The Fog Always Lifts

March is over.

Thank goodness.

I don't know what causes it - the stars, the ides, my luck - but March has been a historically difficult month for me. Some years it's sickness. One year brought a miscarriage, two other years it was the month miscarried babies were to be born. Still a different year, my grandfather, in the early stages of dementia, disappeared. He was found a week later in our neighboring state, disoriented and looking for home. His car was drivable, but a wreck. Where had he been?

I feel a bit like that car after last month. I'm still in working order, but it's hard to say where I've been. My pen stopped writing. I felt heavy. There were far too many moments that I felt like jumping in the car, blasting my Lumineers playlist, and getting lost.

But it's April now, and it's going to be alright.

It's normal to feel like this occasionally. It happens to everyone. Studies show that the gifted may be affected by depression to a higher degree due to our heightened responses to emotions.

This particular round brought a suitcase full of negative self-talk.

"You can't do this."
"Why are you trying? You're doing an awful job."
"You have let this happen."
"Look what _____ is doing. Why can't you do that?"
"Why did you say that? You sound so stupid."
And a whole course of other unkind words.

I am a naturally optimistic person. Where others see a problem or pathology, I usually find the hope and the benefits of the situation. But sometimes the pessimism creeps in like a weed and becomes a struggle to uproot.

image: Hammonton Photography

So what to do?

1. Self-Affirmation, or Be Your Best Friend.

When I counsel teens, I often mention self-affirmation. I say, "Look in the mirror. Tell yourself three positive things about you. Do it every day. Soon, you'll mean it, and it won't be difficult to think of them anymore."

Have I been doing this myself? No. Instead, I've been berating myself in my head for what I have and haven't done, for what my kids are and aren't doing, for how I sounded on that phone call, for how my jeans fit...and on and on.

I have to be my own best friend. If I wouldn't say it to my best friend, I shouldn't say it to myself.

2. Reach Out. Talk to a Someone, or Write it Down.

Tell a friend how you are feeling. Talk to a loved one. If that seems insurmountable, get a journal. Write a letter that describes how you feel, maybe several. Describe the hopelessness. Ask yourself what life feels like when you are not in this place, and how you will know when it’s getting better.

Just mentioning how I was feeling to a friend, without detail, but acknowledging it, was the first step in managing my feelings. The cloud I was was under lost a bit of its force, and I was able to write about it to myself in detail.

3. Get Outside. Get Some Exercise.

Sunlight and fresh air does wonders for the mental state. It's spring now. Taking a quiet walk, noticing the budding leaves and flowers brings me some new perspective. If you are a runner who has been languishing through the colder months, put those running shoes back on and clear your head. Kara at Quill and Camera recommended this 7 minute workout app for those with limited time, and it looks great.

I've started jogging in the morning or doing yoga. Both get my endorphins going and I feel the effects for the whole day.

4. Do Something Nice for Yourself. 

Buy yourself some bright flowers. Make something pretty. Give yourself a few moments to sit in silence and breathe. Get that book you've been meaning to read.

I just bought a new spring dress, and I plan to wear it and walk in sunshine and tell myself happy things.

5. Practice Mindfulness.
You hear that so often these days that it sounds like just another buzzword. Why is it important?. It's easy to get so caught up in just surviving that we forget to stop and notice how we feel right now.

I find my most peaceful moments with my youngest, once her unending energy has calmed and she is asleep. I snuggle up and breathe deeply with her. I visualize all of my stresses seeping out of me and out of her window because they are simply not allowed in her room.

Concentrate less on how you felt yesterday, or might feel tomorrow. Be present in today.


It feels as though I am alone during these melancholy days, but I know I'm not. I'd love you to comment and tell me how you get through the more difficult times!

image: Indy Kethdy
Haiku: Tyler Knott Gregson

Resources:

The Benefits of Mindfulness and Meditation (Left Brain Buddha)

Depressive Disorder in Highly Gifted Adolescents (SENG)

Exercising When You're Depressed

Self-help Strategies for Depression

The Psychology of Change: Self Affirmation and Social Psychological Intervention (Stanford)

6 Practical and Powerful Ways to Overcome Depression

The Days of Disconnect

I like to call it his bi-monthly angst. He mopes around the house and questions his choices, his career. Feels like all is fruitless, doesn't matter. Wants to change the world, but feels like he will never change the world. I wait it out, fight my own descent into it. I am an optimist. I will not be taken down by the sink.

But then, it catches me, completely unawares.

What? I don't do this. I am not depressed. This is not my thing.

The first day, I just feel antsy, full, like there is something inside me that needs to break out. I am restless around the house. Tired of cleaning, tired of laundry. I run 2 fast miles, but it's not enough. I do some research. I read a book. I plan an outline for a class I could teach this fall. I want to teach my children, play with them, but they are wrapped in a lovely imaginary world together that requires no facilitation on my part. I am just an interruption.

I feel stagnant. My house is stuffy. I am stuffy. I am not progressing the way I would like to. I have all of this frantic energy and it is tiring. Time, money, guilt, fear of failure, all keeping me in this room. Do I need sunshine? More friends? Am I lonely? Most of my connections are online, and on days like this, they feel like imaginary friends. My computer is quiet and doesn't drink coffee or wine, or make me laugh...

By the end of this day, I am unhappy with everyone. I don't really notice, but they do.

The next day, I wake up in the "depths of despair", as my dear Anne Shirley would say. I make myself get out of bed, drink my coffee, try to write a little, but mostly just stare at the screen.

My thoughts swirl around me while the rest of my household sleeps in peace.

What am I doing with my life? I should go back to school, get the degree I set out to get in the first place. The resources are 10 minutes away, but the money has been spent...I owe debts for a job that I no longer hold, to pay for a degree I don't want to use anymore. Am I doing the right thing, staying home with my children, letting them explore the world? Should I be teaching them more structure, using more curriculum? Are they going to end up in their teens having learned nothing about discipline and perseverance, because their mother didn't push them hard enough? I want to change the world...I will never change the world. I need a good cry.  

The air this morning is suffocating, closing in around me. I feel disconnected.


The kids wake up. I struggle to get them breakfast. C, my three year old emotional barometer, begins to act up. She is defiant, pulling at my clothes, hurting me, refusing to comply with anything. My frustration rises and I lose my temper. I hold her and try not to cry and apologize. She takes my face in her hands and looks into my eyes with understanding. She is once again feeling, reading, responding to my emotions. She is acting out my defiance, my pain, my frustration. We sit and snuggle for awhile and both feel better.

I have to find my happy face, or it is going to be a difficult day for everyone.

I wait for it to pass. I hope I am not just burying it further, to grow stronger roots.

I remember reading a beautiful description of self-portrait color therapy by The Younger Mrs. Ward, and decide to give it a try. I am not able to be all alone while I color as she advises, but my girls get out their paints and we all create together. It's nice. I begin as suggested, with a face profile, and make random shapes from there. I don't choose my colors in advance; I use what strikes me. My daughters admire my art while I again push back the tears.

When I am finished, however, I feel remarkably better. The fog is beginning to lift. I smile for what feels like the first time in two days while the girls show me their artwork.

We play together and I look at my picture every now and then. My husband returns from his job. The girls show them their "work" from the day. He looks at the bulletin board and asks them about my picture, which conveys more than I intended. "Who made this sad lady? It looks like she is crying an ocean of black tears. I hope she gets to that green part soon; it looks peaceful."

 
Me too.

My children continue to react to my emotional state...all of these sensitive souls bouncing off one another. B is disrespectful and angry. C is sad and clingy. I end up asking my husband to put them to bed, instead of following our usual bedtime routine. I feel guilty, neglectful.

I wake up a few long days later and stay in bed. I keep my eyes closed and assess how I am feeling from head to toe. I think I am better. I lay completely still until I am sure that I feel better than yesterday. I get some coffee. I don't check email or look at my computer at all. I just sit, and drink the coffee, and think. I go for a run, but run more slowly, paying attention to the trees and mountains and lovely views in my neighborhood. I eat breakfast. I sit in quiet and do nothing. I take a hot shower. I cautiously approach my day. I look at the picture I drew a few days before, and don't feel as connected to it. I give in to the temptation to turn on the computer, and spend some time reading articles from Sarah at Left Brain Buddha, whose blog always gives me something to think about. I bookmark some mindfulness activities.

The kids and I have a good day. My husband checks in on me and acknowledges that I sound much better. The hopelessness has lessened. I start making plans, researching options, clean up the house. It's sunny outside. We share happy hugs and have fun. The storm has passed for now.



To learn more about existential depression and giftedness...

Existential Depression in Gifted Individuals

Gifted Sensitive, in Need of Meaning: Existential Depression

Dabrowski's Theory and Existential Depression in Gifted Children and Adults

What is Existential Depression?