why depression sucks

I have made mention of the fact that despite having the bipolar diagnosis, I have been doing well in life. For the last six years or so, I’ve been very stable—experiencing very few bumps in the road. 

Ironically enough, though my blog is titled craziness uncensored, I have never actually sat down and wrote about why I call it that. And that got me to thinking that I have never actually written about what the bipolar disorder is. Let me clear that up.

Bipolar is a state where one’s mood can swing from mania to deep depression. It used to be referred to as manic depressive disorder (personally, I prefer this label because it defines the disease from the get-go.) So you fluctuate through this mood from mania to depression back and forth like a pendulum swinging from high to low to high to low.

As far as my experiences go with it, I’ve gone through the highest of highs (mania) and the lowest of lows (deep depression). The depression I’m writing about isn’t like a normal depression. It doesn’t really depend on what situation I’m in. It’s not about being upset, or discouraged or frustrated with life. 

To describe it so that it makes more sense, being deeply depressed is like carrying a ball and chain with me wherever I go. Whatever I do is made ten times more difficult. In fact, just getting out of bed every morning is a chore. Quite frankly, it sucks—like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. 

So can I be quite honest here? I used to love being manic. Mania felt so good, like I was on top of the world, invincible, and in the happiest of moods. But I’ve learned there’s a dark side to the mania. I know that when I’m manic, depression is just around the corner waiting to pounce—dragging me back into that all too familiar pit of despair.  

As I’ve written above, I have been very stable for the last six years. Very few extreme highs or lows. I credit that stability to being on the right “cocktail” of meds. 

But a couple of weeks ago, an unwelcome visitor arrived bringing with it all kinds of baggage. It punched me in the gut out of nowhere—depression. And when it set in, I began to worry. It had been so long since I’d felt this poorly. This bout of depression scared me. Just the thought of heading back down that road of deep despair made me want to weep.

So I went to see my psychiatrist and she upped one of my meds to “bump me out of my depression”. And boy, did it ever bump me up. For a couple of days, I felt great. Life was amazing. But all good things must come to an end, and the expected crash happened reminding me of why I hate my diagnosis. 

You see, these days I’m not looking for mania so much. No, now, I prefer stable. No high highs and no low lows—just middle of the road is all right by me. Simply put, I do not want to go back to pre-diagnosed days. It was hell. Honestly, I know no other way to describe it. 

In the end, I know I must trust the God who holds all of my days in his hand and wisely gives them one by one. I have to remember the promise that God’s power is made perfect in my weakness. And, quite frankly, I need to carry on the best I can waiting for the day when I will get back to the middle of the road.

What he chooses to remember

Ever thought God was a meanie? Unfair, unloving, unkind. Punishing us for even the most minor of infractions. Ignoring our tears. Ignoring our cries for help. Yup, that’s God summed up in a nutshell, or is it?

I think God deserves a break, and here’s why. Have you ever thought about what God forgets and what he chooses to remember? If you haven’t ever really considered it, allow me to let scripture shed some light on the subject.

Let’s start with what God forgets. Our sin.

^{Psalm 103:11} For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
   so great is his love for those who fear him;
¹² as far as the east is from the west,
   so far has he removed our transgressions from us.

Doesn’t sound so mean or unfair to me. Sounds kind of good actually. Like something I don’t really deserve. You may have read this one before and felt comforted and encouraged to know that God’s love is as big as it gets. It’s helped me, but up until a recent lesson in a bible study by Beth Moore, I hadn’t thought too much about just how complete God’s forgiveness is. Then I came across a verse that literally awed me.

^{Micah 7:19} You will again have compassion on us;
   you will tread our sins underfoot
   and hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea.

God’s a meanie, huh? Really? The one who hurls our sins into the depths of the sea: never thinking about them, never holding a grudge, never deep sea diving for them. It’s almost like he forgets about them, or rather, in Christ, he chooses to forget them.

So, what does God decide to remember? Our tears. A few years back, I stumbled across this verse in the book of Psalms;

^{Psalm 56:8} You keep track of all my sorrows.^[a]
      You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
      You have recorded each one in your book.

At that time in my life, things were pretty tough, and, like most of you, I shed a lot of tears that seemed to go unnoticed. But when I came across this verse, it was like balm to my soul. God records each one of my tears? Wow. What a mind blowing thought; the God of the universe knows and records every single tear I’ve ever shed? He collects them. Like a priceless treasure.

Why, why would he do that? Because the most important choice God makes when it comes to his creation is love. He loves us. Plain and simple. He hates that we hurt. He hates that we cry. And, in his almighty goodness, he chooses to remember our tears. Just so we don’t think he doesn’t care. Just so we don’t think he isn’t with us.

^{Revelation 7:17} For the Lamb at the center of the throne
   will be their shepherd;
‘he will lead them to springs of living water.’^[a]
   ‘And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.’^[b]”

Did you catch that? Not some. Not a few. Not most. Every. Every tear will be wiped away from our eyes, mine, yours, God sees them all. He cares about them all.

I’ll admit it is easy to think that God is mean. It is. But, hopefully, today you’ve gained a little perspective. Remember these two simple yet important things: God chooses to forget our sins, God chooses to collect our tears. And when we come home to heaven, he is prepared to wipe each and every one of them away.

crazy side effects

I’m interrupting this broadcast – the big three, part 2 – for a very important announcement. For the first time in years, I have been dealing with a horrible bout of depression. It feels awful. Miserable. Oppressive. Just as I remember feeling, only it seems ten times worse. I have been doing well for so long that it has become easy to forget how miserable depression is. In fact, recently I’d begun to think that maybe things pre-diagnosis weren’t so bad. Maybe I could get by with less medication, or even take one out of the regimen all together. That’s before the depression hit like a punch in the gut.

I guess I should have seen it coming, but I was rather hopeful that it wouldn’t. Two weeks ago, I went to see my psychiatrist. I know that admitting that I have a psychiatrist puts me on the crazy list, but craziness, after all, is what this blog is all about. My psychiatrist is someone I truly respect and admire. So naturally, when I was having some scary side effects, I went to see him.

The problematic side effects I’d been having were quite troubling. I was having problems with my memory - going to a room and forgetting why I was there or having a conversation and forgetting what I was going to say. At best it was annoying. At worst it was embarrassing. When I explained these problems to my psychiatrist, he mentioned that it would be worthwhile to cut back on one of the meds that I’ve been taking for several years.

With hope, I lowered the dosage of this med and for a full week it seemed that everything would be fine. Then several days ago, out of nowhere, it hit. Depression. Severe Depression. Ouch. I’d been doing so well for so long I’d almost forgotten how it felt. Despite the fact that it would continue to cause those memory lapses, I knew in my heart that I was going to have to go back up on the med. I would rather deal with memory problems than the depression that can set in if I’m not on the right dosages of the proper meds.

One thing this experience did make me think about was how I questioned whether I really needed medication at all. I wonder how many others who take medication for some form of mental illness have felt this way at one point or another. The, oh I’m doing so well, surely I can go off these meds and I’ll be just fine feeling. Newsflash. The reason you’re feeling fine now is because you are on the right meds and the right dosages. Don’t trick yourself into thinking that getting off the meds is the answer to your problems. In my experience, getting of the meds can be your demise.

I would give anything to be medication free - to not have to deal with unpleasant side-effects like memory loss. But I truly feel in my heart and know in my head that meds – the right ones- have made my life as wonderful as I could have hoped for. Don’t go off your meds. Don’t lie to yourself and think you’re strong enough to handle your mental illness without that aid. When I was finally diagnosed, I made a promise to my husband that I would never go off my medications. I’ve kept that promise and it has made my life better for it.

This past episode reminded me how vital it is to be on the right meds and the right dosages. If you’re dealing with a mental illness and you’re not getting the relief you need, go to a doctor. Be your own best advocate. Do what it takes to be happy and healthy. I’m living proof that life on meds, the right ones, can and will make all the difference in the world.