Passing For Normal

Perhaps that's not the best choice of subject line, since I think that song is about drinking? Ah, well.

A couple of you lovely people who know me really well have noticed that I went missing for a while and checked in to see how I'm doing, with the reflection that with me, silence is nearly always bad. Which... yes. As usual.

Toward the latter part of last month I was about to post a light therapy update. Though it was still early days, I had noticed that since I'd started using the SAD light, I was laughing out loud more often, and generally finding things funnier. Those are both good indicators that it was (and is) working.

But then I got knocked down.

I'd been happily anticipating a trip down to the Bay Area to see bluebrocade and go to an Alan Doyle concert with her -- both of these things a huge treat -- and also stay for a few days with my RL close friend D and her Rotties (who are among my goddogs; I love them and they love me).

At the last minute I had to cancel because I came down with an episode of my recurring Mystery Not!Flu. It's a very specific pattern: The first symptom is a dramatic unhappy mood swing that is unrelated to actual events; the second, I start feeling very sick (but with no other symptoms); and finally I get severe body aches -- ugly enough that I resort to opioids just to get through the day because otherwise the pain is all I can think about. And I hate opioids; they make me sleepy, stupid, nauseated, constipated, and itchy. So it has to be bad to make me take them. Each of these episodes lasts about a week, then I'm back to whatever "normal" is for me.

Missing the trip was a crushing disappointment, and it threw me into a nasty depressive downturn, and I've been struggling to swim back up through it ever since. It's a hard slog. There's no reset button.

It doesn't help that I stupidly (STUPIDLY) spent hours googling all the possible medical conditions that might fit this pattern of symptoms. I know this is idiotic. But I've been trying to get referred to a rheumatologist since last summer (the nearest of whom is at least half a day's drive away) and I only just now, finally, got scheduled for early May. Waiting and worrying in the absence of real information is incredibly hard. Point being, I made myself anxious about all kinds of scary things that it almost certainly isn't. Like I said: STUPID. /o\

It also doesn't help that my local bestie seems to find me frustrating, disappointing, and annoying a lot of the time lately. I don't know if that's a reflection on my own issues becoming substantially worse -- which is certainly possible; it's often hard to be objectively self-aware from the inside of a depressive brain -- or if it's a side effect of the oral steroids she takes twice a day (and has for many months) for her own medical mystery condition.

She has multiple esophageal strictures and has to get her throat stretched several times a year. (For most people, it's only one stricture, and one stretch is enough and then it's fixed.) Without this treatment, she has extremely painful choking incidents and can't swallow; it's really ugly. There's no definitive diagnosis, but lichen planus of the esophagus is a bunch of specialists' best guess; if that's it, she'd be one of only a handful of recorded cases, per Mayo's statistics. Taking the steroids has increased the interval between these stretches from six or eight weeks to four to six months. It's been a huge quality of life improvement, and it means she's not in a hospital under anesthesia nearly as often. All very good.

So yay for her getting effective treatment, but I'm really concerned because it looks to me like she has, over time, been getting progressively less compassionate and more impatient, intolerant, irritable, and critical. It's not "roid rage" so much as "roid cranky," but even so, personality changes (if that is, indeed, what's happening) are a serious issue with steroid use. And she's not aware it's happening.

I don't know if I'm observing accurately, or if I really am getting more annoying (depression is very, very hard on everyone close to the depressed person, so it's entirely possible), or a combination of both.

For years this friendship has been my rock, my safe place. And at the moment it's not feeling all that safe.

And just to cap the whole train wreck, last week I found out that when I reach age 68 (I'm coming up on 57 now) I will stop getting SSDI and get Social Security instead, which means my income will take a substantial hit. And I'm only just getting by now.

It's all been a great big ball of fear and woe.

But I get up again. One of the things I appreciate most about myself is that even though my brain chemistry is wired for depression, my fundamental nature is cheerful, upbeat, and optimistic. And it does keep reasserting itself, helping pull me back up onto my feet when life knocks me off them.

Good things have been happening even through the shitstorm. I have done my morning light therapy every single day since I got the lamp, regardless of what else was going on, and I can still see and feel it working. The laughter is coming back. I didn't lose that foundation, even during my not!flu episode, and I'm successfully making light therapy an automatic, consistent, and non-negotiable part of my daily routine. And through all of it and in spite of everything, I've been eating (for me) reasonably well and as healthy as I ever get, including lots of salads and fresh veggies and fruit. My blood sugar has stayed where it's supposed to be (though it took work, since it always wants to go up when I have an episode or any other illness), and I'm keeping up with the vitamin D & iron supplement regimen that's been so successful.

And as a side benefit, during the not!flu episode when I was too sick to read or watch any new-too-me media, I started a comfort re-listen of the Vorkosigan audiobooks. I skipped Shards/Barrayar this time since I can practically recite those two heart-favorites by now (♥Aral&Cordelia♥) and started with young Miles and his adventures; I'm now up to Mirror Dance (apparently stopping is... sort of not possible once I've started?). I'm actually enjoying all of it a lot more the second time around. I'm able to fit everyone and everything into place as it happens, and it's a much richer experience. It's a happy thing. (Though I may need serious hugs again when... that thing happens. Again.)

Fannish joys: Though I was derailed from podficcing for a while by the health crap, I'm now back into it and regaining my momentum. It's deeply rewarding to be able to participate in fandom and contribute something creatively. That's actually pretty huge. And on the anticipatory side of things, ride_4ever is planning a visit here in September. OMG fangirl face time! *happy dance* \o/

And in non-fannish joys: Yesterday I spent the morning watching a Cattle Sorting competition at the local fairgrounds. One of the coolest things about living in a rural area like this is being surrounded by real life cowboys and cowgirls. I was delighted to see that about 80 percent of the competitors were female, ranging in age from barely into their teens through gray-haired. There were mothers and daughters competing together, with lots of coaching as they worked the cattle. In fact, there was wonderful mentoring all the way around -- everyone was competing with everyone else for cash prizes, but that didn't matter when someone was in the arena working the cows, when it was all support and helpful advice. Rodeo is the same way; it's one of the things I love most about the whole culture. No one was shamed for a zero score; a "clean run" (not roughing the cattle) was far more important. There were even two competitors riding mules! I had never seen a mule working cattle before, and one of them in particular had tremendous cow sense and was a delight to watch, quiet and intelligent and working responsively in partnership with his rider. A really grand day, all the way around.

So... yeah. The downs have been pretty fierce. But life goes on, and I get up again. :-)