Treatment Day Thirty 1/6/12

A quarter will buy you six minutes in the dryer or twenty minutes at most parking meters. Locals refer to US-17 as Savannah Highway. Twilight Zone comes on weeknights at 11pm on channel 4.2. Charleston, as soon as I start to know you, it's time to leave you. Will I miss you? NOPE!!!

When I'm driving home and I need to pee, the urge intensifies significantly when I get within that last mile or so. That's exactly how I feel today; the closer I get to home, the more I need to be there now.

Charleston is a lovely city. There's lots of history, the people are friendly, and the weather is pleasant this time of year. But it isn't HOME.

At this point, I'm here as a courtesy. My one last treatment isn't going to make all the difference in how I feel. But the deal was that I let them study me, I get the treatment for free. They've upheld their end, so I've got to uphold mine. The tests on Monday are the reason I'm not home already. I am honoring my commitment, but with a little annoyance that the one day of broken equipment has left me here for this last weekend. Had it not failed that one day weeks ago, I'd be on my own couch right now, smothered with love. Oh well.

My summary of the treatment is that it has worked for me. The studies indicate that half who receive the treatment experience noticeable improvement; one-third reach remission. It's a big gamble to take, especially if you're paying the $15,000 out-of-pocket price. If you're able to pay that, if you can get insurance to pay it, or if you can get in on a study and can handle the time commitment, I definitely think it's worth it. In Tennessee, practices are currently offering it in at least the Chattanooga and Nashville areas (I think Memphis too), and there are rumors that it's headed to Knoxville. You cannot receive rTMS if you have metal in your head, other than fillings in your teeth. Clinical trials have specific standards, which generally include a history of trying anti-depressants without success, fairly stable but depressed mood now (non-suicidal), no methamphetamines, no current pregnancy, at least age twenty-five (I think).

Almost time to go home. I just washed my last load at the laundromat. So now what?

My treatment has made me feel more optimistic and interested in life. It hasn't taken away all of life's hurts. I have the memory of an elephant, and I know a lot of things that have been said to me and about me. Some were well-intentioned, some were just hurtful. Do I wipe the slate clean and pretend that I haven't been hurt? Do I address these things? Right now, I'm just avoiding some people in my life because I'm not sure how to handle these things. My dad is an easy scenario. He said (actually wrote) very hurtful things to me directly and wasn't really apologetic. Coupled with his refusal to discuss anything and our rocky history, I can avoid him forever and be fine with that. Other people have said things that hurt as much, but either thought I didn't know what they'd said or thought they were being helpful (as my dad initially did). I don't know where to go with those.

Also, what do I do with my newfound superpower of happiness? I at least know the start of that answer. My first focus is on my physical health. Years of anti-depressants with bad side effects and depression with no energy have left me in less than ideal shape. No more pills and added energy sound like a recipe for success.

Though I hate having a winter birthday (I really always wanted a birthday pool party), the upside is that it falls three weeks after New Year's Day. While everyone else is just giving up on their resolutions, I'm starting mine. I figure my New Year starts on my birthday. With that in mind, and my goal for improved physical health, I prepare for my Year of Transformation. My baby-step goals to get started are:

1. Drink at least 1.5L of water per day (I frequently have days of zero water)
2. Eat at least one vegetable serving per day (I frequently have days of zero vegetables)
3. Exercise at least three days per week

I hope to over-achieve, but I wanted realistic, attainable goals to start. I've already started drinking the water. Today I looked up recipes and ordered some cookbooks that are basically made for disguising vegetables in recipes for kids. I think I want to do the Couch to 5k program for my exercise. I don't love running, but it's really the only exercise I do well with doing consistently and it makes me feel like I've had a real workout. I'll have decided for sure (and kicked it all into gear) by my birthday in two weeks.

I plan to continue blogging after treatment is over. I've received a lot of positive response to it, and I enjoy it. I also want to share whether or not the treatment continues to work. And now, you all are my accountability partners for my new goals.

Cheers! (Raising my water glass)

Treatment Day Twenty-Nine 1/5/12

Because my schedule is wide open and Dr. Li is so nice, I always let him tell me what time works best for him to do my treatment. Today it was 9am, as it has been more often than not. Because my sleep schedule has changed quite a bit, I'm usually up by 7:00, so the earlier treatments don't bother me in terms of wake up time. What I hate is that the early times mean long days to fill afterwards.

Today was Boredom Thursday. It's too early to pack, I'm too broke to shop or do other paid adventures, it's too cold for the free stuff, and I'm tired of beading and reading. I took care of a few work things, researched more writing opportunities, and watched Bonanza. I took a nap, snapped at my boyfriend and ate Little Debbies. And I still had about twelve hours to kill.

I received a few encouraging calls, reminding me I have cheerleaders across the country. I checked my mail five times, and the mailman finally arrived. I changed my address with the staffing company that set up my catering gigs, so the W-2 will go to the right place. I had my first "I wish I was dead" thoughts I've had in weeks, and I pondered the meaning of that. I decided that it was probably just an old habit that resurfaced easily with a little grumpiness. And I still had eight hours left to burn.

I decided to write my words of wisdom for people with depression. They are this:

I keep thinking about my "before" life. I felt obligated to pretend like everything was fine so no one would have to be made uncomfortable by my issues. I resented it. I felt like every relationship I had was conditional and no one would love the real me.

While I still think that people should be able to share emotions and be loved unconditionally, I'm starting to think more and more that I handled it in the best way I could. No, I didn't want to be fake, but I had enough hope to think that eventually life would be something I wanted. If I thought there would be happiness eventually, I had to pave the way. That meant going to class or work when I wanted to lay in bed. It meant going to a friend's party when I wanted to stay home. It meant staying home when I knew that showing up at the party would simply bring everyone down and make everything about me. There were lots of choices to be made and balances to be created. I know I didn't handle it perfectly, but I'm glad I didn't go around telling everyone how miserable I was. While good friends want to help, after a while misery starts to spread.

My boss once said to me, "depression is a selfish disease". Initially, I was shocked and offended. As I thought about it, though, I realized it made sense. When I was in my darkest places, all I could think about was me. I could be at a funeral full of grieving people and think, "At least they have something to heal from. I'm just miserable and I don't even really know why." My need to sleep or hide was more important than anyone else's needs.

It's hard not to be fully consumed by depression. It feels like there are no choices. You don't want to be unhappy or sleep sixteen hours a day, you just can't help it. The best advice I can offer for anyone living with depression is to remember that there are still choices. Most of those choices are much harder for you to make than for other people, but they're there.

Some of my LEAST favorite things to hear during depressed episodes were: "Just get over it", "Lots of people have it worse," "Can't you decide to be happy?" or "What have you got to be upset about?" I don't ever want to say those things to anyone else. There is no magic cure or quick way to "snap out of it". I do want to remind everyone that little decisions can make a difference. For me, it was deciding to shower when I wanted to stay in bed, which then led to me going to work. I didn't make the HUGE decision to go to work and be productive, I just made the small decision to shower and that first step gained momentum. I didn't just decide to be happy, but I did decide to go out with friends when I wanted to stay in, which led to at least a few moments of happiness. Plenty of times, the choice was hard enough that I went the other direction. Still, I'm glad for all the times I tried. I'm glad I lived by the old addage, "fake it 'til you make it". Everyone should be able to be real, but that doesn't have to mean we give up trying.

I didn't want to go to school or work most days, but I was at least able to see that avoiding them would only make my situation worse. School especially seemed optional, but that flicker of hope that one day things would be better and I would be glad for the time I stuck to it to help make the situation better made me hang on.

So that's it. Hang on. Keep trying. Have hope. Be accountable and take personal responsibility. I feel like rTMS has helped me over the hump, but the work I did until I got here kept me on the hump at all.

While writing this, I paused to check facebook, got bumped off the internet three times while trying to answer email, watched M*A*S*H, watered my flowers, and listened to some music. Now I only have about four hours to blow. I think I'll call my boyfriend and apologize for the grumpiness.

Treatment Day Twenty-Eight 1/4/12

My mom, like me, tends to be fairly stoic and non-demonstrative. She assumes I know that she is proud of me, so she doesn't often take the time to actually tell me that. Being the insecure little girl that I sometimes am, hearing her actually say anything of that nature sends me soaring. Since I was in a mood of crying for joy yesterday anyway, the text she sent me set the waterworks flowing. It read:

Wow Steph!! I love your blogs! I read each subject. Made me want more. Do it every day. Oh, and be sure to Drive Gently. That cracked me up. U r a great writer!... I mean it - you are great at writing. I even read the necrophilia blog. Interesting but creepy.

Inspired by mom's encouragement, I submitted my first article for (hopeful) publication in a magazine today. It wouldn't technically be my first published article, but everything else I've had published has been of a press release nature. If it didn't get published, it was because the event wasn't interesting, not because my writing wasn't. Today's submission was just me, baring a little piece of my soul and putting it out for the approval of strangers. I can't post it here, because then the magazine wouldn't technically have first publishing rights. But if it makes it in, I'll be sure to share the link.

Today was my last ever Wednesday of treatment. Five days and three treatments til I go home. I'm starting to set up work meetings and preparing to return to my new improved normal life. I know it will be the real test of the success of my treatment, and I'm nervous but excited.

Treatment Day Twenty-Seven 1/3/12

I’m weepy again today, but this time it’s tears of joy and gratitude. Get cozy, friends. I have a lot to say tonight. If you have a gag reflex for sappiness, you may want to just close your browser window now.

I began today by thinking about getting a gift basket together for all the folks at the Brain Stimulation Lab at MUSC. I often feel like my own job is thankless, and that no matter how hard I try, nothing I do makes any major impact. It has been heavy on my mind that I want these guys to know that they’ve made a HUGE difference in at least one person’s life.

I don’t feel like I can accurately describe all the changes in me yet because I don’t know how much I still have yet to see. Maybe I’ll get back home and discover that I want to sleep on the other side of the bed or that I love pinto beans. Maybe I’ll accomplish twice as much as I used, or maybe my contentment with myself will lead to less need to prove myself and I’ll become lazy. Maybe I’ll discover a superpower, like being able to open the refrigerator with my head due to residual magnetic fields.

I can say that the underlying tension that was always in me is gone now. Not just soothed, but GONE. I smile more at the beauty of the world. I think about happy things. I don’t imagine my own death or spend my time thinking of the hundreds of things I’ve messed up on. I have a little more patience. I have a lot more interest in life.

My appreciation extends beyond the lab folks and into much deeper relationships. All of my friends have had reason to dump me, but they’ve stuck around and even loved me. One of them literally saved my life. Another started me on the path to rTMS. All of my friends have really kept me going while I’ve been here, emailing, calling and texting words of encouragement and love. Some even made the long drive here to keep me from being too alone.

My family and I have had a rocky relationship for a long time. We’ve always loved each other, but I know that I’ve been hard for them to understand. They’re trying to understand, though. They want to be supportive instead of continuing to sweep the topic under the rug. We’re still working to figure out our new dynamic. Just when they start figuring out how to talk to depressed Steph, I go and get happy.

A lot of my depression has a chicken-or-egg relationship with my self –esteem. For most of my life, I’ve wanted to be the most important person in someone’s life. My parents naturally had to give their love to all their kids, and my siblings tended to be the squeaky wheels getting the grease when we were young. My siblings grew their own families quickly enough that I never achieved the level of importance that I sought with them either. My ex-husband found his addiction to be more important than me. The boyfriend after him found his other girlfriend to be more important. My last boyfriend … I don’t know. He was focused on his own life more than our life together, I guess.

My boyfriend now leaves me with no doubt that I’m the most important person in his life. He would walk away from any other need or obligation in his life to help me if I said I needed it. He has his quirks and he drives me crazy sometimes, but I feel secure for the first time in a long time. I know that he would love me just as much if this treatment hadn’t worked, and he would be cheering me on to keep trying. If nothing ever worked, he would put up with the rough days because I’m worth it to him, even then. He’s what I’ve been looking for, in a slightly neurotic package. But then I shouldn’t throw stones from my glass house. He helps me be hopeful, and I’m glad this treatment has helped me appreciate that more.

Today was my last Tuesday of treatment. I’m so close to home I can smell it. The hours can’t move quickly enough, though. I can’t wait for the new me to take over the old me’s life, especially knowing that the rest of the cast of characters will be there with me.

Treatment Day Twenty-Six 1/2/12

Let me start today's entry by better explaining my current living situation. My apartment is safe and cute (pix below), but only about 400sf. I haven't lived in a space this small since my brief stint with dorm life, and then I had thirty close friends right down the hall. My internet connection only works about 30% of the time (I've given up on Skype altogether). I have one channel that consistently comes in clearly, and it shows an awful lot of Bonanza and I Love Lucy. I'm not a big Western fan and I do not see the comedic brilliance that others seem to find in Lucy. Additionally, the small size of the apartment makes the temperature difficult to regulate, so it's often too hot or too cold.

I share all this to explain how today came to be what it has been. This weekend, I was stir crazy. I've seen many beautiful homes, interesting buildings and historical features like cemetaries and museums here. I've seen enough to last me a while. As mentioned above, my apartment doesn't offer much in the way of entertainment. I've read more in the last month than I have in the previous year combined and I'm losing interest there. I've seen everything Redbox has of interest, and a few things that weren't of interest. I've paid about $1,000 for my living quarters here and had an unexpected $500 car repair, so money is tight, ruling out most other entertainment. 

Today, I was determined to find something to do. I went to treatment as usual, then hopped in the car with no destination in mind. As I was driving, I saw a sign pointing the direction to Kiawah Island and Seabrooke Island. Eureka! In all my time here, I've only been to Folly Beach. I liked it so much I didn't see any point in going elsewhere, but today was a great day to explore a new beach. The weather was mild, and a new beach likely meant a cute new cafe for lunch.

The two islands are beside each other, so heading towards one meant easily seeing them both. The drive there was an odd stretch of trailers and Habitat for Humanity neighborhoods followed by plantations and golf courses. It was easy to see who were the Have's and who the Have-Not's. The highway leading there was covered by trees that trailed Spanish moss, making a lovely tunnel effect.

When it came to a fork in the road, I headed toward Seabrooke Island first. There were signs along the road which read "Drive Gently". I have no idea what that means, but it cracked me up. I soon approached a guard shack (from the only road leading to the island) and was told that the rest of the island was private and I wasn't allowed to go further without a permit. I turned around and headed to Kiawah, only to run into the same situation. So, no beach time for me.

On the drive back (approximately 25 miles one way), I tried to stop at a Habitat for Humanity store, only to learn that it was closed for the holiday. I then found a diner (actually named The Diner) and stopped for lunch. I grabbed a local magazine on my way to my table to see what was happening around town. I should have known better. My two experiences so far with trying to participate in local activities I found in the paper have not been successful.

First, I went to an event called something like "Chicks and Dogs" that was for women and their dogs. I thought it would help with my missing my dog and give me a chance to meet some locals. I apparently didn't read the part about it being a lesbian event. The ladies were welcoming of me, despite my being heterosexual and dogless, but I still felt a little out of place. I'm pretty sure I was hit on, though, so it's good to know I could make it with the ladies if I ever switch teams.

My second venture had been to a Kwanzaa event. It was supposed to include a parade and African drumming and dancing. The African American culture is especially strong in Charleston, so I thought it would be awesome to see and participate in. Unfortunately, I got there (actually, we got there, I had Knoxville friends in town then) and there was nothing going on. It was weird, because there were no signs indicating it was cancelled or moved, but everyone seemed to know it but us. I can only assume that the paper must have gotten the date or location wrong, because it was a virtual ghost town.

I flipped through the paper during lunch looking for anything else of interest. There were enough ads for plastic surgery (Start the New Year with a New You!) that I checked to make sure I hadn't accidentally picked up some kind of surgery sales catalog. Events included the usual meetings (NA, AA, OA, and all the other Anonymouses) and some church concerts. My favorite was a listing for Ladies Night at an "adult" store, offering free samples. I hope you get to take the samples home, and not have to try them in the store.

So, I'm still in Charleston with not a lot to do. I'm working on writing a few articles about my experience, hoping to get published in some local newspapers or magazines. I really want to spread the word about this treatment. As it becomes more known, insurance companies will have more pressure to pay for it. I know it doesn't work for everyone, but for those of us who have had success with it, it's a total life-changer.

Treatment Day Twenty-Five 12/30/11

I've been snoring the last few nights and my ears are tender when I put in and take out my earplugs. I think I'm trying to get a cold, which I'm going to use as my excuse for why I slept so much today.

I didn't go to sleep until well after 2am, then was awake at around seven. I had treatment at ten, and got back to the apartment shortly after eleven. I napped briefly, then read a little, then slept for about four or five more hours. Not ideal, especially for any hope of good sleep tonight, but I do at least feel well-rested.

Sleep has been my biggest struggle here. Partly, my day is just too unstructured.  Also, I hate the mattress here. My sleep patterns have changed to include a long period of wakefulness in what I consider the middle of the night (often 5am-7am). I have nightmares nearly every night, but that has been a long standing side effect of antidepressants. I'm just remembering them more than usual.

I'm so excited about the New Year. As my friend reminded me, 2012 is when the world is supposed to end. At least my last year will be happy! :) I have big plans for 2012, though, and look forward to sharing them with you soon.

Treatment Day Twenty-Four 12/29/11

After treatment and a little play time at the beach, my friends went home today. I cried as soon as they pulled out of their parking spot. This seemed a little odd, since I hadn't cried after any of my other visitors left. I realized, though, that they are the last visitors I plan to receive during my time here in Charleston. I'm alone and homesick, but in the last stretch. By this blog's calendar, treatment 31 will be my last day here. It would have been thirty, but the one day with the equipment down has to be tacked onto the end.

I had another catering gig tonight. Dr. Ruth was there! She is incredibly short and pretty old, but still quite spry. I didn't speak to her personally, but I overheard her talking to other people and her accent and smile are adorable. This was my first seated event (versus banquet style), and I didn't care much for it. There was a lot of standing around waiting for people to leave while their guest speakers gave their speeches. We weren't allowed to be in the banquet room while the speeches were going on, which was unfortunate. The event was a recognition of top performers in their fields, and I'm sure some of it would have been inspiring.

After the event, I called my boyfriend. It started with a normal conversation, but soon my tears were flowing again. This time, I didn't just cry, I wept. We're talking snot-dripping, tears in my hair and mouth, red-faced, wailing kind of sobs. I'm not a crying kind of chick, so twice in one day seemed ridiculous.

I can't really explain all my tears today. It was like all my emotions were balled into one snot flavored wad. There were happy tears. My one friend, who is generally about as warm and fuzzy as I am (which is not at all publicly, but we're softer at heart), told me how proud she was of me for finding this treatment and following through with it. My other friend shared the excitement of her new pregnancy with me. Her daughter called me Aunt Stephanie, even though I'm not biologically related to her at all. I felt so loved.

There were also sad tears and anxious tears and lonely tears. I miss home. I'm worried that treatment won't "stick". I want to be held by my boyfriend and licked by my dogs.

Talking to my boyfriend was good. He is my biggest fan. I know that depression has made me hard to live with for everyone in my life. Friends and family are able to miss out on the darkest moments, but my boyfriend is close enough that he can't avoid it all. What makes him amazing is that he wouldn't choose to avoid the dark moments; he really wants to be with me through good and bad. I know he'll stick with me on this journey no matter how it turns out, and he'll do his part to see that everything turns out happily ever after.

Enough of that warm and fuzzy... the point of all this is that I still have emotion. That, of course, is good. I don't want to be blunted. Some days are still going to be hard. Nothing about this hard day made me want to die, which is my little victory. I just want to go home, happy and healthy. It looks like I'm headed that way.