Staying human in little bitty bits...

…or: what I do when there’s nothing I can do.

Living (as I do) with a (medicated) major depressive disorder and a (partially controlled) anxiety disorder, I am, from time to time, hyper-aware of my moods. This hyper-awareness generally starts ramping up about every 85 days.

Wow. That’s pretty darn specific.

Well, yeah. Because every 90 days, I hop online for a very short telehealth appointment with a Licensed Mental Health Practitioner who performs a short-and-to-the-point “med check.” Without this 90-day meeting, this 20-minute conversation, I would be unable to get refills for the medication keeps me more or less on an even keel.

And I don’t think that’s advisable.

So we meet, Med Check Guy and I, on a password protected video call, once every three months. Recently, the entity he works with (for?) has started requiring the Q&A section of our chat to be fed, live, into an AI. This feels, somehow, invasive and risky to me. Does the AI understand and correctly interpret tone of voice? How about self-deprecation? Or sarcasm?

For instance…

Last week, when we arrived at the “How is your mood?” portion of the Q&A, my response was, “Pretty bleak. Isn’t everyone’s?” Med Check Guy’s follow-up question was, “Do you feel you are more depressed than usual?” To which I replied, “Who the hell isn’t???” And then I chuckled, and back-tracked, and verbally tap-danced for the benefit of Med Check Guy and his AI and whoever else might hear or analyze the recording: “Oh hahaha, you know, the state of the world is just so messy right now…. it’s hard to know how one feels from one moment to the next.”

So who knows what my medical chart says at this point. However, I did get a refill for the same meds, same dose, and I find that comforting.

But. The question remains…

What do I do with this bleak and hopeless mood, which — I gotta say — seems entirely justified? When the daily — hourly! — news can’t get any worse, except that it does, what keeps me from remaining curled up under the covers with my stuffed bunny?

Oh, I have tools. I’ve got coping mechanisms aplenty. I’m an old hand at this anxiety thing. I have my guided meditations and my herbal tea and my candles and my “get outside in the fresh air” moments and my almost-daily creative practice… and so far, those things are keeping me more or less upright.

I do my (very small and inadequate) activism thing. I call the legislators. I send emails. I wish I could march, but my unreliable lower back simply will not let me. I do what I can, and I know it’s not enough.

In my journal/planner/notebook, I keep a sort of gratitude log. I’m grateful for all the small things keep me going. Like wandering through my favorite indie bookstore with an old friend, comparing notes on what we’re reading or want to read next and what we read together decades ago. Like waking up to the delicious aroma of an authentic butter chicken sauce my insomniac son is making at 3:30 in the morning. Like meeting on Zoom with my beloved book club, still going strong after more than a decade. Like discovering where I’ve accidentally hidden my favorite fountain pen — lost no longer.

I used to consume television and movies like comfort food, but these days, most of my old stand-by shows are just too damn stressful. So my son Stephen and I put our feet up and watch our favorite Korean cooking show, or the Great British Baking Show. (Aren’t both of those shows competitions? Yes. But unlike their US-based counterparts, they are not cast, directed, and produced to highight conflict and stress.)

I’m in a constant state of searching for peace. I box-breathe. I light candles. I scribble and doodle and paint and fold single sheets of paper into small multi-page booklets. I send postcards to people I’ve never met. I write poems and sometimes I submit them for publication.

But good grief, it is hard to navigate these days. And I want to believe — oh boy do I want to believe — that the state of All The Things(tm) will eventually improve… that balance will be restored… that love will win… and we will still be standing.

I don’t know, though. I really don’t.