Thursday, July 26, 2018

Look Ma, No Meds

It's been a while since I've written. I've been going through some stuff, both enjoyable and .... less so. I was traveling to Spain, which was amazing. I was in a car accident that possibly totaled my car (I'm ok), which is not amazing. But mostly, I've been titrating down on my medication. I've been doing so since January, with my therapist/heath care team overseeing it every step of the way.

I'm decreasing my meds for personal reasons that I'm not ready to share yet, but I will say that it has nothing to do with my mental health. By which I mean, I'm not decreasing them because my health has gotten so much better that I don't think I need them. On the contrary, I have a lifelong condition and I know that one of the only reasons I feel relatively better regularly is my medication. Nor am I doing so because of anything wrong with my meds, or because I've become one of those people that thinks medication is evil and makes me a "pawn of the system".  Far from it.  Medication has most likely saved my life, and despite the nausea, dizziness, disorientation, numbness in my tongue and lips, and my personal favorite, the never-awkward intense night sweats, the side effects of my meds are not all that bad - especially not compared to I feel when not taking them. But I have my reasons, and they're good ones (at least I think so), and hopefully one day I'll be able to share them. Just not yet.

Still, I wanted to share my experience of decreasing meds, as well as some tips and some real talk, in case you find yourself in a position where you need come down off meds, either for prolonged time, or in order to switch to something else.

First a few (possibly obvious but important none the less) tips:
  • Work with your therapist, psychiatrist, anyone and everyone involved. Do not attempt to decrease your meds on your own without professional help (caveat: I'm saying this for maintenance meds, not things you take as needed for specific symptoms one-off style).  
  • In working with these professionals, set up a timeline from the beginning (obviously if you have to switch off for emergent reasons, this isn't always possible, but do your best).  Plan out the trajectory of your decrease before you even start, so that you know you're giving yourself enough time. Build in leeway in case you need to slow the decrease, or pause at any point.  
  • Set your boundaries ahead of time. If you have experienced things in the past that are giant red flags of your health decreasing, note them. If there are things you just flat out aren't willing to go through in order to decrease meds, be honest with yourself and your therapist (and anyone else affected) from the beginning. They can serve as your markers for "this is going too fast, I need to slow down/I need a different approach/I'm not ready to do this right now".
  • Document how you feel. Everything, even if you're not sure if it's related. If every time you downgrade a dose you notice xyz, make note of it. It may be a coincidence, but you never know. Share these with your health professionals. Look for patterns. Remember, you know yourself best. If something doens't feel right (besides the obvious fact that you're decreasing meds and may generally feel worse), then voice it.
  • Try to keep everything else as routine as you can. This way, the only thing massively changing is your meds. Try to get up and go to bed at the same time. You may need to adjust your sleep patterns slightly  - i.e. going to bed earlier if it takes you longer to fall asleep, giving yourself more time to get going in the morning etc. But do the best you can to keep things routine.  Make a note of any adjustments you have to make, so you can find the balance that feels best (and I use that term relatively) for you.
  • Have a support team, and build an emergency plan. Have "life lines" in place - loved ones that you can contact if you have suicidal thoughts, or are feeling extra ill and need immediate support. If you can, involve your loved ones, especially spouses/partner, in your overall plan. If they know what to expect (at least theoretically), and understand what you might be experiencing as you decrease, they can both be there to support as needed, and look for signs of particular concern.
Now, some less-pretty but solidly real pieces of info:

  • There are going to be days where you feel like absolute shit. I mean, if you felt completely fine without meds, you probably wouldn't be on them, right? So naturally, as meds go down, the feeling like crap factor goes up.  This is totally "normal", for lack of a better word. So don't be discouraged. I'd venture to say virtually person going off meds for a reason other than "they no longer need these meds" is going to feel some ill effects. This is even true if you're going off meds because they aren't working well. You're changing up what's going into your system - it's going to affect it, especially at first.
  • There isn't much pattern to the better versus worse days. Right after each decrease, especially if it affects your sleep, you may notice a significant change. But then you'll have a day where you actually feel pretty OK (at least speaking from my experience). Or two, three, five. And then bam - another feeling like shit day. That's the nature of the beast, especially if you're mood cycling.... because... it's cyclical. And that is going to become more pronounced as the meds decrease.
  • You may well experience hours/days/weeks/months where you think, "how the hell did I even exist before I was on medication". I certainly did. I wondered how I made it through growing up, college, grad school, and general adult hood without the meds. Because we can still have really rough days on them (they're a treatment, not a cure), it can become easier to forget how even more terrible it felt without them. You're going to feel like there's no way you can do this. That if this is how you feel with a small decrease, how can you possibly continue to decrease, let alone go off of them all together. Again, totally normal. (Note: Listen to your intuition on this. If it really feels that you cannot, that it's dangerous to you to keep decreasing, talk to your health professionals. Especially if you experience suicidal thoughts). 
  •  There may be days that you fail to recognize yourself. On these days, you're going to need extra self-love and self care. These are a crucial part of the process. You may need more time to get things done, or more frequent times to rest and take time for yourself. Coming off meds is seriously difficult, and takes a tremendous amount of strength. But as with anything that takes strength, it can be exhausting. It's extra important to take care of ourselves during this time. This is where involving loved ones in the process, to have them help you out with things around the house, errands, tasks, etc can be huge. If you build this into your plan, you allow yourself extra time and energy for self-care.
  • If you're a mood cycler, or struggle with anxiety, you'll likely experience too much energy. "Too much energy?" you might say if you've been in a depressive cycle that makes it tough to get out of bed. And I get it, it seems impossible. But yes, too much energy. Our meds can, at times, make us feel sleepy or sluggish. As you decrease, you may notice you have more energy, don't hit that 2PM slump during the day, need less sleep at night. But this can quickly slip into mania or hypomania (if you cycle). Or all that extra "energy" may be the nervous energy of anxiety. You can go from feeling "wow I don't actually need a to crawl under my desk and nap" to not being able to concentrate, feeling anxious, jittery, on edge, and worse pretty, quickly. Keep just as much of an eye out for this as you do for increased depression. 
  • There may be days where you actually feel pretty damn good. Not (hypo)manic good, but just good. Like a person without mental/chronic illness would feel on a daily basis.  And it's super tempting to think, "wow maybe I don't need meds anymore!" And if continues, by all means, revisit the issue with your therapist/psychiatrist/health professional. But more than likely, you're just having a good day(s). That's all part of mood cycling and mental illness. Even off meds, I'm not cycling up or down every moment of every day. I'm not anxious every breathing moment. My advice is, don't overthink it. Simply enjoy feeling better for the day or days or hours or whatever it is. 
Today is my first day without any meds at all. I took my last (extremely lowered) dose yesterday around 2PM. So as of this writing, it's been 24 hours. I'm actually not doing terrible. I have more energy, focus can be tricky, but I'm hanging in. On the plus side, I don't now have to pack extra snacks for random times so that I can take meds (I mean, I still do, I love to eat, but I don't *have* to). I also don't wake up in the middle of the night looking like I went for a swim in my sleep. So that's sexier less gross. But most importantly, I'm still here. I have even laughed and smiled today. I've texted with friends. I'm looking forward to spending time with my hubs and my dog this evening. I'm hanging in. I know there will be tough days, as there always have been, but I'm making it through.

If you are contemplating decreasing your meds, or have to decrease your meds, or are going through this right now and need to vent, please, reach out. I may not have your exact experience with your exact medication, but I have gone through it, and come out the other side. I'm here for a vent, to be a shoulder to lean or cry on, or to give advice where I can. So please, if you need, reach out. I'm always here to listen.



Monday, June 11, 2018

I'm Not Asking You To Understand My Reality

I have no idea what it feels like to have asthma. Or diabetes. Because I do not have these. So I don't know what it feels like to barely be able to breathe after walking a couple of flights of stairs. Even though I'm borderline hypoglycemic, I can't pretend to truly know what it's like to have sugar affect my body the way it does for someone with severe diabetes. I can read about these, talk to people with them, intellectually know what it means to have them. I can understand how these illnesses should, theoretically, affect a person. But I cannot understand what their reality is. Because maybe one day, they're taking all of their asthma medication like normal and they are feeling OK, and then something sends them into an asthma attack. Something that usually doesn't, something that technically, "shouldn't." And if this happens, I have no right to tell them they "shouldn't be having an asthma attack right now." I have no right to judge the fact that they are. I certainly have no right to judge them, as a person, based on how their asthma affects them. And if, despite doctors and treatment and doing everything they can to not have it flare up, they still have asthma attacks at times, I have no right to accuse them of not trying hard enough. I have no right to tell them it's their choice to have asthma. Nor to think any less of them because they have it. To think they're any less a valuable, contributing member of society. 

So how come, then, this is OK with mental illness? How come, if something really bothers my anxiety, I'm supposed to just "try harder"? How come I'm any less capable, competent, valuable, because I have this illness? How come, just because you don't understand why I'm depressed or anxious, it's "wrong" for me to feel so?  How come you wouldn't expect someone to learn how not to be asthmatic, but you expect me to "learn how not to have depression".  How come you view mine as a choice?  Like I want to feel this ill.  How come if someone with a physical illness needs to rest and take care of themselves, we tell them to take it easy and offer to help them, but when it's mental, we tell them they're lazy for taking a break?

I'm not asking anyone to understand what it feels like to have my illness. If they don't, I know they can't.  I am asking you to believe me when I tell you what it feels like for me. That's it. If I say I'm unwell and need some time for myself, don't call me lazy for resting. If I need to stay at home instead of go to ... whatever.. because of my anxiety, don't tell me I'm using my illness as an excuse. If I promise you that doing the best I can, and it still falls short, don't tell me I'm not trying. Believe me. Do you honestly think I want to feel this way? To feel like a failure, like a drain, like a burden? Do you think I want to feel mentally tortured? That I don't want to enjoy life like others? Would I honestly put myself through this if I had the option not to?

Here's the best way I can explain it in non-illness terms. Have you ever had something akin to the following conversation?

You after your computer does something you've never seen before, calling tech support: My computer did xyz. 

Tech support: Do abc, then you'll get so and so screen. 

You follow instructions, do not get that screen, and say inform them. 

Tech support: Well, it should work. 

You: Well it didn't. 

Them: Try it again. 

You (after same result): Still not working. 

Them: Well it should be.

And round and round...

Ever been there? They keep telling you that it should be working. When it doesn't work that way for you, they simply keep telling you it should. And nothing is accomplished except for you getting really frustrated and them probably thinking you can't even manage to do a few simple steps correctly on your computer. You're probably both annoyed and frustrated, and your computer still isn't working.

That's how it feels. It feels like people around me are trying to be tech support for my brain, telling me how it should work. Except, there's an added curve ball - they've all learned different operating systems, at least different versions, none of which are the one my brain is running. But they insist I should do things the way it's done in their specific version. And if I do things according to the way one version works, it upsets those trained in every other version because they insist it's wrong.  And no matter how much you sit there and say "none of that works on my version because I'm not running ANY of those over here," it doesn't matter.

I understand that to you, the way I view the world, the way I feel things so deeply, the things that seem urgent or important or anxiety producing, may never make sense.  I'm not asking them to. I'm not asking you to understand my reality. I'm asking you to simply understand that it is my reality. And that I'm doing the best I can with what I have.


Thursday, May 24, 2018

I Know I Have a Purpose, But....

I know I have a purpose. I just don't know what it is. I'm massively struggling with this right now. There are so many things I'm passionate about: mental health and chronic illness, animals (particularly animal rescue), travel, mindfulness/yoga, writing. And I know I can use these to make a difference. I simply have no idea how.

If you know my history, you know that I own Chimera travel. And while I love planning travel, it  currently hasn't panned out as a full time career. I still do it frequently part time, it's just... bills, mortgage, etc. Plus, I'd like to find my niche within this but not having the disposable income to travel continually to further my expertise in one particular area makes this difficult.

I also blog (obviously), have formed Spread Hope Project, and am an active mental health and chronic illness advocate on social media. But while some people I know have managed to make inroads with speaking gigs, paid patient advocacy opportunities, and the like, I have not (please tell me your secret). Also, chronic low self-esteem and confidence that's in the toilet, continual impostor syndrome, and massive fear of rejection which seems to freeze me in my tracks when I think about actually moving forward with something have me basically relegating myself to posting selfies in "Hope" shirts and blogging sporadically on Spread Hope Project which probably has about ten followers. I have this general idea of what I want to do, but the details become fuzzy when I try to explain them to anyone, and it comes out sounding like "I just want to make a living out of helping people" - which isn't far off, but I realize that's too generalized. Every time I try to narrow it down, I think "that won't work". I've attempted to reach out for help, but mostly it's pleading with people on social media and saying things like "if anyone's interested in helping....". Which tends to get zero replies at worst, and general "let me know if you need help", but no actual guidance or "hey yea let's  partner up on this - let's set up time to brainstorm". And I completely get it. People have lives and jobs and I don't really know anyone who is going to say "Yes! I've been waiting years for someone who wants to follow their dreams of helping people for a living! Let's team up, take the plunge and go for it!"  At best I get "why don't you try xyz". But again the no-self-esteem freeze. I think, "great idea...." and that's as far as I get. Maybe brainstorming. I physically, mentally, emotionally cannot get past that point. Hell, I can barely manage to raise the $1000 for my overnight walk each year - how am I going to start and run my own organization? Past failures gnaw at me too much.

In addition, I wrote a novel. Or at least a draft of one. That only my dad has seen. Which granted is advantageous except that I didn't actually ask him to edit it. I gave it to him as a "hey you're the only person I'll probably ever share this with since we're both writers and you're my dad"gift. I'm told I'm a good  writer but I'm so afraid of rejection from publishers and editors that aren't my dad that I can't bring myself to even seriously consider trying to get it published.

So I've been feeling horrendously lost lately. I'm trying to narrow things down, to find something that feels completely "right" and that I think I could do, reasonably. I have a husband, a dog, and a house. I can't just give up everything and decide to hike across the country for mental health, and honestly even if I could (i.e. if I was single, no house, no dog, disposable income), my self-confidence, or lack thereof, and experience tells me that about five people would care and they'd all be related to me, or as good as.

And I'm honestly kind of over the "rah rah you can do it" (by kind of I mean drastically over it, as in  please don't do this unless you have an actual suggestion and are interested in helping because it won't go over well). I'm over the "just let it happen, it takes time". I've been "letting it happen" (or waiting for it to) for about 18 years. I'm exhausted from feeling lost, from being in life limbo. It makes days feel hollow, empty. You begin to not even feel like yourself. It begins to feel pointless, because honestly what's the point of living a life that feels inauthentic, where you're leaving nothing, where you feel  hollow and empty. To clarify- you do not have to worry about me. I'm just struggling with who I am in this void of purpose. To the point where I cry daily about how lost I feel, how I struggle to recognize myself. I cannot believe that someone as passionate as me has the purpose of floundering throughout life never really feeling connected to it. I have tried meditating, clearing my mind, spending time in nature. Hell I've tried praying "just in case", and I'm Buddhist (please no religious lectures, that'll end as well as telling me to "calm down" does - I respect your right to have your own religious beliefs so please respect mine).

I'm just so lost. Writing this helps, if only to get it out of my head. And that's really the only point of it, other than to express how I'm feeling so that if you, too, struggle this way, you know that you are not alone.


Tuesday, May 8, 2018

I Have An Illness

I am not "so dramatic", I have anxiety.

I am not always "looking at the glass half empty", I have depression.

I'm not running a mile a minute and talking nonstop because I think I'm so important, I have hypomania.

I'm don't just "cry about everything", my illness makes me feel lost.

I'm not "needy" and looking for validation, I'm asking for support during depression.

I'm not selfish or lazy, I'm hurting mentally, emotionally, physically.

I'm not weak, I'm sick.

I'm not "always complaining"; I'm sharing my deepest thoughts and struggles because I trust you.

I'm not "making mountains out of mole hills,"  my anxiety and hypomania won't let my brain rest until certain things are done. It feels like I'm being mentally eaten alive.

I don't need to be fixed or "taught the right way to think or act" or molded into pretending I'm the version of OK that society is comfortable with. I don't need to "just suck it up".  I don't need an attitude adjustment or to be more grateful. I don't need you to tell me that the way my brain works is wrong. I don't need to be made to feel bad or guilty or less for having a illness I never asked for and battle against every day of my life. It is not a choice. I have an illness.


Friday, May 4, 2018

Discouraged

I'm blogging from a not very good place today, but it needs to be done. I have had a lot of blogs in holding patterns that I need to put out (I know it's been a while), but I need to do this. For myself. No offense. I need to get it out before it eats me alive, as my emotions tend to do.

I'm so incredibly discouraged. About everything. I'm trying to raise money for my overnight walk for suicide prevention, and getting friends to donate even $1-5 (that's literally all I'm asking, there's no minimum) is like pulling teeth, but the minute someone mentions girl scout cookies, everyone tramples each other to get in line. This is nothing against girl scout cookies (I don't really like them but that's my own thing), or the girl scouts, but you're telling me people can't afford a box of thin mints AND a $1? Ever? No matter how much I'd be willing to do for them?

I'm trying to make a go of Spread Hope Project and feel like a complete failure. I watch the most mundane tweets, posts, Instagram pics get hundreds of likes and I try so hard with my efforts and get maybe a like if I'm lucky. And zero action beyond that. No comments, shares, etc. No growth. Nothing that I could actually turn into an organization like I want it to be. The fact that I have a  M.S. in Marketing and can't get this off the ground, the same way I feel like a failure at my travel business (more on that in a minute) makes me feel even more horrible *because this is one of the few things I actually think I'm somewhat good at.* For someone who has almost literally no self-esteem, being made to feel, or sometimes outright directly told, that one of the very few things, and I mean very few, that you feel like you are good at, could succeed at, you're not, is so discouraging that I can't describe it. It's beyond discouraging. It all but breaks you. Especially when you are already depressed.

Now, my travel business. I have close friends and family tell me all about the great trip they just went on... that they didn't once reach out to me about. I don't even mean "oh it was just a flight and you don't make money on that so I didn't bother you" but TRIPS EXACTLY LIKE THE KIND I BOOK AND WOULD HAVE GIVEN A BIG FRIENDS AND FAMILY DISCOUNT ON MY RATE FOR. I'm not even saying they asked my advice but couldn't afford my fee or got AMEX points, got a cheap flight deal they couldn't pass up. I'm saying I found out afterwards in a Facebook post or email that they even took a trip.

All the advice givers say "ask for help". So I do. Please help me brainstorm for Spread Hope. Please donate to my walk. Anyone want to partner on xyz? Please read my blog. People say, "follow your dreams," but if I tried to live on following my dreams I'd be homeless without my parents' support (thank goodness for my parents). When I try to follow my dreams I get told it's not realistic, that nobody has the time to help, that its' "not their thing" (neither is car repair mine, but if you wanted to open an auto body shop I'd still attempt to help you brainstorm even if my suggestions were ridiculous). I'm told it's not practical, not logical. I'm told to be confident but then when I stand up for myself and say what I want, I get all of the above.

There are exemptions to these, of course. I'm lucky to have a few people that are eternally supportive of me being me, whoever that is and whatever I choose to do. I'm not asking for cheer leading here (in fact, please don't). I'm not asking for critique - I get enough of that. I don't need to be told what I'm doing wrong because right now it feels like literally my entire existence is wrong. The world is made for extroverted task-master doers who follow logic, and I'm a introverted restless soul creative who believes in following dreams and not missing your life for tasks because you never know when you wont have the chance. The balance is probably somewhere in between but I've yet to find it.

So I get all that. I'm simply getting this out because it's tearing me up. And because maybe somewhere someone else feels this way too, and I want them to know they aren't alone. 

Thursday, March 22, 2018

Treatment Is Not One-Size-Fits-All

If you were to ask me what my treatment is for my mood disorder, I would tell you that I take medication and see a therapist. I would then tell you that, for me, activities like yoga, meditation, exercising, healthy eating, writing, reading all help supplement my treatment. As in, they aren't my primary source of treating my illness, but they are still important to maintaining my relative mental health.

If you asked me if, because I have found reasonable "success" with medication, do I think everyone should take it, I would tell you no.  Not because I don't think medication is helpful. I do. It's probably saved my life. And I'd certainly be happy to share my story to someone who is still on the brink, thinking medication might help but afraid because of potential side effects or the stigma (yes, there's actually stigma about taking meds for my illness, which I find...amazing). But I think my medication is helpful to me with my specific disorder and my brain.  That does not mean that it will work for you and condition and your brain. Or that another medication will. Or that any medication will. Or that, even if it does, you won't feel that the side effects are worth it.

Nor would I tell you that everyone with anxiety should do yoga or meditate - and this is coming from someone who just applied to yoga teacher training. If it works for you like it does for me, then sure! I highly recommend it. But as much as I love it, there are times when I just can't get into it (I realize the irony of this is that it probably means I don't meditate enough). Sometimes I sit on my meditation cushion thinking "when is this going to be over" - during a 5 minute session, no less.  Some people run 10 miles a day. I can't manage 10 miles a week right now because of chronic injuries (and also, I'm not dedicated enough to run in a nor'easter).

The point is, what works for me may not work for you. And what works for you may not work for me. Or, in the case of activities like yoga, meditation, running, etc it might work for me many days, but not all. Some days the best thing I can do is eat healthy. Other days, eating a big plate of nachos and not feeling bad about it is exactly what I need, because I'm being hard enough on myself as it is (my IBS might have something to say, but that's a different story).

I'm sick of people making others feel bad about treating their mental health with medication the way they would a physical illness. I'm equally sick of people pushing meds down people's throats (not physically, unless you're also doing that, and I feel there may be some legal ramifications there). I'm sick of people suggesting that positive thinking or prayer or herbal supplements will cure me when they wouldn't suggest that as the sole treatment to a cancer or heart heart disease patient. Also: there's no cure for my illness so the minute you say "cure" I stop listening.  Just like everything else in life, there's no one right way to treat illness. There's a way that works best for me, and you, and Joe schmo over there, and everyone else.

I remember at a former job, years ago, the company owners said they tried as hard as they could to select a uniform that looked good on everyone. The result, we all agreed, was that it looked good on nobody. Life is like that. Illness is like that. Treatment is like that. There's no one solution that works for everybody. We're all unique beings. Let's respect that. 

Monday, March 19, 2018

Sensory Triggers

I'm going to start this post by saying that I am not sure if this is experienced by the majority of people with mood disorders and/or anxiety, or by a few, or by just me. I also don't know if my being a quasi HSP and empath contributes to these, though I suspect so. I haven't written on this, ever I don't think, so it seemed time to do so.

As a socially anxious introvert, my natural tendency is already to keep myself surrounded by just a few individuals I'm close to, and to take stretches of time where I surround myself with nobody but perhaps my dog. It is no offense to anyone (trust me, you'll know if it is), it's simply that I need to restore myself.  At times when my sensory triggers are especially sensitive, this is even more crucial. It's difficult to explain what a sensory trigger feels like to me. The best I can do is explain what it might feel like to you.

Have you ever been on one of those rides that tries to make you feel like you're actually experiencing some event that you absolutely aren't? Perhaps they have you traveling to the moon on a space shuttle, and the room, or at least the seats in the room, are physically moving, jostling you back and forth. They have things "flying out of the screen" at you (or at least it appears), and you're sure they're going to careen into you any second. Bright lights are flashing, and you can feel the vibrations of the noise. It's like that. Except you're not in a theme park ride that's making you feel like you're headed to space. You're going through your daily routine. The "seats tilting wildly" are everyday movements. Sometimes, it's simply someone walking past you. The noises are people's voices, the TV, the blender or microwave running. The bright lights are the lights in your home or office or grocery store, the light coming off of the tv. The items careening off the screen at you is your coworker passing you in the hallway, or your spouse or family member walking around your home. They're other cars on your  drive to and from work.

That's what it feels like. Or, if you've spared yourself from these rides, think of it this way: you're going through your regular day, except that everyone around you has their TV or radio blaring to the point that you can feel the sound vibrations; everything you read is highlighted in bright neon, everything you look at is in 4-D. Everyone you come in contact with is standing so close you can literally feel them breathing on you. 

For me, the two senses that aren't assaulted are smell and taste, and my guess is that one is spared because of the other, though I'm not sure which way it works. However, I am significantly less hungry during these times. I eat because my low blood sugar and low sodium tell me I must, and because I have to take meds. At times I feel hungry, only to eat a little and feel  absolutely stuffed. So perhaps it's my gut taking the hit for my taste and smell.

And the thing is, it's nobody else's fault. People are not, in fact, blaring TVs or radios. They're not what's known, a la an episode of Seinfeld, as "close talkers". Nobody's doing anything outside of their normal routine. It just feels that way. I can physically feel sights, movements, sounds. In these times, it's even more essential than it normally is to focus on self-care. I need to maintain an existence that I can best describe as "soft", though that doesn't really make sense, I know.  I need to keep myself in only the closest of company, often my own, focusing on pursuits such as yoga, meditation, writing, reading and my new found refuge, intentions with my mala beads.  I need a lot of rest, and I need to make sure I nourish myself, despite not feeling hungry. Luckily, these times don't last super long, usually, though as my depressive spells lengthen, I worry that theses will too.

So if I seem scarce or quiet, it is not you. I am simply doing what I need to do, and what I all too often neglect, in order to keep forging ahead, even if slowly and more quietly than usual.