Tension, apprehension, and dissension have begun

Did you know, that “chaos” used to mean “a chasm, or abyss”?  I didn’t, but it works handily into today’s theme, which is. . .

Chaos, in the sense of disorder, confusion, turmoil, anarchy, and whatever you’re having yourself.

Long-time readers of this blog will recall that I have a chronic illness called depression.  It’s been a part of me for most of my life, and I have quite a number of coping behaviors that pretty often get me through a flare-up.  Sometimes, though, the coping behaviors just don’t do the trick, and I need to resort to brief periods of being medicated.  Happily, I do pretty well with a medication that doesn’t fog my thinky bits to the point of not being able to write, but it’s still medication, and, cat-like, I hate being interfered with, so I cut loose from the drugs as soon as I feel steady enough to carry on my ownself.

It occurred to me, after the last flare-up, that I needed, at this late stage in life, to expand my repertoire of coping skills, because the disease has learned how to circumvent a number of the classics.  And because I’m getting old enough that helping professionals will tend to stop listening to me, because — Old Lady Syndrome.  And because, yanno, we all need new challenges in our daily lives, to keep us. . .sharp, that’s it.

Sharp.

So, I began daily meditation, and took up a firm schedule of exercise, made the commitment to return to yoga, and established bed-time and wake-up time.  I started this when I was on meds, so I’d be in stride  when the medication was stopped, and — it was going pretty well.

Then, the schedule was somewhat interrupted by a vacation — and utterly shattered by family emergencies of the most disruptive sort imaginable.

I fell off the meditation wagon, thoroughly scrambled my exercise/yoga routine; bedtime and wake-up became fluid, and sleep was not always sound.  The nature of the emergency meant that I, and everyone I was in close contact with, were being constantly dosed with toxic levels of uncertainty, confusion, grief, and distress.

So, emergency — we got through it, did the needful — and came home.

One of the most pernicious aspects of this disease, depression, is that it immediately magnifies any small error you may have made into a Huge Life Failure, therefore making it harder to, say, go back to meditation or exercise:  You’ve already proved you’re a failure, unable to keep to the simplest schedule.  Why bother?  Who cares?  What a waste of time and space you are; why don’t you do everyone a favor, and just curl up and die?

. . .says the disease to yourself, and, honestly? it’s pretty devastating to hear that kind of talk: here’s your own brain telling you what an utter loss you are, after all.

You need to take a lot of deep breaths, and remember to stop and figure out by dead reckoning if it’s you, or the disease, talking.

We’ve been home a few days now, and I. . .notice the subtle signs indicating the approach of a flare-up.  I do not want a flare-up.  Truthfully, I could do with never being depressed again, ever.

So, this morning, I hit the gym. This afternoon, by ghod, I will meditate; it’s only 10 minutes, not a lifetime.  I can do this.  I’m registered for the next yoga class, which starts in two weeks.

And I need to remember to get to bed on time.  Or close to time.  Or, anyway, before 2 am.

And! I need to keep a weather-eye out — on me.  I think this is the part of the whole chronic disease thing that I hate the most.  I have to monitor myself; to weigh every moment of sadness, or disinclination to do a thing, or failure to find the Exactly Correct Word for the current WIP, to try to judge if there’s a flare-up on the horizon, or if I’m just having, as everyone does, a bad day.

So, anyway — Chaos.  Disorder is not my friend, not if I want to stay out of the chasm of depression.

. . .that shouldn’t be hard to remember.

Fingers crossed.

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Today’s blog post title is brought to you by Alfred Bester, who ‘way back wrote a novel called The Demolished Man, which may be worth your time, even in these enlightened times.