Thats how I feel... like I'm at mile 88 of a 100 mile race... stuck in an aid station, unable to move, no motivation to continue. Depression sucks and it is something I am struggling to understand on a daily basis. All I know is that for the last week or two, I have done nothing but tremble. I shake constantly, from the time I wake up until the time I go to sleep... that is IF I sleep. I can't seem to really concentrate on anything, I think I spend a majority of my day spacing out, staring at nothing... thinking.. about what I have no idea. And when I am not spacing out, I am thinking, obsessing about my mistakes. I end up hating myself and want to do nothing but quit.. quit everything. BUt I guess thats the easy way out.
I always thought about how ultra's are synonymous with life. I think back to the Vermont 100 this past year, 88 miles into the race, I know I'll finish, I know I can break 24 hours if I try. But the medical staff sat me down in a chair, and I still to this day have no idea why. And all I did was sit there, and pout.. and wonder. So to in this life right now, all I can do is sit and wonder, I'm having my own little time out and I have no idea why. I feel trapped in my own body, I feel lost, I feel helpless and I feel like there is no way I'm going to finish this "race." Quitting is oh so easy... just like in a race, a nice warm bath and a bed isn't all that far away and its so easy to say it. But I like challenges, its why I choose to do what I do... to push the limits, to find the limits. I can overcome depression.. and I will. Relentless forward progression, one step at a time.. I'll get there.
I made it to the gym today. Its the first time since maybe April that I had been. I spent maybe 2 hours there. I started by hopping on the treadmill and warming up with a 3 mile run. I even put the treadmill's incline up to 15 and practiced my power walking. Then I broke right into my circuit training which still kicks my butt as good as it ever did. It felt good to sweat, it felt good to focus on something, to put the negative energy to good use. I felt like I was doing something again, like I'm fighting back. But the feelings are only temporary..
I woke up this morning sick to my stomach. I rebounded well. I went to the doctor, missed a few classes in the process, and got a few things straightened out. I went home for a bit and decided to start taking the steps to getting life back in order. I showered finally. I ate some food (hasn't been normal), I went to school and got a 100 on an EMT Practical. I went grocery shopping and then went to the gym. I made an appointment, finally, to see a psychiatrist next week. But regardless of how well today went, I am still sitting here with my head in my hands. Lost, sad, unsatisfied. I still want to crawl back into that hole I dug and hide. I feel like I'm there, my thoughts and my feelings, and others, just keep shoveling some of that dirt from above on top of me. I'm suffocating in my own self destruction, my own self pity. The medication (Lexapro) isn't working yet.. its still probably weeks away from working its magic. I hope I can make it because I'm going crazy.
I think the worst thing right now is knowing that I can't have what I want in this life. Time heals all wounds and this is one that I truly hope heals. And I fear that I truly will never be happy... I'm just stuck in an aid station.
Hi John,
ReplyDeletePlease know that you have lots of friends pulling for you and wishing you the best of luck. I know this is not an easy time for you and that you may not see a light at the end of the tunnel, but know that there is one.
Regardless of how you feel, as an outsider reading your blog, you are doing exceptionally well. And you are dealing with and addressing your depression which is very smart and admirable. You are wise beyond your years.
Tammy
John,
ReplyDeleteProbably no encouragement is going to get through at this time, so I am not offering one. I am a clinical psychologist (and runner, I briefly ran with you at Wapack in August) and I can tell you that depression is one condition that we know how to treat. I hear about making an appointment with a psychiatrist, but my advice is to see a psychologist, ideally one that specializes in Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT). Medication only blocks the symptoms, CBT teaches you about identifying, challenging and reframining your thinking, so that you can feel you can cope and you can get better. I can help you find a psychologist who specializes in CBT - email me at avranceanu@partners.org if interested. Take care of yourself, Ana
Then said Jesus to those Jews which believed on him, If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed; And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free. John 8:31-32
ReplyDeleteI can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me. Philippians 4:13
It is the spirit that quickeneth; the flesh profiteth nothing: the words that I speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life. But there are some of you that believe not......John 6:63-64
"FAITH," John my brother., the flesh will take you only so far. Now it's time to "Trust," in God alone, JESUS !!! He has been carrying you without you even knowing it! "SURRENDER."
And Jesus answering saith unto them, "Have faith in God." Mark 11:22
John, remember what I said to you at that aid station you were stuck at? I told you to get the fuck out of that chair!! Your doing the right things. Your working on getting out of the chair. Your NOT stuck. You have a huge support staff ready to lift you up out of the chair and get you back on your feet. Do the Sherpa shuffle and don't let the chafe get to you no matter how bad it feels. You know what I mean. It's time to get the fuck out of the chair.
ReplyDeleteThere are a lot of people rooting for you.
Nate
You may already be aware of this letter, if not, know that it has helped many a lost soul :
ReplyDeletePerhaps you know I am back in the Borinage. Father would rather I stay in the neighborhood of Etten; I refused, and in this I think I acted for the best. Involuntarily, I have become more or less a kind of impossible and suspect personage in the family, at least somebody whom they do not trust, so how could I in any way be of use to anybody? Therefore, above all, I think the best and most reasonable thing for me to do is to go away and keep at a convenient distance, so that I cease to exist for you at all.
As molting time -- when they change their feathers -- is for birds, so adversity or misfortune is the difficult time for us human beings. One can stay in it -- in that time of molting -- one can emerge renewed; but anyhow it must not be done in public and it is not at all amusing, therefore the only thing to do is to hide oneself. Well, so be it.
Now for more than 5 years – I do not know exactly how long – I have been more or less without employment, wandering here and there. You say, Since a certain time you have gone down, you have deteriorated, you have not done anything. Is this quite true?
It is true that occasionally I have earned my crust of bread, occasionally a friend has given it to me in charity. I have lived as I could, as luck would have it, haphazardly. It is true that I have lost the confidence of many; it is true that my financial affairs are in a sad state; it is true that the future is only too gloomy; it is true that I might have done better; it is true that I’ve lost time in terms of earning my bread; it is true that even my studies are in a rather sad and hopeless condition, and that my needs are greater – infinitely greater – than my possessions. But is this what you call “going down”, is this what you call “doing nothing”?
You will perhaps say, But why didn’t you continue as they wanted you to – they wanted you to go through the university?
My only answer is, the expenses were heavy, and besides, that future was not much better than the one on the road now before me.
But I must continue on the path I have taken now. If I don’t do anything, if I don’t study, if I don’t go on seeking any longer, I am lost. Then woe is me. That is how I look at it : to continue, to continue, that is what is necessary.
But you will ask, what is your definite aim?
That aim becomes more definite, will stand out slowly and surely, as the rough draft becomes a sketch, and the sketch becomes a picture – little by little, by working seriously on it, by pondering over the idea, vague at first, over the thought that was fleeting and passing, till it gets fixed.
So you must not think that I disavow things – I am rather faithful in my unfaithfulness, and, though changed, I am the same; my only anxiety is, How can I be of use in the world? Can’t I serve some purpose and be of any good? How can I learn more and study certain subjects profoundly? You see, that is what preoccupies me constantly; and then I feel imprisoned by poverty, excluded from participating in certain work, and certain necessities are beyond my reach. That is one reason for being somewhat melancholy. And then one feels an emptiness where there might be friendship and strong and serious affections, and one feels a terrible discouragement gnawing at one’s very moral energy, and fate seems to put a barrier to the instincts of affection, and a choking flood of disgust envelops one. And one exclaims, “How long, my God!”
For the moment it seems that things are going very badly with me, and it has already been so for a considerable time and may continue awhile in the future; but after everything has seemed to go wrong, perhaps a time will come when things will go right. I don’t count on it, perhaps it will never happen; but if there is a change for the better, I should consider it so much gain, I should be contented, I should say, At last! You see, There was something after all!
I should be very glad if you could see in me something more than an idle fellow. Because there are two kinds of idleness, which are a great contrast to each other. There is the man who is idle from laziness and from lack of character, from the baseness of his nature. If you like, you may take me for such a one.
On the other hand, there is the idle man who is idle in spite of himself, who is inwardly consumed with a great longing for action but does nothing, because it is impossible for him to do anything, because he seems imprisoned in some cage, because he does not possess what he needs to become productive, because circumstances bring him inevitably to that point. Such a man does not always know what he could do, but he instinctively feels, I am good for something, my life has a purpose after all, I know that I could be quite a different man! How can I be useful, of what service can I be? There is something inside of me, what can it be? This is quite a different kind of idle man; if you like, you may take me for such a one!
A caged bird in spring knows quite well that he might serve some end.
He is well aware that there is something to be done, but he is unable to do it. What is it? He cannot quite remember, but then he gets a vague inkling and he says to himself, “The others are building their nests and hatching their young and bringing them up,” and then he bangs his head against the bars of the cage. But the cage does not give way and the bird is maddened by pain. “What a idler,” says another bird passing by - what an idler. Yes, the prisoner lives and does not die. There are no outward signs of what is going on inside him; he is doing well, he is more or less cheerful in the sunshine.
But then the season of migration arrives, and attacks of melancholia - But he has everything he wants, say the children who tend him in his cage - but he looks out, at the heavy gray sky, and in his heart of hearts he rebels against his fate. I am caged, I am caged and you say I need nothing, you idiots! I have everything I need, indeed! Oh! I Beseech you liberty, that I may be a bird like other birds!
A kind of idler of a person resembles that kind of idler of a bird. And people are often unable to do anything, imprisoned as they are in I don't know what kind of terrible, terrible, oh such terrible cage.
I do know that there is a release, the belated release. A justly or unjustly ruined reputation, poverty, disastrous circumstances, misfortune, they all turn you into a prisoner. You cannot always tell what keeps you confined, what shuts you in, what seems to bury you, and yet you can feel those elusive bars, railings, walls. Is all this illusion, imagination? I don't think so. And then one asks: My God! will it be for long, will it be for ever, will it be for eternity?
Do you know what makes the prison disappear? Every deep, genuine affection. Being friends, being brothers, loving, that is what opens the prison, with supreme power, by some magic force. Without these one stays dead. But whenever affection is revived, there life revives. Moreover, the prison is sometimes called prejudice, misunderstanding, fatal ignorance of one thing or another, suspicion, false modesty.
But to change the subject - if I have come down in the world, you have in a different way come up in it. And if I have forfeited sympathy, you have gained it. I am glad of that, I say that it in all sincerity, and it will always give me pleasure. If you lacked seriousness or consideration, I would be fearful that it might not last, but since I think that you are very serious and very considerate, I tend to believe it will!
But if you could see me as something other than a idler of the bad sort, I should be very happy.
For the rest, if I can ever do anything for you, be of some use to you, know that I am at your disposal. Now that I have accepted what you have given me, you are, should I be able to render you some service, in a position to ask me. It would make me happy, and I should take it a sign of trust. We have moved rather far apart and may in certain respects have perhaps different views, but some time, some day, one of us may be of service to the other.
For now I shake your hand, thanking you once again for having been so good to me. If, one of these days, you feel like writing, my address is, chez Ch. Decrucq, Rue du Pavillon 8, Cuesmes, near Mons, and know that it will do me good to hear from you.
Yours, Vincent