressing.
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