Can I keep my sanity during the two week wait? Episode 1

In my last post I talked about my first cycle charting my fertility signs. At the end I felt more confident in my fertility than I ever have, knowing that I was lucky to ovulate and have a normal length cycle in my first cycle after birth control pills.

So that was last month. This month, after finishing my plan to transition to just one, more baby-friendly antidepressant (Zoloft), and after saying goodbye to the last symptoms from my most recent depression (which occurred fall/winter 2012), we decided we were ready to actually try to conceive, or TTC as it’s called by many.

After last cycle’s experience, I’d gained a better sense of how to classify my cervical fluid, so the waiting to ovulate part of the cycle wasn’t too stressful. If you’ve never done this, just imagine rubbing mucus from your hoo-ha between your fingers and trying to stretch it, and then asking yourself, is this more like lotion, raw egg whites, or overcooked rice? Or, when it doesn’t clearly fit any, searching the Internet for more examples, descriptions, or pictures. Oh, the things we do when we want a baby!

So I was excited this cycle to see my first days of fertile cervical fluid. My temps are still fluctuating so without that and an ovulation predictor test, it would have been harder to say which day I ovulated, but I was able to determine it was likely day 18 (with a chance of day 20).

After a number of raised temps confirmed ovulation, I found myself in my first two week wait (2WW) – the time between ovulation and either a positive pregnancy test or your period. We had very well timed intercourse and I had some fertile cervical fluid, so the possibility of conception was very excitingly real.

While some pregnancy symptoms can show up before a test would turn positive, they are mostly caused by progesterone, the same hormone that causes many PMS symptoms. It’s almost impossible to tell in any given cycle if what you are feeling is because you have a tiny little blastocyst in you or because you are about to menstruate in full force. And there-in lies the rub.

Basically, the two week wait is like PMS in a pressure cooker!

I have felt daily cramps and lower backaches all week, and I haven’t had a lower backache from PMS since I was a teenager. I’ve had headaches and some nausea and some serious irritability. Add to this the fact that I’ve wanted a baby for years and am ecstatic to finally try, and you get an over-sensitive woman who is somewhat in pain yet hoping that every little twinge is a sign of possible pregnancy rather than the return of unregulated menstruation.

I found myself looking at my chart multiple times a day, going back to note whenever I felt a new symptom, and talking with others online in the same situation.

These days, many tests turn positive before you would miss a period, so based on the advice in some books I read and having experienced these symptoms more strongly than I have in years, I tried to take a test on Saturday. That was ten days past ovulation (10 DPO) and 3 days after a temperature dip which if I was pregnant would be called an implantation dip. I say tried to test because I basically failed at peeing on a stick properly. I got no control line, because I had soaked it. Who knew it was so easy for one’s first TTC pregnancy test to end comically?!?!

I talked to husband about the situation in general – how crappy I was feeling and how while he’s trying to think of it in terms of months and cycles, I am feeling these things in my body every day. He suggested we take a more chill approach and assume always that I am not pregnant, until one day my period doesn’t come and we realize that I am. I am thinking that approach may be less of a roller coaster, so I want to aim for that, but I live in my body with my mind and I’m not sure how well I will achieve that state of mind.

So after Saturday’s invalid test, I tried again Sunday morning (11 DPO). It was negative. 11 DPO is during the time in a cycle when a positive always means a positive (though could become a very early miscarriage) and a negative sometimes means negative and sometimes means you tested too early. Still, I managed to change my thought patterns from “I hope I am” to “I’m probably not, but some day I will be” and that made it easier. But I held out hope for this cycle, because my temps were still rising and last cycle at this time they were falling already.

This morning, my temperature dropped .5 degrees, which usually signals menstruation is on its way. At this point I’m looking forward to the end of this cycle, this two week wait, and ready to try again next time, which is probably about 3 weeks away. Oh, and I’m shamelessly popping pills for the PMS. If I can’t escape it, I’m at least going to dull it!

We’re finally ready to start a new journey

It’s been a while since I’ve posted here, but I’ve been feeling the need to write again lately, and today feels like a great day to start.

So much is different from the last time I wrote. About a year ago I got my energy up and my resume together and started applying to jobs. I got a good amount of interest and interviews and ended up with opportunities at several places, most of which were great and 2 of which seemed like dream jobs. After consideration I picked one, putting the opportunity to work on a team of people who I could learn from above my initial interest in the industry, and also keeping in mind how well the role and culture would likely work with our plans to start a family.

Almost a year ago now I started there, and I couldn’t be more happy about it. I’ve grown tremendously, get to do important work for the company, and really enjoy the company of my coworkers, who are smart, hard working, and fun. On top of that my income has nearly doubled! (I’m still amazed to be able to say that!)

It’s the best job I’ve ever had, and I feel so lucky.

During this year, we continued working on lowering my antidepressants, because we wanted me to try going off them before getting pregnant. At the time I was on a significant dose of both Wellbutrin and Prozac. All told I think I’ve been working on reducing that for over 2 years! As I got to a minimal dose of both and then just one, I realized I was struggling again. But when I saw my doctor in the fall in that state of mind, I didn’t have the strength to tell him no when he, not bothering to ask how I was feeling, suggested we take the final step and drop it altogether.

As the fall continued I slipped further, having a harder time talking to my husband about what was on my mind, worrying more and more, ruminating often. Life was stressful as we filed to sue his former client and my former employer for nonpayment of a considerable sum, and as he worked less while dealing with the case money was getting tight again, but I didn’t share my fears of being broke again. Instead, I stayed in my head, worried and sad.

As fall turned to winter I stopped getting up to go to the rink. Still loving work, I managed to keep it from affecting my job performance more than a little, but it definitely affected my relationship and my marriage.

One day it came to a head, and I realized I could and should do something about it. So I went back to the doc and told him this wasn’t working, and I wanted some meds again. He gave me meds but sighed and acted like he didnt want to, and he didn’t consider that we should try the safest one because I might need to stay on it. He just said, “This is going to delay you further. You will need time to get this out of your system again before you start.”

I started crying, quietly, and he either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because he said nothing. So I left with my prescription and a plan to find a new doctor, crying on the train and in the park before collecting myself to go back to the office.

That’s when I found a reproductive psychiatrist – someone who specializes in mental health and medication during events like pregnancy and breast feeding. She has deep knowledge in the area and gave me lots of information about all of the studies on both SSRI’s and Wellbutrin during pregnancy. I am so glad to have her to work with me, and with her guidance we’ve switched me to Zoloft, as it has less accumulation in the baby’s system than Prozac and is better for breast feeding than Wellbutrin.

If you check my archives you’ll see that I had baby fever over 6 years ago, and I’m elated that everything is in place now. I have no depression symptoms, am happy with my job, we moved to a nicer, more baby-friendly apartment and neighborhood, and husband is ready and excited too.

So, I’m super excited to say that as of tomorrow, I will have completed my medication transition plan, and we are ready to try to conceive!

Lost some momentum

After my last significant update from October, I lost some momentum. There are a lot of reasons why, but suffice it to say I went through the holiday season in a state of grasping for things to make me feel good.

Do you know that feeling where you start eating cookies and you can’t stop until they are gone, because with each one you think “I’ll stop after this one” and then “but it tastes so good” and “just one more” and before you know it you’ve had a thousands calories and untold grams of fat, and all just for 10 minutes of enjoying the deliciousness? And you feel as though you can’t stop yourself, that it’s a compulsion really, but there is some quiet voice in the back of your head saying “well you could fight it” and the rest of the voices just sort of tilt their heads to listen to that one and then just shrug and say “too tired to fight it…”

I felt that way all too much in the last few months. And I don’t really feel the energy and strength to pull out of it now. But I’m trying – at least. I’m trying to break the changes I’d like to see in myself into very small steps. I know with each small step I can feel a little more proud, a little stronger, and a little more in control. Whether it’s 5 minutes of meditating or getting up within the first two snoozes, I think the little changes are the first steps. Now, to take those steps…

Making changes

I’m writing now from a workout bike … i’ve been thinking a lot lately about my lifestyle now, how it has evolved since taking this job in January, and what I want it to look like. I’m thinking about health, both physical and mental (which has a physical basis of course), and how I can be more healthy.

You see, I fell into another clinical depression this summer, known as a double depression for a dysthymic, and after feeling it’s pull for sometime, I began looking around for new information, for new approaches that might allow me to at least avoid falling into depression annually.

I felt myself falling into negative thought patterns that I had not experienced since my bulimic days more than 7 years ago – getting trapped inside my head and doubting that even those closest to me, such as Husband, wanted to listen to my worries or help me find ways out of them. I felt so unsure of myself it became difficult to ask for help for basic things. I slept more and more, by the end often more than half of the day on the weekends. I let the mail, dishes, bills, clothes, and clutter pile up. And I struggled to get out of bed on weekdays and get to work on time. I would always stay late and work on weekends to make up for missed time, but my bosses started showing displeasure at my late arrivals.

So I cast about, wondering if there was some way to stop this cycle. I finally got sick of it enough that I found some energy within to try to make a change. I downloaded some books on modern approaches to depression and dysthymia, and I started to think that maybe if I learned more I could construct my lifestyle in such a way as to ward off full-blown depression.

Just beginning to believe this made a difference. I knew that one of the strongest things I could do was to exercise regularly, but trying to start a new exercise routine was intimidating. So I started with Kinect (Your Shape, Adventures, Sports, etc) and just did 15 minutes at home on Saturdays. Even that left me sore for a few days, but I kept it up and felt myself getting stronger.

This slow change has been enough to help me see the light at the end of the tunnel. I am gaining momentum – reading about yoga, meditation, and mindfulness-based stress reduction. And Husband is on board now too. So, where will this lead? I look forward to finding out.

Related articles

• Too Little Exercise, Too Much TV Tied to Depression (nlm.nih.gov)
• Dysthymia: Fighting the Gloom (blogs.wsj.com)
• Dysthymia of the Damned (svindigo.wordpress.com)

Goodbye, summer!

What a summer it’s been. Every year I brace myself as June comes along and announces that hot, sticky weather won’t be far behind. For me, with it comes extra transit delays due to track work and more time waiting in stifling subway stations. I also inevitably find myself jealously listening to other people’s vacation plans and stories, and wondering when we’ll get our finances and lifestyle in place enough to take trips ourselves. And to make it worse, I miss the convenience of having multiple outdoor rinks around the city where I can fit skating in at least weekly. I struggle to exercise as much, and start feeling sluggish. So I tend to think of a summer as a long hot slog through three months and I just bear it enough to get through.

This year, I remember thinking that maybe it won’t be so bad, that I need to try to enjoy it.

But, unfortunately that would not be so for me. This summer, my Husband and I:

Returned home from a pleasant walk on a Saturday afternoon to find our apartment had been burgled and 3 laptops, 2 of them work computers, had been stolen

Commenced an apartment search planning to finally move from our starter apartment that we’ve been in for 6 years, only to determine that we could not yet afford to move somewhere better

Worked overtime every week, feeling stressed and overwhelmed that we could not get things done in the timeframes asked of us

Learned of a family member’s struggle with cocaine use

Supported our family as they faced another eviction proceeding, which ended in us coming to the rescue with 1-2k that we’d been planning to use to book an anniversary trip, our first non-family-visit vacation since our honeymoon 5 years ago

Fought a tiresome battle with our CEO to get Husband’s freelancer paycheck in time to help our family close that eviction case

Fought another tiresome battle to get a review that was promised to me for 3 months after job start, and has still not been completed as we reach month 9

Experienced 2 painful cyst ruptures despite being on birth control which is usually prescribed to prevent cysts from forming, and

Had one breakdown that ended in doubling my dose of Prozac after months of carefully reducing it as part of a plan to try to reduce my meds before trying for baby. Now I’ll wait 3 more months and then try to reduce the Wellbutrin instead.

Now, there have been some good things happening – we are on track to finish paying down 2-4 of the debts we’ve been carrying for years, we’ve both gained tremendous experience in our jobs, and Husband is successfully charging over 20% more for his freelance work than he did just last year. Once he actually gets paid for that work, I’m sure that will feel good.

I turned 28 last weekend, and I’ve been thinking a lot. We need a change. I need a change. I feel as though inertia and lethargy have settled in, and I can barely stand it anymore. I want to start fresh, to move somewhere new, decorate our living space as the adults that we are instead of the college kid that I was when we moved here, start taking vacations, saving a nest egg, exercising and eating healthier, planning for a family, and enjoying life more. I’m trying to muster what energy I have to make that happen.

Perhaps this Fall we will get ourselves solidly on that path. I sure hope so.

Overcoming the Inertia of Depression

It was another hard week, one that brought a second set of impending eviction hearings against my extended family, news of a family member’s coke addiction, my second painful ruptured cyst in as many months, and an unexpected motherboard failure of my husband’s trusted computer, which he depends on for his freelance web development work. By week’s end I felt so gloomy it was hard to imagine a positive future, and I was caught in my head with worries of infertility, homeless relatives, and a continued struggle to meet basic needs like rent.

But these problems were not only mine but my husband’s too, and he was struggling more than I with fear and distress for his family. I knew that he needed me and even though he was there for me, I didn’t want to be another source of worry and energy drain for him. I resolved to do all that I could to get stronger.

On Friday, I went to the kindle store and searched for self-help books on dysthymia, depression, and addiction. I found some that seemed to be approaches I am comfortable with and downloaded samples to my phone. And I began reading.

I found that just having the books added to my sense of control. I am doing something. I am educating myself further about the current guidelines for what works and what doesn’t. And I will use this information to craft a lifestyle that keeps my dysthymia in check.

As I read through the introductory chapters, I found it comforting to be reminded that my lack of activity and energy is not because I am a failure, a slob, or a lazy bum. Rather, I had fallen into a vicious cycle that affects many. I am not alone in this, and there are ways to manage it.

One thing I read in many places is the beneficial effect of regular exercise on both neurochemistry and hormone levels. I’d not been exercising (beyond walks) since the end of the skating season, and I felt like a failure as I continued to neglect exercise. But reading these books motivated me to try and to start simple. So on Saturday after our walk I fired up the Kinect and played Kinect Adventures until my body was tired.

That little act was very powerful in it’s effect on me. I felt more in control because I’d successfully gotten myself to exercise, my body felt better because the muscles were active, and my brain felt better because the exercise released dopamine.

Half a year into the new job

And I can’t believe that much time has passed. I love the job and am still so grateful for the opportunity. I actually enjoy going to work most days and I am really excelling. The company is having a strong year and I believe I’ve been a big part of that. The environment is so much better for me – I feel accepted and comfortable and valued.

I’d even thought about ending this blog. After all, it was originally an exploration of school and depression, research and science, and life in academia as a woman scientist. I’m no longer in school, academia, research, or considered a woman scientist professionally.

But, that doesn’t mean the themes of my life aren’t similar. I still struggle with dysthymia, and I’m still in a male-dominated industry. I’m still a young woman figuring out herself and her future. And I still enjoy the outlet of blogging and the companionship of other bloggers (although I’ve mostly been a lurker lately).

So, I’m still here. And I still have things to talk about.

I’ve wanted to start a family for many years now. The time is nearly right, and I’m glad I’ve waited through our struggles with money and career. A few months ago, we started decreasing my antidepressants. Following my friend’s suicide last fall I had spiraled out of control, and it took many months to feel better again. During that time we changed my medication, such that I was on both Wellbutrin and Prozac. It helped me feel alert enough to go to work mostly on time and feel aware in the mornings. It felt like the cloud lifted and my head was clearer.

Then I started the new job in January, and I felt energized and motivated. Also, my students did well and finished the skating season fabulously, earning an invitation to skate at the end of year gala with Olympians, where I shook Evan Lysacek’s hand and watched him give a $100,000 donation to my organization.

So earlier this year I began talking to my doctor about planning for a baby, and we started tapering off my meds. We started with Prozac because Wellbutrin had been the more recent addition and had helped a lot. We dropped the Prozac from 40 mg to 30, then to 20, and things seemed ok. So we dropped it to 10, and then planned to start reducing the Wellbutrin.

But somewhere around then things degraded. The increased stress and long hours of the new job had started taking their toll on me. I began crying too often and worrying and sleeping too much. The doctor said we had probably dropped it too fast, and we upped it half a pill, to 15. That was about a month ago.

Work continued to be stressful even as I enjoyed it and felt proud of it. Night and weekend work that had seemed like a temporary measure dragged on. I got a summer intern which relieved some of the pressure, but the work kept increasing and that wasn’t enough. We won more and more work from new clients, and the projects I led went extremely well, but I was getting worn-down.

The last few weeks I noticed increasing negative and repetitive thought patterns, and I found myself crying alone quite a few times. Finally, on Thursday about a week ago, I got so upset during the work day that I dashed to the bathroom so no one would see as the tears started. I finally had broken down, and I called my husband and told him how much I’d been struggling.

It was disheartening to reach that point, but it forced me to see that I must change something now to prevent a full relapse of depression. I saw my dr that eve and told him how I’d been feeling, and he said I sounded depressed and increased the Prozac back to 30. I talked to my boss and told him that I could not keep working nights and weekends, that there had to be an end in sight for that. Then I worked from home the next day and rested over the weekend. The next week, I forced myself to take full lunch breaks and go home at a decent time. And I took all my meds.

It’s been about 9 days and I’m starting to feel better. I want to keep writing, and focusing on my health and sanity. Maybe I’ll even stop lurking and let some of you know that I’ve been reading.

As December marches on

I am taking each day at a time. Some days I have energy and optimism and the day passes fairly quickly. These are few but increasing in frequency.

Other days, even on a good night’s rest, I can’t stop yawning well into the afternoon and my head feels funny, fuzzy like I have a hangover but I don’t.

Still, things are looking up. I got the job offer yesterday, and am planning to accept it tomorrow when he gets back to me about details. The timing is great because yesterday they fired my best friend at the office – who had just been saying that if I left, she’d need to get out more urgently. Well now she’s gone already, and the desk next to mine sits empty. I want out. Hopefully I can accept the new offer tomorrow and get my resignation in before the day is out.

I’m ecstatic, and yet reserved. I’ve wanted out for so long, it feels surreal to finally be ready to leave. It hasn’t fully sunk in yet. I’ll feel better tomorrow after I finalize and accept the new offer. And start telling my coworkers that I’m saying goodbye…

On Thursday I am meeting my deceased friend’s Aunt (her NY family) to talk about planning a memorial here in NYC. Meeting a family member who was at the funeral with the family will probably be more final – somehow without being at the funeral or wake, or in a community that all misses her, sometimes it feels like maybe it’s not so final and she’s just moved away…

I want to help plan a beautiful memorial for her here in NYC.

I can’t believe this horribly sad news

This morning, I learned horrible news about a friend of mine, a friend who had grown distant over the past year but with whom I had just been trying to re-establish a connection with, and who I still loved nonetheless.  I called her a month ago, she called me two weeks ago, I was going to call her back soon…

Now that is not possible, because last week she took her own life.  This is such devastatingly sad news, and I have not yet processed it fully yet.

The thing that bothers me the most is that I cannot honestly say that I had no idea that she was this disturbed.  I did know that she had a serious mental illness, although I never dreamed it would go so far in this direction.  I believed that her family and her religion and her religious community would support her through her struggles, and so even as I found it harder to connect as she got more and more into her religion, I took comfort in the thought that she had a strong support network in her family and other friends.  Or so I thought.

I knew she was sick, and it makes me feel that much worse that I didn’t reach out or wasn’t there for her or that she didn’t come to me.  I know in my rational, psychological-illness- experienced brain that suicidal thoughts are very personal and that I may not have been able to reach her even if I had known how much she was struggling.  Or that I could have seen her every day and never known that she was in such a dark place internally.  But even knowing that, it is hard not to think of what I might have done or said, if only we hadn’t grown apart, or if I had gotten back in touch with her sooner.

When she left our job last winter, I firmly believed she was experiencing a true manic episode.  That was when I first realized that she was not just the most optimistic and cheery person I had ever met, but that she was actually suffering from mental illness.  The type that leads you to make rash decisions which can have dire consequences.  I felt hurt at the time that she made such a snap decision to quit her job even as I had counseled her about making longer term plans to get out.  It was the beginning of the fading of what had become the closest friendship I’ve had in this office, at this job.  She was so much more than a coworker to me.  We went out together, we went fabric shopping (the fabrics she bought to make a skirt with are still in a bag in my apartment), she came to my apartment and we made sewing patterns, I attended her buddhist readings and chanting sessions, she came to see me skate and to an Ice Theatre show with me, and we talked often every day that we were in the office together.  We would e-mail each other to meet in the bathroom where one of us would have a good cry.  But then she quit, thinking that her part-time sales gigs and dancing would support her, and she was so confident and happy about it.

But there is not much you can do for someone in that manic state, because they don’t believe they need any kind of help.  All there really is to do is to be there for them when they crash from it and help them with the support they will need.  I wanted to be there for her, but she was getting harder to reach – I didn’t see her in the office and she wouldn’t always follow through on plans to meet or talk.  Also, it was her growing religious fervor that made it harder to stay close.  It was hard for me to talk with her when she would constantly return to the thought that this positive life force in the universe was going to make everything good and well and beautiful and that she could rely on it to do so. We drifted apart, and she called me on the day she left the city but left a message that wasn’t clear enough for me to realize she was leaving town, so I didn’t make it to see her that day.

A mutual friend tells me that shortly after that she stopped believing that crazy stuff, but I never knew – she never told me, and I am so sorry for that because I would have tried to help her see why life is beautiful and worthy even without the poppycock.  But I never had a chance to.  It is indescribably sad.

At the end of the summer the mutual friend told me that she was back in NYC.  I didn’t immediately contact her, because I wasn’t sure how I felt about our friendship.  But I knew that I missed her and called her one evening in early October.  I left her a message that I was sorry we hadn’t been in touch much and if she was interested I’d like to get together and catch up.  She called back about two weeks later, and she started with a preface that she had been so busy and there were so many people she hadn’t had time to catch up with, and that she was sorry about that, but that she was looking for work as a nanny or tutor and could I see if our other coworker might want her help when her baby came?  And I hadn’t responded for a little while, because I was hurt that it sounded like she was only calling me back when she thought I could help with something.  But I had thought it over and resolved to call her back and see her and tell her that it had upset me but that I still wanted to be friends and catch up.  I hadn’t gotten to it yet.

It sounds like she had family and friends around who would have been trying to offer their support and help her.  Since she had moved back to NYC, she had been staying with a friend who my coworker says was good for her.  And apparently back at her home she had been in therapy.  So she wasn’t alone, she had some type of support.  But whatever that support was, it wasn’t enough, and  it was just that they couldn’t reach her.  I don’t mean to think I am different, but I have had so many loved ones struggle with mental illness and I would have gladly welcomed and supported her if only we had reconnected sooner.

She is from Minneapolis, so the services will be there with her family, and I cannot attend.  They may have a NYC memorial later this month, so I’ve asked to be updated when they have details.

I still have the card she gave me on her last day at my office – it’s been on my cubicle wall ever since.  It is full of love and encouragement – just how I remember her most:

Flicka Mawa,

I will never forget your greatness or the greatness of your story, with your family, friends, and Husband.  It has been fun filled and fan’freakin’tastic!  I love you very much.  The world awaits to experience your greatness (and you in turn to experience theirs)!

Love,

Friend

Patterns in Depression and Dysthymia

Once, a few years back while in a therapy session, my doctor mentioned to me that although she didn’t like to label, she had diagnosed me with dysthymia. At the time I didn’t think much of it, figuring it was just a particular diagnostic class of depression and that I didn’t need to know the details. But for a number of reasons recently, I decided to look into what it meant. In short, dysthymia (sometimes called chronic depression) is a form of mood disorder which has similar symptoms to depression, but they are often milder and last longer, for years. For me, the symptoms could be described as varying levels of hypersomnia, hopelessness, anxiety, guilt, loss of interest, sadness, and excessive crying, although many people experience it differently.

I’ve always felt that I was particularly sensitive to environment, in that in certain surroundings and social groups, the effort it would take to pull myself out of my self-critical thought patterns and incessant negative thoughts was more than I could manage. So I carefully considered the location of my university choice so as to put me in the place I felt most comfortable. For me, that place is a big city: a place so abundant with people that although I am surrounded by them, very few of us have the time to observe our neighbors closely, care about their choices, or actually express to them that we are uncomfortable with their differences. To me, this is the place where I can be me, find others like me, and find the inner strength to not worry about whether or not I fit in and am liked by the people I encounter each day. Living in this city filled with life and energy quells my anxious thoughts and helps me to be both carefree and driven. I feel at home here, and I love to show my acceptance of all the varied people who are my neighbors. And I can find any service that I need quickly, while not having to return to the car culture that my youth was so entrenched in. I firmly believe that this is both a great place to be and a great place for me.

Dysthymic people can also suffer from major depressive episodes, in this case termed “double depression.” I think I’m beginning to see some patterns to when my stronger depressive episodes develop. This last few months, there have been similarities to the depressed period which had originally brought me to my therapist in the first place. It seems that I am very sensitive to my social environment. When I was skating, it meant my home club and coaches. In school this meant my classmates and professors. At work it’s my coworkers and bosses. While some uneasiness may kick in right after a switch (new semester, new job, etc.), I’m often buoyed for the initial period by my love of new things. To me something new is something to learn from, and I love learning. But after the newness wears off, generally 3 to 6 months in, things get bumpier. I often start to really notice the people around me, and in many cases I start to fixate on the feeling that I don’t belong.

As I write this, I can remember so many times when this has happened. The first instance when I felt this way to the degree that I was not in control of my thoughts was when I was 17, and my training routine at the rink had changed. I was skating full-time at a club that I had rarely felt quite right at, and I was not able to spend much time at my favorite club, the place where I really felt at home. Many of my closest friends, skaters at that club, had moved on to other things. My coaches had decided to teach exclusively at this place that never felt as homey, and I found myself surrounded by ambitious young skaters. I was unable to value the maturity and strength that my skating had, and I only saw myself as a giant among little girls in a sport where smallness is an advantage. The bulimia that had began less than a year earlier spiraled out of control, and by the end of the summer I decided to quit, thinking that taking myself out of this environment, this competitive skating world, would help me heal. At the time, I didn’t realize how long that process would take.

Years later, when I was a junior in college, it was the beginning of classes with other driven students from my major field of study that led to this place. At first I did well enough, enjoying the challenge and the new things to learn. But as the semester wore on, the attitude of my professors and classmates wore me thin. By Christmas I couldn’t bear to attend the Holiday Party for fear that my professors would secretly be laughing at me for thinking I had a place in the department. By spring, I was missing classes and homework assignments because I couldn’t bear to turn in what I thought was such poor work or even to get out of bed and face the day. At some point I got low enough to feel that I was out of control and that my school success was in danger, and I wrote an emotional, pleading e-mail to my Dean. And so began that road to recovery.

Having been acutely aware of my environment, when I found myself struggling not long after having entered my first office job, I figured it was pretty normal. I was in a new environment, a foreign environment to me, and it would take me time to learn the ropes and find my place. But now I think it’s more than that, and I’m beginning to see the similarities to other situations that have led me to this emotional place.

This time, I was nervous about the new setting and lifestyle. But for the first 3 months, I was happily engrossed in a high priority, fast-paced project. I drew energy from this and didn’t concern myself much with the coworkers who weren’t on the project. There were many instances of a coworker’s statement or behavior being an unpleasant surprise to me, but the good parts outweighed the bad, and I could almost say that I was loving my job.

Then, in July, that project’s major deadline passed and I didn’t have much to do for it anymore. My work day slowed down, and I took on more varied tasks requiring interaction with more of my coworkers. And the feeling that I didn’t belong grew stronger.

Now, It’s been 6 months since I started this job, and I’ve been feeling somewhat out of control of my thoughts and emotions for the past couple of months. By the end of August it was pretty clear to me that I was having more difficulty than normal, healthy people do. This was compounded by my period of no health insurance (I had to wait 3 months after my job began to get health benefits) and the difficulty I had in obtaining my antidepressant prescription, which I’d been on for over 5 years. I managed to get the Rx, but not without significant stress, cost, frustration, and two hospital visits.

It was at the second of those emergency visits (I had tried but been unable to find a psychiatrist that would see me, a new patient, on short notice, and my therapist was out of town) that I realized that my struggle to adjust was outside the bounds of healthy behavior. I confided in the doctor that I had cried at work almost every day the prior week, and she said that sounded like the meds weren’t working. She let me go home with a prescription and the promise that I would go to my new psychiatrist appointment the next week  and come back in if I couldn’t make it until then. To top things off, this particular visit marked the first day of our “staycation,” and I spent the whole day in the hospital (the wait was over 7 hours!). I resolved to shake the feeling that I couldn’t even properly enjoy a vacation from work, and Husband and I made the best of the rest of our time off.

Since then it’s been a struggle, but I see the light at the end of the tunnel. My insurance has kicked in and I’ve found a psychiatrist that I feel comfortable with. We increased my dosage in September, and things have gotten only slightly more manageable. He said if things were still rough by this week, I should go back in and we’ll try a combination instead. So I will do that this week, and try it out for a while. Between him, my therapist, and the support of my husband and friends, I will get out of this rough patch too.

*Edited slightly from original posting