Fixing the Vase

I have something I need to talk about. It’s not easy to do, and it’s not going to be easy to hear or read, but this is something I have been thinking about for a long time. Before I go further, please know, I am OK. After reading this, you may have doubts, but I am actually fine.

I have mental disorders. That is a fact. I know there are some people that will read this and they will want to say things along the lines of “it’s all in your head” or “please, it’s not that bad.”  Some people will be dismissive, partly because they don’t believe in the existence of mental disorders, or because the thought of someone having any sort of mental illness is uncomfortable to them, and they are trying to distance themselves from the situation. Others will try to be helpful when they read this, but they won’t know how to help. They’ll still attempt, and that’s okay. Others will actually be able to help, and oftentimes, doing so will really be as simple as listening. Still others will just simply say “what’s wrong with you?”

Well, let’s talk about that.

A mental disorder, or mental illness, is where someone has a behavior or mental pattern that is disruptive to ordinary life. It might happen once, or it might be chronic, but either way whatever the behavior or pattern is, is causing suffering in their normal life or impeding the sufferer’s ability to function in some way. Sounds simple, I know, but this explanation covers so, so much–too much to go into, so I’m going to focus on what I have personal experience with.

I have been diagnosed with persistent depressive disorder, generalized anxiety disorder and posttraumatic stress disorder.

Persistent depressive disorder is basically depression that lasts for a long time. According to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition, Persistent Depressive Disorder is a depression that lasts longer than two years. There is a whole list of symptoms that get used to diagnose this, but in my case, I’m going to narrow it down to what symptoms I have shown.

• I overeat. Basically, my attitude towards food a lot of times comes down to reacting to my depression and my anxiety in such a way that I’m self-medicating with food.
• I don’t sleep enough. In my case, I often do not want to go to bed. I will stay up until I feel tired enough that I tell myself I no longer have a choice and have to go to sleep. This ties in with the other two disorders, but more on those later.
• I lack energy for a lot of things. This can be tied to the lack of sleep, but in a lot of cases, I am asking myself “what’s the point of this?” and choosing to not expend the energy.
• I have low self-esteem. There are a lot of times where I feel like I suck, and have totally screwed things up. I don’t speak up when people have hurt me, or insulted me, or disrespected me, partly because there is a part of me that thinks they were right to do so. A lot of times, I don’t ask for what I want, because I feel I don’t deserve it, or I don’t want to inconvenience someone else, or I feel embarrassed or ashamed for asking for it. And, just so you know, trying to lift my spirits and esteem can help, but trying to make me believe I’m worthwhile when I’m in this state is quite the uphill battle.
• I have trouble making decisions. This ties in with the low self-esteem, because I am constantly telling myself that other parties won’t like my decisions, or will counteract them anyway, so what’s the use? I’ll go along to get along.

Generalized anxiety disorder is excessive, uncontrollable and often irrational worry. For me, in most cases, it’s worrying about how other people will react to me, or to what I do. “If I do this, what if they don’t like it? What if they do this in reaction to it? If they do this, will I have to then do this, or will I have to do that instead? If I do that, will they laugh at me? Make fun of me? Get angry with me? What if I do this instead…?” Stuff like this plays in a constant loop in my mind, and it’s really easy to get caught in a spiral, eventually just kind of grinding to a halt. When my anxiety kicks in, I will get fidgety and my muscles will tighten up. If I don’t have something to fidget with, I’ll end up doing something with my hands, like rubbing them, cracking my knuckles, or clenching and unclenching my fingers. Other times, I’ll end up making a fist as tight as I can, and then release it. If the anxiety gets really bad, I get indigestion, I’ll get a headache, and in some cases I’ll have difficulty breathing, like I’ve got a weight sitting on my chest.

Posttraumatic stress disorder is a mental disorder that develops after a traumatic event. Symptoms may include disturbing thoughts, feelings, or dreams related to the events, mental or physical distress to trauma-related cues, attempts to avoid trauma-related cues, alterations in how a person thinks and feels, and increased arousal, such as being hyper-vigilant of things going on around them.

In my case, the traumatic event was my car collision in February 2014. I was involved in a car wreck and hurt, badly. Another driver pulled out onto the road in front of me, and I wasn’t able to stop in time. I was able to slow down, so thankfully I wasn’t hurt worse, but I ended up with permanent damage to my left ankle. It was broken in three places, as well as dislocated. It was bad enough that during the surgery to repair it, the doctors had to put a wire mesh around the joint to hold all the pieces in place before they could insert the metal plate and 11 screws that are still in my ankle. You know it’s bad when an orthopedic surgeon describes your ankle as “smushed.”

Now, I have been in wrecks before and some of them were pretty scary. This was the worst I was hurt, though. I was also alone during that wreck. With all the others, there were people with me. That helped because I knew I could trust those people. In this case, though, I was the only one in the car. I had to trust all these strangers around me until I got to the emergency room, where my wife was waiting for me. I know the kid driving the vehicle I hit was scared and sorry about the whole situation, but I didn’t know him. I know the police and EMTs were there to help, and were doing their jobs, but I didn’t know them. I had no idea who any of those people were, and even when surrounded by all these people, even working to help me as they were, I have very rarely felt so alone. For me, I think that’s where the trauma came from.

Because of that, I have very vivid memories of that day. I can remember the sound the tires made as I tried to stop. I know what the collision sounded like. I can remember the smell of the airbag after it went off, and I can remember what it felt like for my face to hit it. I remember exactly how the wave of nausea felt when I was given painkillers in the hospital afterwards. It has been over two years, as of this writing, and those details haven’t faded.

For that reason, I am scared to drive. The thought of getting behind the wheel of a car terrifies me sometimes. What if it happens again? What if I get hurt worse? What if I die? What happens to my wife? What happens to my family. To my friends? That fear gnaws at me each and every time my keys are in my hand. But here’s the thing about all of this: I manage it. I am not cured, and I am not sure I’ll ever be completely cured. But I deal with it. I have gone through therapy and have learned how to work with my issues each day. With the depression, I recognize when my patterns go back towards a major depressive episode.

I try to set aside the stuff that I kick myself over and focus on what I’m good at. For example, I’m good at my job. Regardless of how often my depression tells me that I suck at it and I don’t know what I’m talking about, I can logically see that’s not the case. I wouldn’t have kept this job, let alone gotten promoted to the position I have, if I wasn’t good at it. Do I think there are people that deserved the promotion more than me? Yes. When this position opened up, I didn’t even apply for it, because I felt some of the people applying for it deserved it more and could do a much better job than I could. And then my boss asked me to apply for it. She wanted my name in the running, even though I felt I couldn’t do the work. I found out later they even created an extra position for me to give me this promotion. And now, here I am.

Beyond that, I’m trying to manage the overeating and the sleep issues. Those are tough ones, and I have backslid more times than I care to count. But I am making that effort. The same thing goes for the anxiety. A lot of that anxiety come from realizing just how little control I have over my own life, and from there, letting go of what I can’t control and focusing on what I can control. This is the very definition of “easier said than done,” but I’m still working towards it.

As for the PTSD, it has gotten better. I don’t dream about the accident anymore, and I can drive by the spot it happened. I couldn’t do either for a while and even had problems being in a car going past that location, even when I wasn’t driving. That isn’t to say there haven’t been changes. It has become easier for me to express my anger and frustration. I think part of that had to do with how I processed the fight-or-flight instinct before the accident. I don’t know if I used to get scared easier before and have become more cynical now, or if my default response was to show the fear, “flight over fight” as it were. However, since the wreck, I can’t run more than a few steps without a lot of pain. I think I know that deep down on that instinctual level, so now the reaction has become “fight over flight.”

So, where does that leave us at this point? Well, here’s my opinion and I honestly don’t care if you agree with me on it or not. I was broken but I’m putting the pieces back together. Things have happened to me and because of me, and I’m dealing with those consequences. It’s like a vase that was dropped, broken and then glued back together. Once you’re done putting it back together, even if you did a fantastic job, the cracks are still there, even if you can’t see them. That is how I see myself, scarred from the experiences, but knowing that over time, scars fade, injuries heal and I'm moving forward and muddling through as best as I can.

I’m still me. I’m still the same person as before. I’m a bit more dinged and banged up, I have some more mileage on me, and at some point, I have parts that will need replacing, literally in the case of my ankle, but it’s still me. I feel I am stronger for these experiences, and to quote the band Chicago, I’m feeling stronger every day. If you want to help me in this, the best you can do is to treat me the same way you’ve always treated me. Don’t walk on eggshells, don’t handle me with kid gloves and please do not look at me with pity. I don’t need it, and I don’t want it. Respect me, listen to me when I need you to listen and treat me like a human being. I will do the same for you.