Friday, October 03, 2014

The Physiology that is Me



As of late, several articles (some with actual scholarly studies referenced) have popped up regarding the relationship between depression and exercise--specifically that exercise:
You wouldn't know it from the above picture, but I was pretty depressed at the time it was taken in March of this year. In fact, I just found the photo on my Facebook page this morning!  It was taken in Red Rock Canyon in Nevada. I was supposed to do a marathon there, but my right foot had been uncooperative (it's much better now), and so I decided to "do" the 5k with my friend, Susan. Still, I was able to run up ahead and back to her (I asked her if this was OK before doing it), and then I was able to run the last few miles of the marathon with another friend, Jen.

I felt so bad at that time that I seriously considered cancelling the trip altogether. Why? Because I didn't want to have to "fake" emotions like happy, interested, etc. For depression turns you into a person who is unable to give a fuck even if you wanted to (read this and this). It's this lack of emotion that makes you withdraw from people because they will expect you to interact and you just know they will want to know what's wrong and how they can fix it. And the stress of that can be unbearable.

But I knew that I needed to get out of town and make the trip, and knew that being around Susan would be a good thing no matter what. While I was there, I had this constant sense of making an extreme effort to be normal--interested in other people, inquisitive, usual stuff. I also had this sense of fear of fucking up and saying something hurtful, because one of the things that goes through my head when I get depressed is that I don't want to inflict it on those around me, yet worry about freaking others out. Everyone has their own issues--some far worse than whatever I am experiencing. I am not a good actor, and many times while I was there, inside my head I was really struggling to hold it together.

When I got back from that trip, which I actually enjoyed, because the intellectual/spiritual/artistic side of me couldn't help but suck in the incredible beauty, I made a commitment to go to counseling. The first step was calling my medical plan hotline to get authorization, and breaking down bawling my eyes out telling some nurse that I'm depressed. And being asked, "How do you know you are depressed?" Fuck lady, because I KNOW. Because I'M TALKING TO YOU RIGHT NOW.  Next, you get the question, "Are you thinking about hurting yourself?" Honestly? I had thought about it once or 10 times. But it was just thinking about it. Like standing on top of Hoover Dam and thinking I could just hand someone my bag and get up on the ledge and jump. Or standing on the relatively new roadway/pedestrian bridge on the other side of the dam (where I later read is a too popular place for suicide) and thinking what it would be like to just jump off.

I didn't mention any of those thoughts to the nurse on the phone, because someone might have come and locked me up for that. There is a difference between ideating suicide and actually planning it. I did mention it to the therapist, though, and she didn't lock me up!

I ended up going for 6 sessions. I tried a low dose of Wellbutrin and decided I wanted none of that. In all, I was depressed for 3 months. That's not a super long time, but trust me it was enough. And I was only in it for maybe 3 weeks (from the time I acknowledged I WAS) when I went to Nevada, so actually I feel good that I pulled the trigger on counseling rather quickly.

One of the things that contributed to the depression was that I made a seemingly logical decision to step away from long course triathlon. However, as much sense as that made to me at the time (more time for friends, romance, life in general), I had no clue how to make the transition. Coupled with a bum foot, and feeling that I needed to change my life completely, BAM! Depression. Really just one ill thought out decision followed by another.

So I found myself working out much less, and falling deeper and deeper into a black hole. I tried explaining to the therapist how the endurance stuff had been my life and how I felt like I was experiencing withdrawal but kept saying that stopping it was all for the best even while inside my head part of my brain was just not buying it. It is tough to explain the whole thing to someone who's never done it. It was MY LIFE. And a pretty damn good one at that.

Once I began talking out loud about all what I thought I needed to change with the therapist, I got brave enough to tell a few close friends. Some just listened to me babble and I'm sure thought, "Yeah right like you will not do that anymore." But at the same time I thought I was buying into the concept, time passed, the weather improved and I began enjoying running and biking outdoors again. I had stopped swimming for a few months, but I had to start because someone insisted that I commit to a race I'd signed up for. Now, I LOATHE going into any race unprepared, but for this one I had to be happy with whatever I could get done by race day, and it would have to be enough.

So now with a small goal of DON'T SUCK TOO BADLY IN THIS RACE, having navigated a major role change at work, and relaxing about not needing to change EVERYTHING about my life ALL AT ONCE, I began feeling better, and became annoyed at therapy. I realized I'd overloaded myself with potential changes and that I had better things to do besides being depressed and going to therapy!

That was in June that I quit therapy. I felt better, but not great, until I got some clarity and saw a doctor about my foot so I knew what I was really dealing with and had some revelations of my own on how to manage it (it's more of an art than science). As I began to be able to tolerate more running, I felt better. And I love biking. I had still put a cap on how much training I would do as I was only going to do some sprint races.

But weird things happened. My break from swimming got me out of over thinking it, and recently a bunch of things have clicked as far as stroke mechanics. I showed up at a few races and did pretty well considering I was just winging it as far as training goes. I acquired competence at my new job role. I received the gift of coaching a friend for his own race.

But all that is not the point of this post. The point is that for ME, there is a certain level of training where my physiology changes in a significant way, and it happens to be at a significant level of training (I'm not saying!). I've monitored my mood and body over the last few months and it's like the switch went back on. Some people try and tell me it's endorphins. Nope. I don't really experience runner's high. Mostly I get to not think when I am working out. Not thinking may correspond to the first referenced article in this post. Or at least my sense of "not thinking" may be equivalent to my body clearing out that kynurenine. I have this strong sense of my brain chemistry being significantly altered when I get to a certain metabolic state, and everything about me functions better--focus, mood regulation, organization skills, stress management. It seems counter intuitive, but the more I do the better I do.

So I decided to stop fighting it and am actively training and planning for some long stuff again. Maybe that means there will come another time when I feel there is a hole in my life, or maybe not. For now, I think it is just how I am wired, and that I need to just go with it. I would volunteer to have some sort of comprehensive blood workup to see what's going on, so if anyone knows of someone who wants to study me, let me know!

Every time I have been mildly or majorly depressed, I am still able to have some clarity about what I learned from it. This time:
  • I have a new appreciation for the total amount of stress I can handle, and that (like most mortals) when I am going over, something has to give. Probably training, but that should be the last resort, because that is what keeps me from going over the edge.
  • I need to be gentler with myself. I used to be fanatical about gardening--now it's gone wild and I don't care. I never make my bed. I hate doing dishes and don't do them often enough. But there's room in other areas to give less of a fuck, too.
  • I am a pretty competent person even when I feel out of control. I need to remember that.
  • It's ok sometimes to fake it just to get through something.
  • While the choices I have made about my life may not be someone else's cup of tea (I've been admonished on more than one occasion regarding some of the extremes I apparently exhibit), they are MY CHOICES so FUCK OFF.
The thing about me is that I believe many people see me as primarily this athletic machine. But really it's all about keeping my MIND happy, hence the title of this blog.

Wishing everyone great mental health AND physical well being!