Hijacked

I feel like vomiting out my brain.  It is not working and I would like to exchange it for a new one. I've tried writing about what it is like to be depressed in the past, but I realized that I can't do it when I am not depressed.  Well, I am depressed now and I wish I weren't.

Being depressed is like having your brain hijacked by a terrorist.  You really don't have control.  You can put in security measures and focus on prevention as best you can, but it can sneak through anyhow.  Once the bastard is on board, you can fight back and try to wrest the controls out of its hands, but there is no guarantee.   You can still crash and burn.

I am in the process of fighting my personal terrorist, it snuck past my security measures. All the things I can control, I am doing.  I take my medication, I take steps to get good sleep (although it doesn't always work), I eat right, I do things I enjoy and seek social support.  I haven't needed to see my therapist in a while, but I have an appointment now.  I also haven't exercised consistently, but I am now. Every aspect of my life I have control of I am setting the dials to full on fighting depression mode.  Unfortunately, it feels like my brain is going down, anyhow.  Stupid brain, stupid depression.

I haven't had a full crash and burn in years.  Just little bits of turbulence.  I was really okay with not remembering exactly what a major depressive episode felt like.  But, yet, here it is.  I feel mired in the mud of hopelessness and sadness.  I want to cry and cry and cry.  For no reason, no reason at all.  My days seem like a burden. All I want to do is sleep.

And for an extra special bonus, sometimes I have atypical depression, which means that I also have a lot of agitation and irritability.  I have road rage.  Once upon a time I flipped off a bunch of thugish looking young men in a sketchy neighborhood.  I feel full of hate and I can't manage my mouth.  Last night I told my husband that I had to ask our daughter to brush her teeth "800 times" and used a horrible, harsh voice.  She said "you only asked me two times" and then burst into tears.  I open my mouth and a monster comes out.  Don't I suck?  Now I have oppressive guilt because I am a bad mother.  

There is some of my rational brain left in there, the usual pilot isn't just cowering in the corner.  She just told me that everyone makes mistakes and I don't have to be a perfect mother, I have to just be good enough.  I love my normal pilot, she is so nice and I feel so undeserving it makes me want to cry.  She is my friend; Rational brain is still in charge of decision-making, the bastard depression has only got the controls of my feelings.  Stupid brain, stupid depression.

I've gone on this trip many times before.  For many, many years I was depressed twice a year, every year.  There were some very, very bad times where the idea of dying seemed like a wonderful relief.  I just wouldn't have to feel anymore.  I get why people commit suicide and I have a sense of how much pain they carried.  I get that depression took over their controls completely.  But at my very, very worst, rational brain was always in charge of the live or die question.  She always soundly held those controls and held them firmly on "live."

I learned during my first year of college, when I had a severe depressive episode, that my symptoms were the result of haywire brain chemistry.  I used that bit of information to shore up my rational brain.  I  also knew that I would come back out; this also kept rational brain going.  I learned that being hijacked was a temporary state, even if the hijacker managed to drive me into the ground in a ball of fire, I would rise from the ashes.  I always rise from the ashes.

But, oh how I wish the hijacker would go away once and for all.  I wish I didn't have to fight.  I wish I could go about my life as I was before.  But, that is not what I got.  What I got is depression.  And what that means is I will make sure rational brain keeps control of my decisions, because I know my choices limit the power of the hijacker.  It means I will never give up because I will always right my path and head back to mental health.  Ultimately, I am stronger than depression and that bastard hijacker won't have his hands on any controls.  He's going down, not me.

note to reader: I wrote this approximately 4 weeks ago and have improved since then.  I am not 100% back to cruising altitude but I am also not headed for a crash and burn.)