Like an old 1950's movie reel, or photograph, life unrolls in black and white through the lens of Depression. Various shades of grey, blending the whites and the blacks into soft and messy edges muting and distorting the borders of reality. I find myself sort of "feeling" my way through the days that are so filled with shadows. It seems that my eyes cannot really be relied upon, and that I need to use my heart to navigate...blurring my day, my paths, with tears, weeping being the only thing keeping my spirit from exploding away from me in a panic. I need my spirit, and intrinsically will fight for it, knowing instinctively that without it I am just a corpse. Weeping happens, and I am thankful for it, because of the releasing pressure, like a hot water heater's valve, keeping me alive for my child and my days.
On a positive note, hey...I am not dying. So sure that my previous blood draws and medical proddings would prove a cancer, a deadly end to my body, that it would seem an amazing and wonderful new look at life to discover, at this point, I am cancer-free still. Still awaiting the results of an ultrasound, but without fear of the unwanted nodules being found ... I am trying to be celebratory...trying to "join the party" so to speak that I see my husband making. I do have a disease, but like everything in my life, it is common and not that unique or special, and is definitely treatable with the science of medications. Even my disease is mediocre. You would think that my body could do something extraordinary for once!
I have a disease called "Hashimoto's Thyroiditis" which is not a thyroid disease at all, but an autoimmune disease...apparently my warrior-like white blood cells are fighting my own thyroid. Also apparently, I have had this my whole life and it finally makes some sense of my historic craziness. Not that it is an excuse for my many sins and bad decisions, but it does help explain a bit of the actions I have chosen. It is very disconcerting to think I made such huge decisions in my life based on the silent, but heavy, lurkings of a disease. Learning that this disease is a hereditary one, it also gives me a clearer view of my endearing, but totally dysfunctional childhood family. It seems my father suffered greatly from mood swings and depression, and I'm thinking my siblings and I have inherited more than good skin from him. Now I understand his drinking, his inability to stay in one house longer than a few short years, and his seeking to appease some sort of inner wildness that he failed to control. Oh yes. I get all of those now.
Unlike many people who are living with this disease, I had a doctor who knew enough to actually test for it. Many folks are being treated for the symptoms of Hashimoto's without being treated for the disease itself. Depression is tops on the list, along with forms of anemia, inability to fight infections, dry skin, dry hair... and this disease leads potentially to more serious things like Type I Diabetes Melitus, Grave's Disease, Addison's Disease, Crone's disease, Lupus, Rheumatoid Arthritis...and other sobering sufferings. My "Glass Half Full" is certainly thankful for our modern day medical field, and that there are very knowledgeable naturapathic professionals who can educate me with diet and nutritional ideas.
So. I started on a magic pill that is supposed to assist my pituitary gland in regulating my endocrine system, but until this pill's dosage is adjusted just right, I am in the throes of distress not really of my own making. It seemed to take the color out of my world, attacking any hard-earned self confidence (what little I had to start with) and turning it into a muddy black and white film of the empty part of my Glass. Giving me restless nights filled with disturbing dreams of the edges of all nightmares unremembered but deeply felt, long after waking.
Adding to this, I have become the "Night Mama" to a new puppy who really belongs to my son, but-we-all-know-how-that-works. Needless to say, my first weekend on medication was spent in a zombie-like cocoon, filled with Alice-in-Wonderland-tears oozing from my eyes uncontrollably...no way could I function outside of my house. And, wildly crazy, when I DID interact with the general public, I was able to smile and laugh and died a little deeper each time I pretended like this. No wonder Depression is a disease that is scoffed at and frowned upon... we sufferers should have our own country where we could go so as not to affect our families, allowing us to wallow our way through it in peace.
In the past, before I knew that this was a disease, I managed it by simply trying to run away from myself. I did it over and over again by packing up my meager belongings and moved to another place, state, environment in a very natural gypsy-like way that felt more like me than the settled self. The stimulation I received from this crazy-like action was enough to appease the crazy...until the next time. Granted, I cannot tell which of my instincts and actions are induced by a natural craziness and restless yearning, or by the disease that is Hashimoto's. There is an element of stability that I've discovered in the past fifteen or so years since I've met my husband and been able to provide a home for my kids that seems admirable to me, but not really "me" and I have fought my urges to "up and go" for a long time now. It has become such a part of me, that it will be interesting to see what proper medication does. I am not all that sure I want to know who that person is who does not have a bit of craziness left inside. I will give it a shot, but although I will not miss the Black and White days of depression, I think I will miss that bit of color that comes with crazy.
