Ok, where am I going with this?
Am I trying to disassociate myself from depression or am I trying to get out of bed first thing in the morning? I have been thinking, again, about why I cannot get started in the morning. Ever since November, I have struggled to begin the day.
If I must get up for work, I ALWAYS do it. That’s why it’s called high-functioning depression.
But that doesn’t mean I am relaxed and alert. By giving myself the exact amount of time I need to get out the door, I do not budget extra time to think about anything. It is: put on the coffee, take a shower, get dressed, finish packing my lunch, pour the coffee into my thermos, grab my keys and water bottle, and head out the door.
There is no time for any deviation from this.
I know that I will be late if I get side-tracked. Or I must make it up by, perhaps, picking the most unwrinkled shirt instead of ironing it. I do pull my shirts out of the dryer as soon as they are finished. I have also, in the past few months, begun to hang them up as they come out of the dryer. This has significantly decreased the amount of ironing I need to do.
I have heard all kinds of reasons why getting out of bed is hard to do.
I have book-marked this article, 22 Things People with Depression Do First Thing in the Morning to Get Out of Bed. And I have gone back to it several times for guidance or ideas about what I can do to get going in the morning.
So far, I have not consistently found anything that is working.
Today, knowing it was my day off, I awoke just before 7 AM. I have gotten to bed around 11 PM last night, and even after playing solitaire for a little bit on my I-Pad, it was only 11:30 PM when I turned the light off. So, getting up 8 hours later should have been OK.
Yet I didn’t get out of bed until several hours later.
READ: I Wish I Could Sleep
I am still groggy and not entirely focused, after being up for an hour. I have gotten my coffee and hung out the birdfeeder. Sitting on the front porch, writing, I have seen many birds at the feeders. Two pairs of geese have flown across the tree line, heading to the lake. They always announce their arrival well in advance.
Back to the 22 things, I have decided that “willing myself” to get up is not the answer for me.
In fact, doing that has had the opposite effect. Not being able to just bounce out of bed, when I think it’s time, has been made me more depressed. The grogginess is not something I have had for the first 63 years of my life. So why is it occurring now?
I have said that getting up issues began with the change in my Prozac last November.
Getting a Psychiatrist to hear that has not been easy. Getting my daily dose decreased from 40 mg to 30 mg of Prozac was a big deal for me. And although I am not a doctor, my body is telling me something is not right. And the one underlying connection is my medication.
Compounding this problem, I have switched Psychiatrists to have one that is in my Insurance Network.
I was having to pay out of pocket for the entire cost of each session. Now I have a tiny co-pay. That sounds great on paper, but I am having trouble finding a Psychiatrist in-network who is accepting new patients. So now, I have no psychiatrist to ask about my medicine.
I can call my General Practitioner; I know he will listen.
But he does not specialize in mental health issues. This means he will write a script for me if it doesn’t seem out of line with conventional medical practices. So, I am back to practicing medicine without a license.
My plan is to get back on the phone tomorrow and track down a Psychiatrist.
I encourage you to read the article above if you are having trouble getting going in the morning. But I caution you that the answer for you may lie elsewhere. That is what I found.
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.If you know someone who might benefit from reading this, please share. And your comments are always appreciated.