Tag: depression

Health and Wellness

The Triple Whammy Cure, Quiz Results

Maybe the best thing about reading this book is that it turns out I’m not nuts, not alone, and not too far off on my self-diagnosis.  According to this guy, the so-called “Triple Whammy” is the three-fold life-attack of stress, low serotonin, and hormonal imbalance.  According to the “Just How Messed Up Are You Quiz” at the beginning of the book, I’m moderately to severely screwy.  I actually received some serious comfort when reading the list of possible symptoms and finding most of mine on there.

To name a few:

  • Do you feel like you’ve lost control of something recently in your life?  Hm.  How about my sudden non-contribution to the family finances after having a full time job for the past 5 years?  And every once in a while, my inability to speak (and/or interpret) 4-year old.
  • Have you ever experienced periods of depression?  Not until I got married (hah) and then again just after having children.  Could it be the birth control, pregnancy, post-pardum postpartum roller coaster, Doc?  (Yes, Claire. Yes it could.)  Actually I take that back.  I had exactly two full blown panic attacks the summer before moving to North Carolina, and one more when I was in the woods.  At the time, I blamed Satan.  Now that I know he and estrogen are BFF, I’m not recanting my first finger point.
  • Do you crave carbohydrates, sugar, or chocolate, especially in the days just before your period?  What woman on Earth does not, I ask you.  Especially always.  In fact, just reading the word “chocolate” has me digging through the fridge in search of those leftover brownies from John’s meeting last weekend.  No particular monthly cravings, but certainly cravings within 30 minutes of eating a meal.  All meals.  Always right before bed.
  • Is the week after your period the week when you feel best during a month?  Is that the last time I was happy?  Yes.  I do seem to remember a day several weeks ago when John came home from work that I was actually happy to see him.  It seems so long ago…
  • If you’ve ever given birth, did you experience depression after delivery? Yes.  Both times.  But the first time I didn’t know that’s what it was until I called my mother at 2 in the morning one week and confessed that the thought of dying in my sleep actually provided me some emotional relief.  She advised me to call my doctor, I got some drugs, and for the next several months even the most unruly classes of high school freshman couldn’t faze me or stimulate a reaction whatsoever.  It was when I realized certain favorite foods no longer tasted good, however, that I decided wean myself back off.
  • Do you experience any of the following and with how much regularity?  Fatigue (daily), poor memory (come on, I have kids), unrefreshing sleep (M-F when I have to wake up before 9), overwhelmed (weekly), depressed/anxious (bi-weekly), widespread muscle aches (lower back: I no longer sit down for extended periods of time), brain fog (starts at exactly 4:15 every afternoon), feeling drained (daily), headaches (I wake up with one most mornings), jaw grinding (nightly)...

It wasn’t like I needed a questionnaire to tell me that I’m in a season of physical and emotional unhealthiness, but it has been pretty easy for me to be in denial because my face is not breaking out and I’m not gaining any weight.  In the past, these have been the first two reasons for any desire to alter my eating and activity habits.  With my face in the pillow last night I said to John, “In three weeks, I’m going to like you again.  And I think you’re going to like me.  I just wanted to tell you that I’m doing this for you.”  His response was, “Are you sure you’re depressed?  Depressed people don’t think like that.  Depressed people like hating their lives and everything in them because it feels good.  I think you’re just saying that.”

Sad.  Because, it is sort of true.  But lately, I’ve been picturing myself as a tiny version of me, sitting at a set of controls, deep in my brain, looking out of my eyes like two gigantic spaceship windows.  It is almost as if I cannot actually feel my fingertips, feet, lips, because I’m controlling all my movements from a cockpit way inside my head.  And that miniature little pilot-sized me, is still normal.  And sometimes nice.  “Don’t you want me to like you again?  I mean, not just sometimes.  All the time?”

“Yes,” he said, wearily.  “That would be nice.”

Self-Help

I Was Right All Along

Maybe the best thing about reading this book is that it turns out I’m not nuts, not alone, and not too far off on my self-diagnosis.  According to this guy, the so-called “Triple Whammy” is the three fold life attack of stress, low serotonin, and hormonal imbalance.  According to the “Just How Messed Up Are You Quiz” at the beginning of the book, I’m moderately to severely screwed.  I actually received some serious comfort when reading the list of possible symptoms and finding most of mine on there.

To name a few:

  • Do you feel like you’ve lost control of something recently in your life?  Hm.  How about my sudden non-contribution to the family finances after having a full time job for the past 5 years?  And every once in a while, my inability to speak (and/or interpret) 4-year old.
  • Have you ever experienced periods of depression?  Not until I got married (hah) and then again just after having children.  Could it be the birth control, pregnancy, post-pardum postpartum roller coaster, Doc?  (Yes, Claire.  Yes it could.)  Actually I take that back.  I had exactly two full blown panic attacks the summer before moving to North Carolina, and one more when I was in the woods.  At the time, I blamed Satan.  Now that I know he and estrogen are BFF, I’m not recanting my first finger point.
  • Do you crave carbohydrates, sugar, or chocolate, especially in the days just before your period?  What woman on Earth does not, I ask you.  Especially always.  In fact, just reading the word “chocolate” has me digging through the fridge in search of those leftover brownies from John’s meeting last weekend.  No particular monthly cravings, but certainly cravings within 30 minutes of eating a meal.  All meals.  Always right before bed.
  • Is the week after your period the week when you feel best during a month?  Is that the last time I was happy?  Yes.  I do seem to remember a day several weeks ago when John came home from work that I was actually happy to see him.  It seems so long ago…
  • If you’ve ever given birth, did you experience depression after delivery? Yes.  Both times.  But the first time I didn’t know that’s what it was until I called my mother at 2 in the morning one week and confessed that the thought of dying in my sleep actually provided me some emotional relief.  She advised me to call my doctor, I got some drugs, and for the next several months even the most unruly classes of high school freshman couldn’t faze me or stimulate a reaction whatsoever.  It was when I realized certain favorite foods no longer tasted good, however, that I decided wean myself back off.
  • Do you experience any of the following and with how much regularity?  Fatigue (daily), poor memory (come on, I have kids), unrefreshing sleep (M-F when I have to wake up before 9), overwhelmed (weekly), depressed/anxious (bi-weekly), widespread muscle aches (lower back: I no longer sit down for extended periods of time), brain fog (starts at exactly 4:15 every afternoon), feeling drained (daily), headaches (I wake up with one most mornings), jaw grinding (nightly)...

It wasn’t like I needed a questionnaire to tell me that I’m in a season of physical and emotional unhealthiness, but it has been pretty easy for me to be in denial because my face is not breaking out and I’m not gaining any weight.  In the past, these have been the first two reasons for any desire to alter my eating and activity habits.  With my face in the pillow last night I said to John, “In three weeks, I’m going to like you again.  And I think you’re going to like me.  I just wanted to tell you that I’m doing this for you.”  His response was, “Are you sure you’re depressed?  Depressed people don’t think like that.  Depressed people like hating their lives and everything in them because it feels good.  I think you’re just saying that.”

Sad.  Because, it is sort of true.  But lately, I’ve been picturing myself as a tiny version of me, sitting at a set of controls, deep in my brain, looking out of my eyes like two gigantic spaceship windows.  It is almost as if I cannot actually feel my fingertips, feet, lips, because I’m controlling all my movements from a cockpit way inside my head.  And that miniature little pilot-sized me, is still normal.  And sometimes nice.  “Don’t you want me to like you again?  I mean, not just sometimes.  All the time?”

“Yes,” he said, wearily.  “That would be nice.”

Health and Wellness

The Triple Whammy Cure

As a life-long journaler, I would consider myself to be above average in my pursuit of mental stability and self-awareness.  Weirdly (or not), in the amount of time I’ve been writing this blog, I’ve done little to no personal journaling.  I’ve also desperately attempted to avoid posting any overly emotional and seemingly pointless updates on the status of my ever fluctuating moods (on which I’ve been blaming hormones) unless it made for a particularly entertaining story that was likely to produce a laugh, if nothing else.  There are a couple of reasons for my avoidance of journalistic, introspective, emotional blogging.  First, I’ve re-read many of my journals, too many of them fraught with such entries.  For the most part, I’m amazed at (1.) how many of my feelings haven’t changed, just transferred to new life circumstances, (2.) how pitiful these journals make me sound and (3.) how beyond boring they are to read, even for me, who wrote them.

About a month ago, an old friend emailed to say he’s been reading my blog.  At some point in the email he mentioned that I’ve become one of those “Mommy Bloggers” he’s heard about and despite the fact that absolutely nothing in his life parallels mine, he was enjoying reading anyway.  This guy is not married, has no children, and currently lives and works in Africa on a long-term sustainable living project.  How does he know the term Mommy Blogger, and I don’t?  (My first reaction was, “Wait a minute.  There’s a name for this?  Oh that’s it, I’m shutting her down.”)  Instead, I did what any self-respecting Wi-Fi savvy individual would do.  I Googled it.  To my astonishment, it seems everyone in the world is a writer, which brings me to reason numbers two and three.  If everyone else is doing it, then what makes me and my emotions so special?  And, apparently not only is this Mommy Blogger thing real, but the majority of the women doing it (and many of them making money at it, or so I’m told) consistently write about, you guessed it, depression.

That.  In itself.  Is depressing.

And, you know me.  I hate trends, unless I’m so late to join them they are already out of style again.

But if there is one thing I love (and rarely admit to other humans) it is a good self-help book.  This fact, and my secret desire to own every Oprah episode (post 1998) on DVD when she finally ends her show, are two things on which I’d rather not be personally judged.  As for the depression thing, well, I’m beginning to believe it is far less of a trend (especially among women) and more of an epidemic.  And so, against my better judgment, I’m embarking on a seasonal focus.  Pre-school ends in a week and a half.  This means my summer officially begins on May 27th, and I am determined to get a few things under control without the use of drugs, cigarettes, excessive alcohol, and/or domestic violence.

What I’m reading is The Triple Whammy Cure (David Edelberg, MD), a recommendation by a particularly nutty natural friend of mine, who speaks from a few more years of life experience and several more years of utilizing alternatives to Western medicine.  In short, if something in this book was going to kill or otherwise seriously harm me, this woman would already be dead.  I’m taking this as my green light, and inching forward today.

So this serves as your one, only, and final written warning.  Though I do not plan to publish my every thought during next few weeks or months, I’ll likely be updating in the form of something a little more serious than the original direction of The UnderToad.  Rather than coming to me (or worse, emailing) and saying my blog has taken a particularly boring turn, just stop reading for a little while.  I can’t promise that there won’t be some Eliott/Carter gems intermixed that you’re likely to miss, but if you are of the “I’m already on the verge of annoyed with this thing,” variety, then take the summer off and come back when my serotonin levels are high and I’m sure to be on a roll of nothing but laughter-fest.  Joke after joke.  Labor Day.  Until then…