Better Living Through Chemistry

6/17/2008 – 6:32 pm

Per my psychiatrist, I’m now in partial remission of my chronic major depression, which I’ve been treated for over the last ten weeks. [Yeah, I'm one of those people who looks at the DSM-IV codes written on my chart after every session, memorizes it, and then goes home to look up the code's meaning when I get home.] Below is a list of the people I have become since going on anti-depressants, talking through the underlying issues in my life, and thinking about what I own and what I don’t own in my history:

  • The person who awakens every morning before dawn long before an alarm clock beckons me to arise. Anyone who’s ever lived with me is probably stunned by that revelation. I am the person who, in February during the worst of my most recent episode, moved the alarm clock into the bathroom so that I’d already be halfway to the shower by the time I woke up. Now I’m routinely awake and refreshed before 0600, and often before 0500. The last time I was doing that, Boris Yeltsin was coming to power in Russia. [I say that because I distinctly remember watching footage on The Today Show of tanks rolling in Moscow one morning in our living room in Forest, Miss.]
  • The person who folds laundry and makes his bed. [The hell?! I've never made my bed in my life except under duress.] I was doing this just a few minutes ago, and I was quite struck by it.
  • The person who is far more cognizant of his eating habits. Look, I didn’t get to be as fat as I am overnight. I look at photos of me in college and am a bit shocked to look at the weight gain from then until now. It has been a long, long time since I’ve been anything close to what you’d call skinny, but these days, it’s honestly a realizable goal, one I’m starting to wrap my head around. From a quality of life perspective, this is #1A behind the #1 of “not being so depressed that I just flat-out can’t function in life above a subsistence level” that was, of course, the main push behind going into treatment in the first place. The big thing is this: I can see myself making the responsible choices that will get my weight under control. I can visualize myself being a skinnier dude and finding the will to make it happen. Quite honestly, I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I felt this way, but I do know that it’s been a while.

I’m really excited to see what this new me has in store. I look at what I have achieved over the last few years at work in a time where I’ve been so weighed down with my own negative self-perceptions and lack of drive to attack problems as they come that I’m honestly a little bit scared of what I might achieve unshackled from my former demons. I worked 67 hours last week, and until the end of it, I attacked problems with gusto, to the point that I was afraid that I was experiencing hypomania. [Yes, I mentioned this to my psychiatrist, and she determined that I wasn't hypomanic---despite the fact that I was exhibiting noticeable psychomotor agitation when I was in her office. Instead, she chalked all that up to stress and anxiety.] Sure, I was wound down by Friday and Saturday, but I had a reason to be wound down. [One of those reasons undoubtedly was being at the office until 2230 on a Friday night, then turning around to be there at 0700 the next day. But hey, the shit shipped.]

This is not to say that I am Right or Perfect or even Very Good. I can still be a raging asshole at times. I still make dumb decisions. I’m still not owning up to all of my failings. But I am so far out of the hole that I can see a whole lot of sky above me, and that gives me reason to keep on climbing. That’s as good an argument as any I know for seeking treatment.

By Geof F. Morris | Posted in Depression | Comments (5)

Opening a Closed Book

6/7/2008 – 10:34 pm

Two posts back to back? Well, in the spirit of personal transparency …

I’ve obviously had a category called depression for some time. Typically I’ve written about depression as it was happening as a form of therapy—acknowledging the problem is how I’d pull myself out of the funk I was in. [Or so I thought; there are times now when I wonder when I've not been at some level of depression for the last few years. Anyway.]

Sometime after the first of the year, but truly and acutely the last week of February, I entered another episode of major depression. By mid-March, I was destroying all the relationships that were important to me at the time, and it was radically affecting my work as well. I never will forget a co-worker stopping and looking at me, saying, “Geof, come on … cheer up. It’s not that bad.” I remember looking at him blankly, the realization slowly dawning for me.

The crisis point was one day at work when the stress level got too high and I … well, I broke down. I shut my office and was alternately crying and catatonic for the better part of two hours. After pulling myself together, I did the hardest thing I’ve had to do professionally—walk into my boss’s office, explain the situation, and tell him that I needed time off. I worked the next day [it was our monthly program review with the customer, and my absence would've been conspicuous], but I took the rest of that week off and sought help.

On April 1st, I did the most wise thing I could have: walked into a psychiatrist’s office and started treatment. This coming Thursday will be my fourth visit, but I’ve got to tell you that I saw effects quite quickly. I’m aware that many folks suffering from chronic major depression struggle for months and sometimes years to find an anti-depressant that works for them; I had noticeable results almost immediately. In fact, I almost wondered if there was a placebo effect for what was going on with me, but as we’ve adjusted dosages, I’m aware that there is, at least for me, better living through chemistry.

And honestly, if I hadn’t sought help, well … the biggest stressor in life—my job—would’ve eaten me alive. It is not that I hate my job—I absolutely love what I do. I don’t love every day of it, but viewed from a perspective, I do really value the work that I’m doing and have a passion for doing it. Seeking professional help for a mental health condition was the best professional choice I’ve made in the last year—and in this last year, I’ve been heavily involved in bringing the company eight figures’ worth of business. My job does not get easier as Shuttle end-of-life approaches; rather, it gets harder. Had I not sought treatment when I did … well, I really don’t want to speculate what I might’ve done. I did not ideate in this round of depression, but I have in the past, and this low was far lower than the rest.

People view my life from the outside and think that I’m a successful guy. And honestly, I’m inclined to agree with them. Sure, I’m way fatter than I need to be, and I’m still single at 29, but I largely feel most days like I’ve got Life by the balls. But you can be that guy and also be the guy that Depression has by the balls and the scruff of the neck, ready to toss you in the nearest incinerator. It makes little sense if you’ve never been there, but if you have been, you’re nodding your head.

And if you’re nodding your head, friend, and you’re not seeking help, go. Now. I mean it. You owe it to yourself and the people that you love. Taking care of your mental health is no less important than taking care of your physical health—and I might argue that it’s almost more important, because mental health problems harm the very thing that is most important in life: relationships. Take it from me—get right.

By Geof F. Morris | Posted in Depression | Comments (3)

Closing an Open Book

6/7/2008 – 10:18 pm

The hardest lesson that I’m learning in my life right now is to keep others’ concern for privacy above my own desire for transparency. In many ways, this shouldn’t be difficult for me—I already have to compartmentalize a lot of things for work. [Example: I'll tell you who I work for and what I do, and I'll even point to media coverage of our work, but past that, I have to be very tight-lipped as a professional courtesy.] But when it comes to personal things, I’m typically quite open, as you might expect if you’ve been reading things I’ve written on the Internet for any length of time.

Why this is hard for me to do is irrelevant. It’s important for me to do it to keep from continuing to hurt people that I love and care about deeply. I’ve betrayed some confidences lately in ways I didn’t consider [at the time] to be all that closely held. I’m now quite clear that I was wrong about that. Knowing that I’ve caused pain in this situation … well, any words I’d have for it aren’t quite adequate to the task.

I guess it’s important to say that, as much as I can, I’ll be open about me. But I’ll have to be closed about other things, and I’ve got to learn to do that well. It’s vitally important.

By Geof F. Morris | Posted in Introspection | Comments (0)

My Best Moments

1/17/2008 – 10:21 am

The best moments in my life are when I operate without a net.

True admissions here:

  1. I only applied to one university, my alma mater. I had my Mississippi State application virtually finished, but I never sent in the paper signature that would have seen me fully enrolled. [MSU ignored this and still offered me a scholarship package that would have essentially paid me a few grand a year to go to school.] I visited here once, knew it was the right place, and that was it. [I've told that story here before, and hopefully I'll link it when I'm finished re-shuffling the deck chairs.
  2. I never went on a job interview coming out of college. The only engineering job interview I've ever had was as a co-op in the summer of 1999. I got a couple cold calls my last semester in college, but I knew I wanted to work for Teledyne and I knew my boss wanted me.
  3. I talk a lot about how I did these searches for my churches, but honestly ... I've only attended services in two United Methodist Churches in the greater Huntsville area, and I have been a member of them both.

I've wondered why I do this. I don't generally engage in risky behaviors. I waited until I was 28 to buy the sports car, and it's not like I fly around driving it at high speeds all the time. Okay, sure, I charge up Bankhead Parkway at 55 if there's no traffic, but that's it. It's not like these are impulsive decisions that I make. [Okay, some of the time they are. Hush, Mom.] But I just … seem to have this intuition for what is right for me, and when I go, I go all out. The upshot of this is that I often have large periods of life of what seems like inaction, because I’m waiting for The Next Thing I Must Rush Headlong After. I mean, I enjoy my life when I’m not in dogged pursuit, but man … when I’m all in, there is nothing like it.

Nothing like it at all.

Of course, it’s pretty great that I have a very good track record of these things. It takes a while to marshal up the forces, because it’s so draining, but I can bring them to bear.

And so I have.

By Geof F. Morris | Posted in Introspection | Comments (0)

Starting Over, Again

12/31/2007 – 9:03 pm

I’m a fan of starting over … beginning anew … trying again. I think that it’s one of those important things that we do in life.

As a result, I’m starting over here. I’ve never been a great adherent to the what-goes-where school of thought with managing all these Weblogs, partially because I’ve never had great focus for any one of them. I’ve been thinking about what I do [and don't do] here in this space, and I think I’ve finally found a focus: looking forward, looking back.

This certainly means that some of the entries will stay. Some of them, though, need to go, to be moved other places. I’ll accomplish that in the next week or so, powered by some SQL-fu and some awesomeness thanks to John Godley’s Redirection plugin for WordPress.

Thanks for the patience and for being a part of it.

Geof

By Geof F. Morris | Posted in Silly Site Stuff | Comments (1)