Depression, anxiety, and Disney/Pixar

My husband and I can rarely agree on a movie to go see, which I suppose is alright since movies are so damn expensive!
Anyway, my birthday was this past Friday and I took a long weekend off of work.  I mainly took today (Monday) since husband’s and my work schedules are so different that a real ‘date day’ hasn’t happened in a few months.  I used the leverage that it was my birthday to get him to go see Inside Out with me.

This movie… guys.  THIS MOVIE.

I make no secret out of the fact that I struggle with depression and anxiety.  The ebb and flow of it all can vary, but it’s a part of who I am and it’s something I have learned to deal with to the best of my abilities.  The worst part of it, for me, is trying to tell other people or explain to them what it is like to live with mental illness.  Because they can’t see it and I ‘don’t look sick’ I must be fine.  Because I smile, I must not be “that” depressed.  Because I go out to work every day and sometimes go out with friends there is “no way” I have severe anxiety.  I wish it was that easy.  But the fact is there are times where the depression and/or anxiety is so crippling that I can’t get out of bed.  If it’s a day I have to work I literally wish that I would drop dead on the spot so I didn’t have to endure the day.  Thankfully, days that are like that are few and far between – but they do happen.

I am lucky in that the people in my life that I trust the most know my struggle.  Many of them get it.  I have a support system that is amazing.  But all of that still doesn’t change the fact that what I deal with on a daily basis is often blown off by others because they don’t get it and/or can’t see it.

Cue the film Inside Out.
Eleven year old Riley was just moved from her hometown to another state with her family.  At first she handles it just fine but quickly that ‘fine’ veneer starts to crack and she starts to crumble.  The exceptional part of this film?  It’s told from the main emotions in the ‘headquarters’ of Riley’s brain.  I won’t go into much detail to avoid spoiling it for anyone who hasn’t seen it but wants to… but for most of Riley’s life Joy has held the reins.  Anger, Disgust, Fear, and Sadness are there as well but in smaller portions as Joy wants to keep Riley happy.  However Sadness accidentally touches some core memories and turns them from joy to sad… and thus begins an adventure that brought tears not only to my eyes, but to my husband’s as well.

For those of us who struggle with mental illness the idea that sadness is important to the self is a no brainier… but the character of Joy doesn’t see that.  She thinks that all sadness does is mess things up… and it’s heartbreaking to watch how rude she can be in the name of keeping Riley “happy”.  By the end it is realized that all the emotions have a place and are needed and that sadness doesn’t have to be a negative emotion.

As I watched the movie I realized quickly that we were watching Riley fall into a deep depression.  Each of us who struggle have our own story of how it started, and for me it had nothing to do with being moved from my hometown… but the descent was the same.

The idea of the personality islands and what happens to them as Riley descends into depression was spot on for what happens in our lives when depression sets in.  The idea of how memories are stored and how the emotions work was beautifully done.  This movie captures what it is to be depressed in a way that is accessible to everyone – children to adults and all done in a family friendly PG-rated format.

I cannot say enough good things about this film, especially when looked at from a mental health standpoint.

Spoonie.

Today was a big day, y’all.  I got my first tattoo.  And, to make it even more special two of my dearest friends were there with me and got tattoos as well.  We all got spoon tattoos.

Spoons?  What?!
Yes, spoons.

Let me start at the beginning, at least for my story.  I’m sure you’ll read this and wonder what the hell it has to do with spoons… but hang in there, it’ll all make sense soon.
I am 32 years old (nearly 33) and live daily with chronic, invisible illnesses that are both physical and mental.  From my teenage years I struggled with depression.  Anxiety came along for the ride when I was in college.  When I was 18 (my first year of college) I had emergency surgery to remove my appendix, when they cut me open it turned out my appendix was fine but I had a huge cyst on my ovary that was pushing all of my organs out of the way.  After many years of cysts and other not so pleasant issues, I was finally diagnosed with PCOS in July of 2009.  In my mid to late 20’s I started to notice that I always hurt.  I started to have sleep issues.  I honestly didn’t think much of it at first.  Then, it just became a part of my life… I didn’t think much about it until I started having severe chest pain in February 2014.  I went to my doctor who said it was costochondritis (an inflammation of the cartilage that connects a rib to the breast bone).  Since it was a new thing for me my doctor asked questions and checked some pressure points.  He told me he felt something wasn’t right and wanted to rule out RA and Lupus.  So I had plenty of blood drawn.  A few days later he called me to tell me that,thankfully, I did NOT have RA or Lupus.  However my blood showed a very high level of the marker for inflammation and he was positive I had fibromyalgia based on my symptoms and that blood test.

So, here we are.  I’m sick. I don’t generally say that, but it is what it is.  I spend my days fighting for my health in ways not many can understand.  I am always tired.  I always hurt.  I can have really bad days. Each flare is different – I never know what fun symptoms will pop up or how a fibro flare may affect my body to cause issues with my other illnesses. I have moments where I get so frustrated that I don’t have a ‘normal’ body that does what it’s supposed to. I sometimes take my pain and frustration out on those closest to me, but I never intend to.  I keep a lot of it to myself with those outside of my close circle for various reasons.
The real bitch? I usually don’t “look” sick, which throws a lot of people off and even has led to people saying that I’m not really sick or that I just need to “suck it up”. Those words hurt and they make fighting with my own body even harder at times because when I struggle I fear speaking up because I don’t want to be looked at in *that* way.  The way people look at others that they don’t believe or, even worse, pity.

So, what do spoons have to do with all of this?

In doing my research on fibro I came across But You Don’t Look Sick.com where  Christine Miserandino wrote this amazing piece on what it is to be a spoonie, that is someone who lives with an illness that is chronic and often times invisible.  We don’t look sick, but we are.   The idea is that we start each day with a limited number of spoons and each activity we do costs us spoons.  Some days, often times many days, we run out of spoons before our day is done.  We have to think long and hard before we do something out of the norm for us.  Sometimes it can take days to fully recover from even something as seemingly simple as a shopping trip.

So, I am a spoonie.  I measure my days in spoons the way a person would count out spoons for a fancy dinner party to assure they have enough for everyone.  Some days are fantastic and full of energy, but often times and especially as of late, I can barely get myself to do what HAS to be done (work things, school work) let alone things that should be done (cleaning my house, cooking healthy meals).  In my case it seems like my list is linked together in some way… both PCOS and Fibro can cause depression and anxiety.  There are small studies that have shown a link between chronic pain illnesses and endocrine disorders (such as PCOS).

It’s not easy to live with a chronic illness of any type.  I’d imagine it’s not easy to live with someone who has a chronic illness, either.  My husband and good friends should be canonized as saints for dealing with me.  Seriously.

(image is my spoon tattoo taken right after it was completed)

So, aside from showing support for the spoonie community we got our spoon tattoos so that we will always and forever have an extra spoon when needed.

I am absolutely in love with mine.  I also think I have opened a crazy new obsession – tattoos.

(image is a collage of tattoos done today – my two friends and myself)

I was always bad in chemistry.

I have many topics I want to share with y’all – but today’s is personal and a bit heavy.  So, please, bear with me.

As I lay in bed in the middle of the day, again, staring blankly at the ceiling the truth of things hit me hard.  I’m depressed, again.  Screw you, brain chemistry.

I think a lot of it has to do with trying to figure out how to cope with living inside a body that won’t work the way it is supposed to.  Between the fibromyalgia and the PCOS I feel like my body can’t do anything ‘right’.  The fact I am still not pregnant kills me.  The fact that no matter what I do lately weight loss won’t happen is upsetting.  The fact that my body hurts so bad at times, for no obvious reason, that I just want to cry is beyond frustrating.

Overall, my life is pretty great.  I have a loving husband.  A job I enjoy, and working toward a higher education to do even better in that department.  We have a roof over our heads and food in the pantry.  I have access to ‘extras’ that while they seem basic to me, I know not everyone can afford them.  But, things aren’t how I always pictured they would be… and it isn’t a bad thing in most cases… but sometimes when life doesn’t match the beautiful picture that has been painted in your head it can get to a person.

Depression and anxiety have been near constant companions for me for most of my adult years, and before.  I have times where things are really really good and times when they are awful – thankfully the truly awful rock bottom is a place I only have been to one time.  A good portion of the time things are fairly even keeled.  I have coping tools that help me when things are really bad – as I really dislike medication, mainly because one hasn’t ‘worked’ for me and most have awful side effects.  I know not the best excuses in the world – but here we are.

I’m an avid reader, that’s nothing new.  I enjoy mental health memoirs, I always have.  I think a good part of that is being able to strong identify with the author and/or main subject in the stories.  Realizing that the thoughts I have aren’t all that ‘crazy’ and that I am, in fact, not alone.  There is comfort in knowing you aren’t alone, even if you don’t know the person who shares in your turmoil.  Misery does love company, after all.

In a lot of those books they focus on how deep into it they felt – not being able to get out of bed, shower, or basically do anything.  I completely get that.  I feel like there is this… part of my brain that somehow functions under depressive conditions.  This part is what keeps me getting up, getting dressed, pulling forty hours a week at work, and doing all of the other life things I have to do.  If that part ever totally shorts out, I am beyond screwed.  I don’t know why it works even at the worst of times… but somehow, something keeps me moving forward.  Barely, at times, but I’m thankful for even that.

Honestly?  I’m not sure why I even felt the need to write this.  I generally keep these things to myself.  But with the stress of school, work, and life in general I figured maybe writing would be cathartic.  That maybe, for even a few minutes, by putting words onto the screen something may make more sense.