Cruising

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, we have reached cruising altitude and you are free to move about the cabin."

Whew!  The rational pilot is fully in control again.  The hijacker, depression, has been removed the cockpit.  It was a fight and I was pretty sure the whole thing was going to go down in flames but I was able to right myself.  I am more or less flying steady now.

Cat Therapy

The strategies used to fight the terrorist were varied.  I went to my naturopath to see if there was any nutritional or herbal support.  I saw my psychiatric nurse practitioner to make sure my medication was were it needed to be.  I met with my counselor.  I talked to my husband, my best friend and my mom. My best friend and I exchanged daily texts for about a month providing each other with affirmation and support. I got massages, I took walks, I did yoga.  I read funny books and uplifting blogs.  I bought plants and puttered in the garden.  I sat in a rocker on the deck and watched the chickens scratching around.  I took naps with our cats.  I pet the dog.  I slacked off on chores when I needed to.  I did art projects. Every day I made a choice to do something nice for myself.

Garden Therapy

It was hard.  All these nice things were incredibly difficult, especially at the beginning. The hijacker likes to whisper advice that is the OPPOSITE of what should be done.  The hijacker suggests that being alone is the best, hiding my feelings is always a good idea and I should probably just give up anyhow.  Hardest of all was to tell others that I was in the midst of a major depressive episode.  So often in my personal life, I am the strong one, the one who knows what to do and how to take care of others. In my professional life, I am always the strong one and the voice of wisdom.  I did my best to ignore the hijacker.

I also redirected his harsh voice that told me how awful I was.  The ugly hijacker voice had all sorts of horrible things to say.  "You are a horrible mom."  "Your family would be better off if you weren't around."  "You are a failure."  At the time, that voice was pretty compelling.  While the rational pilot didn't allow me to believe that those thoughts were real, they sure felt real. Which is why I often repeated to myself, "Feelings are not facts.  Feelings are not facts. This is a product of your brain chemistry. Feelings are not facts. Feelings are not facts. FEELINGS ARE NOT FACTS!"   If I wasn't feeling convinced, I would go find my husband or text my friend or reread a supportive message from another loved one.

It was a process.  There was not an immediate reward.  My depression didn't leave after using one coping strategy or intervention.  I had to ignore the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness and carry on with the plan of attack.  I had to always remember the hijacker was a liar.  Each of these things was a blow to the hijacker, even when it seemed he was winning. Each activity, each connection, each healthy choice was a hit against the one who wanted to fly me into the ground.  Each one of these things gave my brain chemistry a boost.  I hit the hijacker in the gut, over and over again.  Eventually, the hijacker could no longer take it and succumbed to the blows.

Like the process of becoming depressed, the process of becoming well is gradual.  The downward spiral slows, then I a fly low but straight for a while.  Then, imperceptibly, my brain begins to head upward.  After a while, I get to the end of the day and think "That wasn't so bad." "That wasn't so bad" then becomes "Life is good."  

I am back to "Life is good."

Thank God and science and perseverance.

Yoga with my friend Kira who is staying with us while her mommies are on vacation.