Monday, November 05, 2018

Latina Equal Pay Day 2018

November 1, 2018 was the second annual Latina Equal Pay Day. Before last week I didn't know that Latinas earn less than not only white men, but white women. In fact, while white women get 79 cents for every dollar a white man makes, Latinas get 53 cents. Son of a b#$%^. According to the graphic below, we earn less than every other group based on race/culture.

I got these graphics through the Latina Equal Pay website and you can, too.





The reason Latina Equal Pay Day is on November 1st is that, for instance, only on November 1, 2018 does a Latina finish earning what a white man earned in 2017.

The next graphic absolutely infuriates me. At the age of 52, I'm increasingly aware of all the money I should have earned by now, but didn't. I've been in the workforce for 26 years and have much less to show for it than a lot of white men of similar age, education and ability. 

And I don't have a graphic for it, but the biggest wage gap between white men and Latinas is among white men and Latinas who have masters and PhD degrees.  That includes me. F@#!

But here's what you can do. And I regret that I didn't post on this before November first.


And one last one to make you think about what would happen if Latina domestic workers in the U.S. just stopped working.


If you're not angry right now, I doubt you and I could be friends.

Saturday, November 03, 2018

"I'm sorry I tried to kill myself"

When someone tries to end their life, but it doesn't work and they end up in the hospital, one thing they often say is "I'm sorry." But is that really necessary? What are they apologizing for? Having a mind distorted by mental illness? Being a screw-up?

When it comes to a suicide survivor and a person who had a heart attack, I don't think there's any more reason for the first person to apologize than there is for the second. A heart attack survivor might want to apologize for worrying family or inconveniencing co-workers, but such an apology would be brushed away as unnecessary because you can't blame someone for their own heart attack.

Believe it or not (and most won't), but someone whose mental illness symptoms led them to try to kill him/herself is just as blameless for their actions. Mental illness is an illness of the mind. It robs you of reason, clear perception and attachment to reality. I want so much for people to understand this that I'm going put that in a pull quote:


Mental illness is an illness of the mind. It robs you of reason, clear perception and attachment to reality.


When I stare at a handful of pills and wonder how many it would take to stop my heart permanently, the state of my mind determines if I pour them back into the bottle or start swallowing. If enough of my mind is free from the delusional thinking that characterizes mental illness, I put them back. But if my mind were 100% caught up in the mental illness symptom of wanting to die, I'd start swallowing

If I woke up in the hospital, I'd probably feel overwhelming amounts of shame, humiliation and self-loathing. Those feelings would probably lead me to say "I'm sorry" to friends and family and I might say it over and over again, but I wouldn't just be apologizing for their worry and inconvenience. I'd be apologizing for existing, for being a loser, for not being a totally different person, and for having been born at all.

The general beliefs about suicide add to the shame load of people who try it. In fact, our beliefs that suicide is the coward's way out and that it's selfish infuriate me.

Suicide is cowardly: this belief rests on the premise that people thoughtfully weigh suicide as a choice against other options. This belief imagines a process like this: "I'll never be able to live down the humiliation of XYZ. Or could it get better? No, I can't do it. I'll have to never leave my house again. Or I could move away and start my life over. Or I could hang myself with this curtain cord here. Let's see....which option seems best?"

Suicide is selfish: this belief similarly contains the idea that people reasonably consider the impact of their act on others, but choose themselves, maybe like this: "I can't take the pain anymore. I can't go on like this. But wait: how would my children live without their father? That would be so hard. How could I do that to them? And my wife would be heartbroken forever. Not to mention all my friends. This would really, really hurt a lot of people. Plus everyone would have to live with the knowledge that they weren't able to help me and those feelings can last forever. But I'm tired of living and I don't feel like it anymore, so fuck 'em."

No one with suidical ideation thinks in these ways! We aren't rationally weighing pros and cons. We don't stop caring about people we've always cared deeply about. Let's review: mental illness robs you of reason, clear perception and attachment to reality. To reach the point of killing ourselves, our brain chemistry is so screwed up that we aren't capable of rationally considering anything. Even the idea that a baby daughter will have to grow up without her dad can be cancelled out by the idea that a wife will find another husband and the baby daughter will get a better dad.

There is nothing rational about suicide, so let's stop criticizing it as if we're evaluating someone who chose to quit their job. It's actually the height of irrationality for people to respond to a suicide with, "She killed herself? That's insane! How could she leave her children behind like that?" Can you see the hypocrisy there? People acknowledge that suicide is a crazy, insane thing to do, but also expect the person to have rationally weighed the effect of her death on others. 


No suicide survivor owes anyone an apology. They have an illness that they are no more responsible for than someone who has a stroke. An apology would actually be much more appropriate coming from the family, co-workers or friends who contributed to the survivor's breakdown, but I guess that doesn't happen.

Friday, September 28, 2018

10yr anniversary of a 5yr marriage

Yesterday was the 10-year anniversary of the day we celebrated our wedding. My husband and I got married on one day and had the reception six months later. For some reason the 10-year anniversary of the wedding ceremony didn't hit me as hard last March, but today I feel sad about the marriage that started so promisingly and then died.

Possibly one of the main reasons we got married was that we were in our 40's and tired of being alone. I believe a big part of what determines who you marry is who's around at the time you decide you're ready to be a wife or husband. I finally decided I was ready to Be Married in January 2008 and my now-ex-husband was the next person who asked me to dinner.

We were a good match in many ways. His buoyancy balanced my moodiness and we agreed on all things day-to-day. We never had any conflict about how we organized our household or our daily schedules, what kind of food we kept in the kitchen, or what we did on vacations and in our free time. We had complete agreement on not wanting kids and how often we saw family and what we did with our money. He completely supported me taking time for my girlfriends and therapy and unconventional health treatments. I never gave him a second of pushback on his heavy smoking and crazy work schedule.

It's possible we could have lasted a long time if it weren't for my mental illness. Of course I told him about it early in our dating months and he experienced my moods before we moved in together. I suspect he believed the love of a good man would cure my chronic depression and I'd pull out of my emotional behavior with his influence. Instead, my depressed months continued to come and go. He did his best to cope by being patient with me and he even -- for a few months -- attended a support group for family members of people living with mental illness.

But instead of being patient with an illness he understood had no cure, I think he was being patient while he waited for me to get cured. While we put lots of effort into understanding and managing my depression, things changed and they never got better. By the time I stopped ignoring how much they'd changed and talked him into marriage counseling it was too late. This has left me with a jaded view of marriage counseling because by the time someone stops fooling herself and decides it's time to get professional help, things are probably too far gone.

Still my husband's announcement that he couldn't "do this anymore" blindsided me as I guess those things usually do. Considering that most divorces are initiated by the wife, I guess being dumped by my husband should make me feel bad, but it doesn't. Instead I believe it gives me the moral high ground: I didn't give up; he did. Also by giving up, my ex-husband freed me to go back to living on my own and being myself again. I'd lived alone for 12 years before we moved in together, so returning to that felt natural and comfortable.

It still does. In fact, living alone feels so natural and comfortable that I suspect I'm not the marrying kind. I certainly don't have it as a goal to get re-married. But that doesn't mean I don't want another relationship. I wish I could find another man with whom to practice friendship, love, intimacy, boredom, conflict and compromise.

But I don't have a good track record and I feel like a bad horse to bet on. I wonder if some of us just don't have the skills to even practice good intimacy and comfortable relationships that have happiness as well as pain. I wonder of some of us just languish in the attic of our lives and feel grateful for the love and affection we get from our platonic relationships.
Bob and Regina, 27 Sept 2008

When I look back on my marriage, I feel sorry for both of us. We were so relieved and happy to have found the bond we'd been waiting for. We delighted in each other's company and we laughed a lot. While it was good, it was very, very good: he was my favorite person and I was his. We expected to never have to spend another holiday or vacation alone. We had finally found the home we'd been longing for.

The marriage was over in five years and now more time than that has passed since its end. I can only hope it wasn't my last chance to practice relationship (or his).

Thursday, September 13, 2018

Waiting for weight to wane

(Following up on this post.)

I've been trying to lose weight ever since I became fat in 2013. In my last post, I wrote about working with a natural health practitioner (Claire Boye-Doe of Gnosis Natural Health), who said my healing process had a spiritual element (ugh!). She told me to see a shaman to keep my healing process going. 

Apparently it worked. Claire has told me that I don't need to see the shaman anymore. The health problem Claire sees as the reason for many of my health problems, including my fatness, is almost cured, and she foresees that my ability to lose weight will improve and the weight should keep coming off steadily.
Okay, I'm ready.

I say "keep coming off" because I have started to lose a little bit in the past couple of weeks. I made a decision in August to stop snacking and to reduce the amount of food I have at mealtimes. I have -- of course -- done similar food reduction before, but those times I felt so deprived and punished, that I went back to my old ways. What's new here isn't that I'm eating less and allowing myself to feel hunger, but that I'm doing it without feelings of deprivation and anger and self-punishment. This definitely feels new. Did the shaman remove some of my heavy feelings about food and hunger? Or some of my self-loathing?

I don't know, but I do know that I'm still good and fat for now. We'll see if losing weight really does get easier or not.

Wednesday, August 15, 2018

How do I stop the pain?

I run a depression support group Meetup and this week we talked about ways to treat depression other than with medication. I've happily been on anti-depressants since 2010, so I'm not knocking meds, but I wanted to talk about what else might be possible.

We talked about making art, keeping a journal, cognitive behavioral therapy and dialectical behavioral therapy. And then I made a little speech about two practitioners I've been working with.

On this blog I've written about Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT) and Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR), which got me very far in unearthing some of my worst habits and negative beliefs. That was between 2010 and 2015. They got me through my marriage, divorce, and the (life and) death of my mother.

But the depression stayed. Then in the winter of 2016 I met a nutrition response testing practitioner who claimed she was excellent at treating chronic problems. I had some physical symptoms that were bugging the hell out of me, so I started seeing her. It turned out that in my first six months of seeing Claire Boye-Doe, of Gnosis Natural Health, she did take care of my irritating problems: digestion trouble, low blood iron levels, and pica -- which in my case was an insatiable desire to chew ice. (I was buying those party bags of ice at 7-Eleven and crunching through them in days. I don't know how I didn't lose a tooth.)

In about six months Claire got rid of my pica, got my blood iron level up and greatly improved my digestion. I was so impressed by Claire's success that I kept seeing her for an even bigger problem: my fatness. Welp, that challenge has kept me and Claire together to this day. We're still working on the weight, but a year ago Claire said that as my body detoxified and got in balance, my depression would improve.
Rosemary is currently my essential oil of choice

Yeah, right. How could herbal supplements, homeopathic remedies, essential oils and tweaks to my diet make my brain no longer want to kill me? 
I didn't believe her. 

As readers of this blog might remember, 2017 was a horrible year for my depression, but in 2018 it has gotten remarkably better. The change is so clear I suspect I was wrong to write off Claire's remedies. A combination of working with her on the overall health of my body and using anti-depressants finally got me where I am now: able to go into depression and come back out in days, not weeks or months. I still have depressive episodes, but they're much shorter and not as bleak as before. Most of the time I have no problem getting out of bed. I smile and enjoy being around others. I can focus and get things done. My depression is a much smaller presence in my life and I'm SO grateful! I'm grateful to Claire, to myself for sticking with her, and grateful in general that life doesn't suck every day.

Back to my fatness. Several months ago Claire identified the underlying problem and has been treating it, but apparently there's a spiritual component to it. What? Who ever heard of a physical problem having a spiritual component? I'm an atheist who wants nothing to do with spirituality!

Okay, if the reader will stick with me, I'll describe how I stuck with Claire even though this really sounded crazy. Claire recommended that I see a woman who works with energy. To be blunt: she's a shaman. Yes, Joan Levergood of Helping Spirits is part of the tradition of shamanic healers who pound drums and shake maracas. Ohh-kay.

Apparently a shaman can tap into energies that cause problems. You might have people energetically draining you or you might have a deeply entrenched belief which Joan can uncover and release. There might be attachments to events in your past or the influence of dead family members. It might be a past life that's the source of a problem or ancestors who never crossed over into The Light. There's no telling what could be causing your physical pain or bad relationships or poverty or obesity, but a shaman is one resource that might get you closer to the life you want. 

Do I really believe all that? Nope. But I've never let my lack of understanding stop me from trying a healing approach. I don't know how plants turn sunlight into food either, but the end result is still good for me.

It's early days in working with Joan, but I've already had results that make me feel more powerful in my daily interactions with others. So if Claire thinks this will lead to better health for me, so be it. I'll keep seeing Joan the Shaman, at least for a while.

I've tried all the usual things to lose weight (diet, exercise, positive affirmations, visualization, self-hypnosis, etc). Why not try this? Maybe you'd say "Because you look like a damn fool, Regina, seeing a shaman, for god's sake." Well, looking like a damn fool rarely stops me from doing things, so I'm going with it for now. For me, looking stupid just isn't a good enough reason to stop doing something that might turn out well for me. 

That's how I came to believe that there are more treatments for chronic depression than medication, talking to therapists, and trying to manage your thoughts/emotions with CBT or DBT. Americans are illogically fixated on only those medical treatments that scientists have developed or proven in the past 100 years. (Humans have existed for about 200,000 years. How much sense does it make to only trust knowledge that was documented in the past few hundred years?) Of course, since Americans don't believe in ancient forms of healing, alternative treatments are rarely covered by insurance. You have to really want them because they require an open mind, the ability to pay out-of-pocket and a hell of a lot of patience and commitment.
Next post on this topic: Waiting for weight to wane.

Tuesday, August 14, 2018

I'm bored

If any friends or family follow this blog as a way of seeing how I'm doing, I'm fine. I can't explain the four-month gap between posts except that maybe I didn't feel like blogging because I felt okay. I blog more when I'm unhappy, I think. Maybe that's typical of bloggers.

I dreamt the other night that I was telling someone that my life was extremely dull, and in the dream it was. I did the exact same thing every day with no pleasure at all. When I woke up I felt relieved that my life isn't really like that. I take pleasure in seeing friends, hobbies such as reading novels and hosting parties, and interacting with people at the coworking space I manage. I mildly enjoy the work I do. I wouldn't say my life is intolerably dull.

But there's not a lot going on either. In fact, I can see the rut coming up ahead. I recently added a second business to my attempts to earn a living. I call it Content Conductor and through it I help small businesses and entrepreneurs with their content. I write blog posts, post to social media, do research, edit and proofread. These are tasks I enjoy because I'm an extremely detail-oriented person who hates mistakes. And I particularly detest mistakes with words. (Please tell me if you ever see any mistakes or typos in my posts on this blog!)

My heart is really much more with Welcome Dialogue, my American culture coaching business, but that has yet to bring in much income. It seems easier to find clients who want to pay me for content work they can do themselves, but just don't want to. Isn't that how it goes? People are willing to pay others for things they can very well do themselves, but just don't feel like doing. 
The chin of boredom.

Without depression pulling me down, I go along through my days. I do some work, I manage the coworking space, I read a book, I get some sleep. I see friends and host events in my home. Blah, blah, blah.


I guess I'm bored. I'm bored with my life. I don't know if I've felt this way very much. What has plagued me in the past has been depression, or too much drama in my personal relationships, or big challenges I just can't get through. Well, I still have those challenges, but now they bore me, too (money, weight, whatever). So I'm just bored. 

I'm even bored writing this post! It's hard to believe anyone will read it all the way through. Maybe it would be better to go back to not posting. 

Tuesday, April 10, 2018

The depressive episodes shorten

My depressions usually last for months or weeks, and in the past it's been years. Earlier this year I had a depression that lasted for six weeks, but since then I've had two episodes that were much shorter: a week at the end of March, and one day this past weekend.

Does a shorter cycle mean my medication is taking effect? My psychiatrist adjusted it a few months ago. I've never gone down and then back to normal so frequently. But if this is how it gradually disappears, so be it!

My Depression Meetup is going strong on Monday nights in Rogers Park. It helps me a lot and I'm grateful for the friends I've made there. Building a true friendship takes time, but I think I'm on my way with a couple of people in the group. It's extremely valuable to be friends with people who also struggle with depression. When I tell them my symptoms are back they aren't as likely to give advice or rush to help (although sometimes they do, to my annoyance). My depressive friends also don't feel guilty that they can't make my depression go away. They usually understand that telling someone I'm depressed isn't asking for help per se. It's just reaching out for support and someone to listen. When I'm in depression, mostly what I need is to just know they're there. 

Also, my friends and acquaintances who actively manage depression don't get tired of me saying I'm depressed, as people without depression can. I'm very glad I started that Meetup.

I wish I could say that sitting in the Meetup always makes me feel better, but sometimes I sit there feeling angry that so many of us suffer this way. It's so unfair, especially since mental illness doesn't get the support and attention that physical illnesses get. We can't be cured, so I want to wave my arm and wipe us all out to end our pain. But we're just a tiny group of strugglers. The world is full of people in pain with mental illness. It feels like an overwhelming nightmare.

I'm not depressed today. My symptoms are gone for now. But I still feel the unfairness of people having to live with these handicaps. All I can do is keep plugging along, and if I can help someone else just for a few minutes, so much the better. And that's really all there is.

Friday, March 30, 2018

Tippett responded!

Even though my review of a podcast on depression wasn't favorable, I tweeted it and tagged the host, Krista Tippett, and the show itself, On Being. And Tippett responded! 



This is great, although I'm not sure what she means by "it often works this cyclical way." Does she mean depression or her show? I'm kidding, but it seems that even with my Ivy League masters degree in English literature, I'm just not smart enough for this show, or even tweets about this show - ha ha!

But I really appreciate Tippett taking the time to read my blog. It's like she took time to talk with the people.

Wednesday, March 28, 2018

It's back, but Crystal Chan kinda helped

I didn't even get one month before the depression came back. It rolled back over me on Monday and as hard as I've been trying to pretend "as if," I can't stop it. The twelve step programs advocate "fake it til you make it." Act the way you wish you were and eventually you'll really be that way. I'm not doing it very well with this disease. I'm doing a slow slide down into it.

Why is it so bad now? Why does it seem like in the past two years my depression has developed into a real pattern of on-again-off-again with completely sporadic periods and pauses? Is it about middle age? Is it about --- actually, I can't think of anything else that has changed about my life in the past two years.

Yes, my psychiatrist increased my meds. I've been doing increased exercise, decreased junk food; more fish oil, less dairy. I just don't know anymore. I just know it's back and I want to scream.

My friend Crystal sent me a link to Krista Tippett's On Being podcast. This episode is called "The Soul in Depression" and it aired on March 22, 2018. Three writers and experts discuss depression with her, and after listening to the whole thing my initial reaction is, "Wha-a-a-a?" Tippett mentions that she has experienced major depression, as have all of her guests, so it surprised me that whatever they said, she agreed with. Then again, she probably has the radio interviewer's focus, vocabulary and accommodating approach.

Andrew Solomon talks about depression in the second person (saying "you" instead of "I") which did not work for me at all. He describes his depression as "to be afraid and overwhelmed all the time," which isn't how I describe my depression. He says things like "You lose the sense of the inevitability of your own being alive," and referrs to "the profundity of the inner self." Huh?

Solomon also mentions that depression makes it hard to eat. I have never, ever had trouble eating through even my worst depressions. Tippett calls her depression symptoms "classic" and includes that she lost weight. Lost weight? That's a problem? I have wished SO many times that my depressions caused weight loss. I find several of their statements alienating because they don't apply to me and make me feel like I'm doing depression wrong.

Tippett asks Solomon to explain the statement in his book, "Depression is the flaw in love." He says love can't exist without a bunch of other emotions, like fear of loss. Part of loving someone is to feel sad when you lose them, so a range of emotion that includes great sadness and great pain is necessary for love. He identifies severe depression as an overactivity at the sadness/pain end of the emotional spectrum, but says that without those emotions, we couldn't have intimacy.

Um. Okay. So that's just a new way of saying that if we were never sad, we wouldn't be able to feel happiness. I resent Solomon's explanation because I've had plenty of depression (sadness and pain) in my life, but not so much love, so clearly being in this overactive state doesn't increase one's likelihood of experiencing the other end of it. So what good is this model? It has nothing for me.

Tippett's third guest, Anita Barrows, talks about depression as a spiritual place where there is "ripening" and "quieting." Quiet I get, but "ripening?"

Barrows at one point starts to say "the depressed mood," then stops and complains about the word and how "it's taken on so many rotten connotations." I assume she means the word "depressed," but I'm not sure what rotten connotations she's complaining about. She says she wants to "redeem it from the medical and the clinical." I really need an explanation of these comments.

Parker Palmer, the second guest, is much easier to understand, and he disagrees -- as does Tippett and her other guests -- with the Judeo-Christian belief that there's nobility or godliness in suffering. Good. But then near the end of the program, Tippett hypothesizes that depression can yield maturity, insight and a bigger soul and Barrows agrees. And there it is, the idea that there's some benefit to major depression, some payoff that makes it all worth it: the horrible days, the medication side effects, the broken marriage, the time in hospitals, the bills and knowing there's no cure and this is just how my life is.

The idea that depression leads to greater insight and compassion is nice, but I expect it's rare. I think most depressives just live with their disease, never getting the treatment they truly need and self-medicating with things like alcohol. And after they die, no one even knows they had depression. But Tippett is ever optimistic on her weekly podcast and it was a good note to end on.

On Being airs on National Public Radio (it's on Tuesdays at 9 p.m. and Sundays at 7 a.m. on Chicago's WBEZ) and its audience is probably able to keep up with its ideas and vocabulary, but for me Solomon was too intellectual and Barrows too poetic. I felt angry when the program reminded me that many depressives get skinnier and suggested that depressives live fuller lives that make (some of) us better people. It also just irritated me when I didn't know what they were talking about (the inevitability of your own being alive?).

Maybe this program would make more sense if I weren't depressed and exhausted. Or maybe I'm not even the audience for this. It's possible this discussion is for people who don't have depression, which would explain why they talk in such intellectual and poetic terms. Palmer is the one who speaks in the language of emotions and bodily experience. It's like his is the segment for those of us who actually have depression while Solomon and Barrows are for those who want to understand it.

Anyway, while the parts that upset me made me cry, analyzing and blogging about it has made me feel calm. So thanks to Krista Tippett and to Crystal who sent me the link.

NOTE: I tweeted my post and Tippett tweeted back!



Sunday, March 11, 2018

And then one day!

My depression lifted! I'm SO grateful. Last Tuesday I went to one of my part-time jobs managing a co-working space, and when I started interacting with people I noticed that I felt like smiling for the first time in weeks. In the next moment I noticed that I felt lighter and I knew the depression had gone back into remission. 

It feels so good to come out of a depressive episode! Not everyone's depression comes and goes, but mine does. It's definitely cyclic, but a big problem is that I don't know what causes it to come back or what causes it to go away again. It's mysterious and frustrating and I've tried to track my sleep and diet and habits, but no pattern has emerged.

That episode lasted six weeks, during which tasks piled up on my to-do list because I just didn't have the motivation to do them. In the last four days I've started doing them and I'm struck by how completely different my energy and motivation are when I'm not depressed. How can I feel so different when nothing has changed about my schedule or food or exercise or sleep? Depression baffles.

Looking back on the posts I wrote when I was in depression (this, this and this) shows me again that depression really is a form of madness and not at all just a feeling of being down. It really causes a detachment from reality and shifts my whole view of myself and the world and life. Or maybe it doesn't change my view, but it changes how I feel about my view. Two weeks ago I hopelessly believed my life wasn't in my power to improve and it would be best to die early. Today I still believe most things about my life aren't in my power to improve, but not all of them, and that's perfectly okay. I still think it would be best for me to die early, but I can smile while I say that and shrug and not feel bad about it. The hopelessness is gone, even though my beliefs are pretty much the same. 

So it goes. Since I don't know how long this reprieve will last, I'm trying to get as much done as possible. Maybe if I get certain projects rolling, the momentum will get me through the beginning of the next depression before I wind down to a halt again. (Summers are hard for me. I can get very moody in the heat.)

I really, really hope I get at least two months of this lucidity. Maybe even three.

Thursday, March 01, 2018

Not getting better

I recently revised the labels on my blog. If you go to the labels cloud in the right column (in desktop view) and click on fatness, you'll see that I've been obsessed with food, diets, exercise, losing and gaining and it comes down to this: I'm 51 and a half years old and, even though I was thin just six years ago, I will never be thin again.

My struggle with depression has been a big part of this. Sometimes mental illness causes weight gain because medication increases hunger, a cruel and unacceptable side effect of psychotropic drugs. No drug that causes weight gain should ever reach the market.

Sometimes mental illness causes weight gain because we self-medicate with food and/or alcohol. That's my problem: I self-medicate with sweets. I've seen what can happen when I cut out the sweet junk food and just exercise a little: pants fit better and I can bend more easily. But I can't live without sweets for long because the depression comes back and then I need sugar. Foods like cookies and cake give me just enough of a boost in energy, focus and mood to make it easier to get through the day. When the depression symptoms pass, I can stop with the sweets and lose a little weight again. Then the depression comes back and the cycle repeats.

For years I've been thinking that my depression has been getting less severe, with more time between episodes. I've believed that I was managing it better and better, but 2017 taught me that's bullshit. 

In 2017 I had a hysterectomy which might have exacerbated a mild depression that had started the year before. Within two months the depression hit a dangerous stage and I did a week in a psychiatric ward on suicide watch. I spent the spring and summer of 2017 climbing out of that bleak place, completely demoralized, with my belief in my improvement dissolved.

Since the age of 22 I've been working with different therapists and psychiatrists and have used various modes of therapy to work through my fears and neuroses. I've released huge amounts of anger and fear about my childhood, relationships and life goals. I've doubled and tripled my self-esteem and have learned countless skills in interpersonal dynamics and my own inner mechanisms. I feel a big sense of accomplishment about all this; it's my life's work. I've never given up on knowing I can get better.

But now I admit that when the depression comes back, all that hard work goes out the window. My self-esteem plummets, my fears and neuroses settle back in and I lose the desire to work on goals. And my depression is getting worse, not better. The symptoms are more a part of my daily life now than in the past. Each year the number of good days decreases.

Recently I had a session with my talk therapist. I've been seeing her for 24 years and she has helped me immensely, but on that day I was deep in a depression and just sat there, staring into space. I had little to say and there was nothing that talking could do to ease my symptoms, so we spent part of the time just sitting in silence. She commented that it was hard to see me this way and she felt great sympathy for me, but at that moment her words meant nothing. Eventually I found myself reassuring her that I'd be different next time because my symptoms are rarely that bad for long (except last spring. I hate spring).

This indicates that more work on my interpersonal issues is not the answer. The depression is its own entity that can't be talked down. So I'm done putting so much effort into emotional healing when depression erases that work anyway. I'm tired of trying yet failing to achieve even mediocre goals. I'm tired of pushing back against the natural pattern of my mind.

Believing I've improved myself and my life as much as possible, I'll now just try to make the lives of others better, for instance with my depression support group. Helping others doesn't make me feel good either, but it makes me believe my life isn't a waste, and that's just a little better than nothing. 

Recently I hosted an event after which people told me they had a great time. One person said she really needed such an evening and appreciated it very much. I wish those statements could bring me even a moment of pleasure, but with depresssion, hearing such things is like taking a shower through a shroud: it just doesn't get through.

So, this is me at the age of 51. I've adjusted my goals: from earning good money to just not going into more debt; from dating and finding a relationship to just maintaining my friendships; from losing weight to just trying to exercise each day; and from kicking my sugar addiction to staying on this side of diabetes. I hope I can achieve these goals, but life brings no end of disappointment. By the way, I've given up suicidal ideation and I accept that my death will be beyond my control, which seems to make my friends and family feel better. Now I just go on.