Category: depression

Anger

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This week has been hard at work, plus it’s been two months since reducing Fluoxetin to 10mg a day, plus we had full moon on Monday and I started my period, with the mood swings that evince. Whichever element has had an impact on my mood this week, I don’t know. All I know is that this week I have been very, very angry. I am angry for the injustice that I am experiencing at work, and this anger makes me fuel more anger towards all the injustices I received during my life, big disappointments such as my sister in law. As if work and family weren’t enough, I think of other reasons why to be angry, and I am really angry. It’s as if I were searching for reasons to be angry. In my mind I go over ways to revenge each and every injustice, I make a film in my head where I have a conversation with my colleague, or with my sister in law L., and I go over and over and over through it in my head until I am satisfied of the outcome. Although the outcome is never satisfying, cause it’s just a preparation of what I want to tell these people in person. Then I could be really satisfied. Explode in front of them, tell them what I think of their miserable life, where they are so weak they have to find in someone else the reason of their deep rooted dissatisfaction. L. was left by my brother because of another woman (and many other reasons), and now she stopped talking to me and my parents, while she still speaks to her husband. Why are we to blame?

Yesterday I was so angry that I cried during the entire meditation session. I tried to stick to the breathing mantra, but yesterday my thoughts were overwhelming. This morning I didn’t even try to meditate; I woke up angry making films in my head again. Darn. What is it? Why am I so angry? Is it the effect of Fluoxetin? Is it the menstrual mood swings? Is it the real injustice I face at work, where this woman is jealous of me and my achievements? Is it what Dr. G., my psychologist says, that I have a fascination for dissatisfaction? Is it maybe also the frustration during my whole life of wanting to be good to people and doing efforts and sacrifices towards them that are misunderstood and not gratified as I deserve?

I don’t know. I just know that I want to write it down, so I can read this when I am less angry and make a “cold blood” analysis (a sangue freddo) of all of this.

I realise I care too much about what people think of me, I want everyone to love me, like I love everyone. I see life in pink, others don’t, but how can I act so that instead of them dragging me down to their dark world, I lift them up to my rose world? That again goes back to how we see the glass, it’s either half full or half empty. And why should they succeed in making me see the glass empty instead of full? How can I make them see the full side?

So my anger, I think, comes from the many years’ frustration of subsiding to others’ bad tempers and moods, just because I am able to adapt myself to others, I am flexible, understanding and ….. well THE HELL with all that! Today I am me, I regain my own dignity and right to be me, and others have to model their own behaviour to fit mine, and not the other way round, FOR ONCE. The hell with L., who has been jealous for years of my great relationship to my brother, and now that they are separated, she blames me and my family for being the source of her bad luck, well, I have a lot to say about that and about her. To hell with Trump, to hell with my colleague who feels threatened because I work well, to hell with everybody who is not strong enough to face me. I will no longer lower my intelligence for the sake of others. This has hurt me over the years, and I think more and more that this has been one major element leading to my depression.

Like Claire Underwood said at the end of season five: My turn now.

The North Wind

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A month and a half ago I halved the intake of Fluoxetin, otherwise known as Prozac. From 20mg to 10mg every morning. So far so good. A couple of changes occurred, but I cannot tell if its psychological suggestion or chemical adjustment in my body. I want to understand this better, and discern between self induced effects, placebo effects and real medical effects. No matter what happens in my body, I am still happy and satisfied about what I am doing. Work is going well, very well indeed, I have closed a major deal for the company, and in a new field, aviation, which I like much more than automotive. I am very proud of how I handled this deal and the negotiations since January. It all went pretty smoothly and quickly. 6 months of talks for a very good outcome. I gave myself a good pack on my back. And so did my CEO and the whole company. We popped two bottles of good champagne at work, and F. made a speech announcing I had made the biggest deal in the company’s history. What a good satisfaction. And if I think that only 7 months ago I wanted to quit.

One thing I am learning about this anti-depression process: to cultivate patience, and to fight my perfectionism. More things I am learning, which I will write as I go.

Patience is a big deal for me. And acceptance of a certain routine. I realised that over the last 14 of my relationship with W., and even before, basically since I left Italy to go and live in Germany in 1998, I have not been in one place or one job for more than 2-3 years. Events in life, jobs made redundant, W. entering my life (he is still the love of my life, although we are no longer together), new passions being born, the quest for film making, the eagerness of seeing the world, the choice we had to change our lives when we saw fit and how we pleased, made me wonder around the globe, traveling across oceans to beautiful places, living in the turquoise beaches of the Caribbean, moving to South Africa to pursue a film career, going to Canada to work at the Olympics, going back to Italy for a short while (3 years) setting up a company I didnt want to create, getting angry at life in Rome, leaving again, etc etc. I realised I have not been in one place for more than 2-3 years in the last 20 years. Whereas my childhood and my youth have been very regular, filled with routine. And my youth was very happy. I realise now that Alain de Botton is right when he says that in love we seek to reproduce the familiarity of what we are used to in our childhood. I recommend one of his speeches at Zeitgeist. Where I am getting at is that, also in life, not only in love, we seek balance based on what is familiar to us since the beginning. Now, I still need to understand why I was so attracted to a life without rules, and I still am, but why this has over 20 years damaged my self esteem, my happiness, and my relationship to the greatest man for me. Everytime I didn’t like what I was doing, I (I should say, we) would pack up and leave. I am like Juliette Binoche in Chocolat: I leave from village to village at the blow of the north wind.

Once I returned to Switzerland, helas without W., it was 20 years after I left my home in Rome, the home of routine, familiar habits, and the love of my family. I wondered in this world for 20 years, 14 of which with the love of my life, and now that I am back in CH, my life has been shaken from the core. I had to stop, in a very harsh and hard way, and depression has been the climax of this journey. There’s more to say, but I need to get up and go to my next meeting. Life is full of surprises, definitely worth living every bit of it, even the suffering parts. I am growing through this process. I am learning to be patient. I will find my answer, but not yet today.

10mg

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I am back in Rome for a week. My mom had an urgent surgery due to a hernia that was pushing against the root of the nerve (L4 level), and caused her tremendous pain plus was preventing electric impulse from flowing in her left leg. Bref, as we say in French, I had to rush down to Italy from Lausanne, which was not easy, since COvid measures are still not totally relaxed between countries, and I had to start a sort of pilgrimage to the holy city, which entailed taking the train from Zurich to Chiasso, walk to the Italian border with a big luggage, the laptop bag and a plant for my mom, catch a bus to Como station, and jump on a train hoping it would lead me to Milano Centrale. Almost, it took me to Porta Garibaldi, a few metro stations from my destination. I slept in Milan at an Airbnb, and at 6am the next morning I took the Frecciarossa train to Rome. It took me almost 24h to get there.

A few days earlier I had asked my psychiatrist to reduce Fluoxetin. As I said in another post, the self isolation time has helped me work on myself, and do mental exercises that have helped me get stronger, and feel that my core happiness that I am regaining is due more and more to me and not to the medicament. He agreed to reduce from 20mg to 10mg. Big step for me. I was worried about the consequences, and the effects or side effects it would have on me. I am still very careful, and am being vigilant to the mood shifts I may have. I started 10mg on 5 June, and today is 15 June. Already ten days.

I can’t tell what exactly is the effect of the reduction, but I can certainly tell that my stomach is adjusting to the new intake. I was taking another brand of Fluoxetin, which was in gel capsules (with powder inside), and I had to change it to another brand (solid tablets) because I need to cut the tablet in two (there is no 10mg pill, at least in CH). I can tell that my stomach has been burning during the day, and I am sure it is because of this change. So, that is clear.

What is less clear is whether the reduction is making me more angry, or whether it is my hormonal state. It so happens that I started the reduction just as I was about to have my period. I take Estrogens and Progesterone regularly because in the past years I had started having less and less menstruation (at about 42), as if I were in pre-menopause. I know now that this pre or peri-menopause is due to the stress my mind and soul found themselves in, a slow process towards depression that has blocked my body functions. Just like a high level sportswoman who has no more menstruation because of the strain the training has on her body.

In the past 4-5 days I have found myself angrier, and more “delicate”. I love this word, delicate, Roy from “The IT Crowd” very cutely says it at the episode called “Aunt Irma”. You have to watch this : Series 1 Episode 6 . Hilarious. So, yes, I think I am sensitive because of my period, but my period started and didn’t continue at this round, so that’s another story. I am guessing that I have been hormonally challenged, and on top of that work has been exciting yet stressful, a lot to think about and to follow up on; couple that with the long journey to Rome and the worry that the surgeon might injure my mom even more, I was ready to kill somebody 3 days ago! I didn’t literally kill, but I was very vocal with my words, and found myself being angry at every little thing that was happening to me, all the more when the little thing was against my self. Example: a colleague who didn’t want to help me at work, or the train manager who didn’t want me to get on the train; the lady at the Airbnb who was not talkative and was rather dry (she did her job though, handed me the keys to the room and showed me the kitchen), but I wanted her to be more lovely, just like I am with my guests at home.

Bref…. (long story short), here I am in Rome, I finally made it. My mom had her surgery, she is fine and now I will work from Rome remotely, nursing my mother and giving my father a break. They are getting old. I still don’t know whether my mood swing towards anger had to do with the 10mg, or with my period. Maybe a bit of both? I will monitor the situation and will revert asap.

More soon.

Perfectionism: how to’s

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In another post I was talking about one of the reasons I have slowly and constantly come to depression. It’s my sense of perfectionism. There are a lot of words ending in “ism”: we borrowed this suffix from the Greeks and the Latins. If I search for its meaning, I stumble upon the Dictionary, which defines it a suffix used in “the formation of nouns denoting action or practice, state or condition, principles, doctrines, a usage or characteristic, devotion or adherence, etc.“. There’s criticism, egoism, intellectualism, humanitarianism, instrumentalism, photojournalism, fraternalism, etc. In medical terms, it denotes “a medical condition or a disease resulting from or involving some specified thing” (from the medical dictionary). Wow, a disease, even…

Just when I thought that perfectionism was a strength in somebody’s character, I realised it can be either way, and for me it was (it IS) more of a “condition”. I won’t call it weakness, as opposed to strength, because I can see how perfectionism can serve us well in many situations. In my case, over time perfectionism has become a hindrance. Why? Because, unless something was perfectly executed, it wasn’t worth spending time on it. I am talking about everyday habits as well as work practices or sport. I won’t put makeup on unless I have a nice dress, matching shoes, and a good hairdo. I won’t clean the kitchen after cooking unless I clean it to the very last corner; once I start cleaning there’s no stopping me. But because it’s such an endeavor in my mind, it is rare I do cleaning every day after cooking. another example: I will procrastinate writing a report for work, because I can already envision the whole picture as being complex and a lot of work to execute perfectly. So I leave it to another moment. And I postpone by telling myself there are other easier tasks I can do before I get into that bigger task. So I start making calls, updating my calendar, add customers to my CRM, etc…

Oh, yes. Procrastination. It goes hand in hand with perfectionism. A podcaster’s account on her perfectionism felt so familiar when I listened to her 7-minute story. Listen to her: it’s really good. Elly Varrenti. So, immediate gratification is partly the reason of our constant dissatisfaction. If we don’t get it now, we don’t want to do the effort. And, even if you do succeed, you won’t be happy anyway. Failure is considered by me failure, in a negative way; but what if I start looking at my results, albeit not perfect, as positive? Elly says: “There’s good failure and bad failure […] as there’s a difference between passion and ambition, winning and accomplishment. […] The secret to happiness is rising from the ashes of disappointment, humiliation, aching inadequacy, and just getting on with it“. Like Winston Churchill said: “If you are going through hell, keep going“. Thank you Elly for quoting Churchill. He must have been a very interesting and wise man. He is also the author of the line “Never, never, never give up“. And I shan’t!

A bit of diversion that took me to Churchill and to the Australian correspondent to ABC, to remind myself that now I now know one strategically important thing: I am a perfectionist and I can recover from it. I am already working on this, and believe me: it is a super difficult task.

Oh, and we haven’t spoken about OCDs…. oh well, let’s tackle it in another post.

Between Mother Theresa and Claire Underwood

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Ego: the part of the mind that mediates between the conscious and the unconscious and is responsible for reality testing and a sense of personal identity.

https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-d&q=what+is+the+meaning+of+ego

I find fascinating this process I have put myself in: observing myself every day, for 30 minutes, through sheer breathing patterns. Myself is a broad word, and there’s more to us than just what we see, feel or perceive. It’s all of the above and more. We are probably the most fascinating species on this planet, at least to us, humans. We fascinate ourselves, that’s for sure. And we want to study each other, trying to be as objective as possible. Not easy, because we are at the same time the subject and the object of our study. Take a psychoanalyst for example, he or she must study the mind, the ego, the consciousness of somebody who looks, breathes, acts, reacts almost exactly like him or her. The mind has always fascinated me, like I am sure many of you. even more now, that I find myself having to deal with my thoughts in ways I haven’t done my whole life. And I am doing it because of a very clear goal: fight depression. I don’t like to call it a war against an evil being, because all is in me, and evil and good are both parts of our existence, but at the stage that I have come to be, only 5 months ago, I assure you it became a war, a war of survival, defeating this invisible virus (and I am not talking about COvid 19), this insidious pod that grows in you without you noticing until it’s late. But not too late.

Why the title to my today’s post? As I am learning about myself, my ego and my hard to detect feelings, as I try to listen to my guts (Agata is her name :-), thank you Casa de Papel) and observe as the thoughts come through my mind, making sure I don’t hang on to them but let go as they come, like when watching a movie, frame by frame, observing and letting go, well, when I do all of that, I focus during the day of not letting external events affect myself, including my ego. Ego is a big thing, and can make us miserable as well as invincible. In me there’s Mother Theresa, the sweet selfless person who dedicates her life to others, who tries to understand everyone and justifies everything by putting herself aside, and then there’s Claire Underwood (have you ever watched House of Cards?), the lady at the opposite end of the scale of good and evil, the one who will do anything to survive and prevail over others, whose moral values are as relevant as the brightest star at daylight. My personal pendulum leans naturally towards Mother Theresa, but let me tell you that my attempt to understand others and put myself behind others’ needs, just because I could do it, has not paid benefits over the years. And I am now trying to objectively observe and modify my own behaviour towards being more Claire than Theresa. Don’t worry, I won’t kill anyone :-), but I will make my own needs more a priority, I will not justify every time why I do this or I say that. I will think more of me.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not a completely selfless person, I am a human being with all the characteristics of a human, I have my temper, I have my faults, and I am wrong many times, but time has come that I give the right weight to my own traits, my thinking, my opinion, my gut feelings, my instincts. Basta with listening to others because it’s easier, because I am able to listen and to let the other vent out…what about my venting out? what about my personal well being?

About the ego: I often mention it as a negative thing, like when the ego makes us more arrogant, or vulnerable, or aggressive. I want to learn more about my ego. I think ego is a way for me to find a balance between what I tell myself and what I don’t but, yet, I do think subconsciously. I’ll explore my dreams some more.

All this post has arisen because a dear friend made me angry on Sunday (two days ago). I felt that she didn’t think of my own needs and reasons. She was angry because I decided to do sports with someone else, and didn’t invite her. What about all the other gestures I showed her on that same day, Sunday? thinking about a way to get to see her right after sport, knowing she is very busy these days and doesn’t allow time for sport? What about my own feelings being hurt, and my own ego feeling sore? I stopped talking to her. I know, I am in my forties not twenties, oh well …. This friendship is dear to me and it is the first time in 2-3 months that I have felt down, angry and upset, the blissful state I have been in, joyful, happy, serene, motivated, etc, has gone on Sunday and I felt vulnerable again. Because of her. So I decided to stand my ground, and I won’t let go until she apologises. Is it right? not sure. What does the ego say? I can’t hear it right now.

More soon.

Perfection and Depression

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While meditating yesterday morning, the strive for perfection came to mind. In November 2019, at the peak of my existential crisis, I went to see a behavioural psychologist, recommended by a friend who had seen a friend being consulted successfully by this woman. And during one of the 4 sessions I did, she told me about perfectionism. I had never thought of it as of a “condition”. I just googled it and the first site that comes up is Good Therapy (never heard of that before), where perfectionism is considered a positive trait in one’s personality, but it can cause destructiveness because we never think we are doing well enough. Wikipedia writes: “Perfectionism, in psychology, is a personality trait characterized by a person’s striving for flawlessness and setting high performance standards, accompanied by critical self-evaluations and concerns regarding others’ evaluations. […] In its maladaptive form, perfectionism drives people to attempt to achieve unattainable ideals or unrealistic goals, often leading to depression and low self-esteem.” Then the Google search was suggesting searching for the word “procrastination”, that other people have also searched when looking up “perfectionism”.

Wow, I never thought of looking online for a definition of perfectionism. All of the above is spot on me. And so I was thinking, while meditating, that striving for perfection has been a constant motive for my growing depression over the years. Too bad I didn’t consult a specialist back 10 years ago, or 15. I could have maybe spared myself lots of grieving in the past 4 years. Or was the grieving a necessary step? This I will never know. It all happened and I am dealing with it now. No chance to go back in the past, that is for sure, it’s the only certainty we have, beside for the certainty that one day we will die. So between the day we are born and the day we die, a lot of things happen, and we deal with them, one way or another. Life is beautiful, exciting, dramatic, sentimental, rational, evil, compassionate, selfish and selfless. All is in me, and I feel it now, as I am trying hard to not put labels of morality judgment to what I have experienced.

Back to perfectionism, it is one of the elements of my life that I am now observing from distance, using exactly the same method I use while meditating: breathe in, breathe out, observe the thought coming through, don’t clench to it, let it go again, and keep breathing. It is such a rejuvenating experience, this meditation. Had you asked me to meditate in November (which I tried by the way), I would have said ” no chance”. I was simply too distressed, too anxious, too sad, too depressed and desperate to even remotely accept to sit for 30 minutes, or even 5 minutes, doing nothing else but breathe. When I tried in November and December several times, my thoughts were so pèowerful over me that I was overwhelmed by them and the only way to not feel worse than I already felt, was to stop meditating. Meditating meant being too much with myself, and I hated to be with myself.

M., the behavioural psychologist, noticed that I was too deep down in my chasm to help me get up by working purely on a shift in my behaviour. I was simply not ready. She recommended I go to a Psychiatrist and get medical help. My mother is the one who insisted, when she came to visit me in November. I was crying every day, despite her company and love, nothing was useful to make me feel better. I was so miserable, so miserable I can’t even think about it without feeling sad again. So, please forgive me if I won’t recollect those thoughts yet. I feel much better now, really good actually, and want to enjoy this process. I will gather my courage and when I am ready to speak about the darkest moments of my life, you will be the first to know.

Stay safe, take care.

Note to self: I need to speak about Procrastination.

Four months later

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Sorry I haven’t been active on this blog lately. 11 December was the last time I wrote a page of this diary. Lots has happened in between, at the time I am writing (13 April 2020) it has been my 4th week in isolation due to Coronavirus (CoVid 19), a pandemic that has hit the whole world. Had I been in the state I was last time I wrote on this blog, I would not have been able to resist 4 weeks (and counting) at home by myself. Luckily, or shall I say, thanks to the drastic actions taken in November, I am managing.

I need to joggle my memory back 3-4 months, and remember what happened between the day I was desperate, depressed, crying and without energy, to now. It feels I am a totally different person. It doesn’t only feel, it is. Today I am what I used to be before depression started growing in me. And that didn’t take 2-3 months, but years. Ok, so what happened that makes me feel good today?

Many factors. Personal, professional, physical, therapeutical. After about 4-5 weeks of taking Fluoxetin my spirit started to feel serene again. My psychiatrist (the congolese jolly bubbly man) told me it would take 2 weeks before it has an effect. Another psychiatrist (who replaced him for a while) told me it takes rather 4-6 weeks. I thought “can’t they agree on one version already?”. It turns out that the 4 to 6-week-interval was correct. I don’t feel any side effect (nausea, lack of appetite, insomnia), only a sense of peace and detachment from my issues. Is it more serotonin or dopamine being injected into my brain by way of my stomach? Whatever hormone it is, or chemical rebalance, I haven’t felt this good in years, and I have noticed and appreciated the whole process of taking my life back into my hands.

What also happened in these past months is a change at work. My CEO and my head of department had noticed a negative change in me, the depressive state I was in, and have been very understanding and supportive (God bless former start up PMEs around the world!). They both know I love international travels, and they noticed a clear change in my moods from end of July until December 2019; so they proposed I take on more international clients. 20-30% for now, as the bulk of our business is still in CH. But that decision took me to Slovenia and then to Israel. In Israel I worked for 5 days, and took 8 days off. It was fantastic: new country, new people, great colleagues, and exploring the country on my free time like I hadn’t done in a long long time. Holidays just like I love them: with no planning, just take the car south from Tel Aviv and then back north, east and west; keep driving, stop whenever there’s something great to see or do. Great as in bathing in the Dead Sea, seeing Ben Gurion’s kibbutz, swim in the ocean, bathe in a rafted river, and drive on a 4×4 through the Golan Heights. I felt alive again. And what amazing food. And people.

Every psychiatric process has to be accompanied by a psychological one. Without psychological therapy that helps you figure out “you”, medicine remains only a palliatif. My psychologist has been helpful to me. Initially I thought he wasn’t the greatest practitioner on earth, but he told me a couple of things that made me reflect. The biggest one for me is when he said that I have a certain fascination for dissatisfaction. Une fascination pour l’insatisfaction, as he said in French. He is right. Another one is that I look at the big picture and the higher goal, without giving time to the small steps that help me achieve that goal, hence I quickly get overwhelmed and impatient (oh, patience, what I virtue I know nothing of!), and I am unsatisfied by what I consider non-achievement.

Sport and yoga have been very helpful. As soon as my motivation to get up from bed raised, I could feel the energy and mental strive to move and do what I love: sport. I remember that when I joined the fitness club in September, I was going there crying, thinking “look at how you have ended up, you who love outdoor activities, freedom and fresh air”; fitness was for me another failure to add to the long list I had been piling up over the last months. But 3-4 months in, I now appreciate the indoor activity, as it keeps me trained, and I will be able to better hike, swim, climb, kitesurf etc thanks to this. Yoga is also very very good. It is a philosophy of life, its not sport, and its not only meditation, its a way for me to discipline my mind through my body and breath. I’ll talk about meditation in another post. That is a biggy for me.

Another thing that happened during these past months is Covid. You’ll wonder how Covid can possibly have a positive influence in my life. Well, I am still amidst the turmoil that this invisible virus has created in our modern world, and I am forced to stay at home and to be with myself. But what a timing for my own personal situation. I am getting to appreciate and love me again. In big part thanks to the medical help, but more and more thanks to the actions I am taking in order to replace the chemical wellbeing with my innate joy for life. And it’s working.

Fluoxetin

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This is what is looks like, Fluoxetin:

Very unsexy name, I got it prescribed last week for the first time. My mood was too low and I couldn’t see any joy in anything I was doing. I have fought so many times to avoid getting to this stage, and here I am, taking antidepressants. Another unsexy word – antidepressants. We could have come up with a more compassionate word, one that includes the hope of healing. In Africa they use so many refreshing words (like Ubuntu – brotherhood, sounds so nice), we could have gone to an African tribe and asked “what healing name would you give to an epidemic disease that’s spreading in the first world?”. They would probably look at us in disbelief. Depression: what’s that? We haven’t got that far up into Maslow’s pyramid!

True, ‘cause depression is a disease of people like you and me whose basic needs have been already fulfilled. We are not fighting to drink, eat or find shelter. All of that is already taken care of. We are among the few lucky in this world. I have time to think of how to fulfill myself in this lifetime; I have money to take a holiday, buy furniture and new clothes; I never felt really hungry in my life; my grandmother used to describe to me what hunger was, during World War One and Two – I could try to imagine, but that was it.

I got sidetracked, but there is a reason for it: the very first psychiatrist I ever visited, who gave me the Fluoxetin you see in the picture, is a Congolese doctor. Man, he must be thinking “what a first world problem to have” …. I am not sure I trust him yet (I don’t trust doctors in general) but his jolly, bubbly, slightly over-weighted self is comforting.

It takes two to three weeks for the medicament to have an effect; I am down to week 1. First two days I cried, was anxious and panicking, I wanted to scream at the doctor that he should have warned me. Be warned: the first effect of an antidepressant can make you more depressed. Great! Had I known, I could have been prepared. Next few days have been better. I took three days off work, which helped.

It’s been now one week, and since a couple of days my afternoons are feeling normal, serene, like I haven’t been feeling in a long time. Since July 2019 (five months ago) I have been falling into a sad sad mood, not one day of joy and nothing to look forward to. So, this white and green pill I am taking is making me feel better, and hallelujah for modern medicine! Bring it on, inject chemicals in me that have been missing: serotonin, dopamine, endorphins, whatever works. It feels good.

Side effects: stomach burns (you need to eat well before taking it), one or two morning spasms when waking up (you know the feeling of when you wake up before you fall?), not a big deal, I guess, and anxiety in the morning – which diminished the last 2-3 days because I took 3 days off work.

A good friend (who has been through this) told me I should take time for myself, get a sick leave, and spend one or two weeks resting. I took 3 days only (I feel too responsible towards the company). Tomorrow I have to go to Lugano for work. I will be testing my moods, it should be ok. I have to work to earn money, but I may have to tell my Director to slow down on my tasks. Maybe work 80% (In Switzerland this is possible).

Another good day. I posted this note. Tomorrow is work day, we’ll see how anxiety goes. Thank you for reading. Eventually.

Podcast progress: maybe some today, after this post is up.

The idea of a diary

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My friend suggested that I write a diary about my moods, so I can re-read it after some time and gauge how things evolve; develop a sort of distant approach that allows me to see more clearly, more objectively, sometime in the future.

I never been much into diaries, and my worry is that I won’t be constant. What’s the point of writing if no one reads? If I put my diary in the drawer, for sure nobody will read it. But also, what’s the point in not writing, if It could really help me feel better? Maybe keeping a diary will help me heal from this problem I find myself in. But having a reader would help me be constant. Definitely. Writing these couple of lines feels strange already.

So, no reader hidden in my bedside drawer, I checked. No reader: no motivation. So, why don’t I make an online diary, where you, whom I don’t know, might stumble today or tomorrow upon my tales and will tune in, read, comment, be my motivation to write. Why is motivation so important? You’ll see if you stick around.

Oh, have I told you what I will write about? They call it the epidemic of the century; for years I have known it as mood swing, frustration, sadness, but never dared to call it depression, cause that word has so much medical connotation and I feel its meaning slips out of my own control and becomes something to be treated with drugs.

Why write now? Because I am smack in the middle of it, fighting with all my teeth, arms, toes, until this devastating state of mind finally leaves me for good. I am not at the end of the tunnel, so I don’t yet know the ending to my story. Which should make it interesting for you to follow. How will it end? Well, one thing I know for sure: this is a fight, and I intend to win. Life is too beautiful to waste it being sad. But man, I didn’t know how deep is the bottom.

Why online? Besides for what I wrote above, I feel it makes sense: you go to YouTube, Facebook, Instagram, there’s mostly messages and videos of happy people, and people who tell you how to be happy. But what about the myriad of us who are in a state of unhappiness? Where’s our voice? I feel being depressed is seen as a stigma. Even I have stopped posting photos of myself; and I might resume once I am happy again. Did you notice? Nobody ever published a photo of Robin Williams depressed, and yet he was. One of the most amazing comedians of our times, who made us all laugh for years, he was victim of sadness. You never see pictures of your friends on Facebook while they are having a crisis, are crying, are lonely or desperate. Nope, photos got to be happy, beautiful and taken from the perfect angle, immortalizing through a snapshot that very millisecond in which you were looking happy. But when (not “if”) you are not happy at one point in life, why don’t you want to say it? If you decide to read my diary, you will first see my sad profile, my struggle, my fight to regain motivation, and hopefully at the end of this trip, with some good luck, perseverance and help, you will know my happy self.  

So, what’s my trigger? Why am I writing a diary at 45 years of age? Because I have just done something that I never thought I would do: I have asked for help. Doctors. Medicines. Chemicals. And this, my friend, is a stepping stone. I have always fought against the idea of taking medicines, going to shrinks (strizzacervelli in Italian, brain squeezers). If it’s the body, I go to the doctor, if it’s the mind, I must control it myself. But I have come to such a low point that, apparently, my sad mood has changed the chemistry in my brain, and a week ago I started taking my first antidepressant. That is my way of saying to the world “please help me, I can’t make it by myself anymore”. I still live it as a defeat.

Ok let’s try this. I have written enough for day one.

Let me find a website where I can put my notes. I hear WordPress is a good platform, although wix.com is the first site that comes up when I search “blog”. But I learnt recently that on WordPress you can also host a podcast (I’ll explain another day why I am interested), so I’ll go with that. If you could read this note before I choose WordPress, I could read your comments, maybe you have other websites to suggest. Since today is a good day and I feel motivated (not common these days, in my world) I will take advantage of my good mood to go to that site, sign up, create an email (I wanted to name it depressionfighter at gmail, but it was already taken! So I picked wewinthisfight at gmail) and off I go. By the way, “you” are included in the “we”.

Thank you for reading. I hope you tag along. It will help me feel that I am not alone in this fight.

Today is a good day. Big step made. I created my first blog. I wrote the first note.

Podcast idea: still on the shelf. That’s coming.