Two things are on my mind this morning.
My ability to get out of bed in the morning and a mysterious charge to my checking account. Sometime after I went to bed last night, I was charged $200 for a “Promo-Kit.” The time was 11:20 PM and I was in bed, asleep. I discovered it this morning as I reviewed my account.
I guess I still have some “Jersey” in me, for I look at my checking account almost daily.
I want to know where I stand. And I can catch these rogue charges when they happen. I have not had one in years, but I still check. This is like my new life with depression. I am doing things daily to keep depression out in the open where I can see it and know what it is up to.
Many days, I am still fighting with myself to get going, to get out of bed.
What a waste of time and energy. Well, at least to me it seems like a waste. I should be up and “at-em.” I should be jumping out of bed, my to-do list in my hand, excited to take on the day. That is how most of my adult life has been lived. You only have so many hours in a day, I would say to myself. You must make sure you do everything you can with them, as you will never get them back.
As I learn more about living with depression, I’m not 100% sure this is the best approach.
It doesn’t seem to allow for living in the moment. It doesn’t seem to allow for self-care, unless “self-care” is scheduled and is on the list. I felt guilty the other day for taking a 15-minute cat nap before going out to the Trevor Noah comedy show. GUILTY, with all the stress and anxiety that goes with it.
IT WAS 15 MINUTES!
READ MORE: I am still breaking up with depression
And yet I was all over myself for not getting something else done before the show. What the heck is that all about? Depression is still all over me to stop my distancing myself from it. It feels abandoned and is working overtime to come up with some type of scheme that will lure me back. It just wants to get the hook set, then it can reel me in like a fish on a line.
Getting out of bed these days is causing me stress.
I am overthinking this, though. I am not the same person, doing the same things that I was doing a year ago. Everything about my thoughts and focus is out in the open, subject to scrutiny and examination. And this includes my getting out of bed.
My therapist changed my medication last Thursday.
The link to the increase in my dosage last November and my ability to get out of bed seemed to coincide. Well, at least to me it seemed to make sense. Of course, I am looking for a scapegoat, someone or something to blame my inability to get out of bed upon. If I do that, then I am not required to accept responsibility for my own actions.
I can turn self-advocacy on its head and show how I am the victim.
Well, that is BS. I am not a victim; I am just a guy who has Major Depressive Disorder and is working to understand it so he can live a balanced life. That’s not complicated. Depression should understand that it is nothing personal, “it’s me, not it.”
Well, that’s a load of stuff, too.
It certainly is depression that I am living with and it is a disease that is sneakier than I have given it credit for. But I am learning how it works and is building a strong support system to combat its secretive, unabashedly harmful invitations.
My checkbook will survive this rouge charge.
Once it is posted, versus pending, I can dispute it. It will be OK. Now the getting out of bed situation is still a work in progress. However, I am going to make it a point going forward not to focus a bunch of energy on it. Doing so inflates its importance. The main issue is being alive and living as much in the moment as I can. Worrying about two little things is just a distraction.
I am in control of what I can control and that feels good.
My concealed depression is written under the alias “Depression is not my boss.” I have certifications in SMART Recovery and am a Global Career Development Facilitator.
Last year, I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder.