Small progress against advice
May. 25th, 2008 03:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stephbgFibro and depression have conflicting requirements. The only real treatment for inflamed nerves is enforced rest and heat treatment and whatever chemical pain relief options are available. Not wishing to court zombiehood--with deepest respect to all zombie readers--this leaves me with paracetamol. Right.
To the depression. Depression attacks my will to move, to act, to live a life. It makes me want to rest, do nothing, curl up somewhere warm and soft, and hide. The best response to depression of this type is to buck the trend and get up, do things, make an effort, push the envelope. Any little feeling of motivation is to be encouraged into maximum productivity.
Do you see where I'm going with this?
Right now I am experiencing one of the worst fibro flares I've had in months. The worst of the nerve pain was settling until yesterday when I dragged my are-you-actually-depressed-rather-than-flaring?-we-can't-have-that arse out to one of the busiest shopping centres in the region. Score one for sense of achievement.
For reasons I can only attribute to "a brain explosion" (it seems to work on the football field and in the courts, why not the suburbs?) I chose to carry my various bulky packages to my distant car*, rather than using a trolley. Actually I did have a reason, being that trying to negotiate that carpark with a trolley is tantamount to sticking a "Squash me!" sign on one's back.
About half way back to the vehicle my left neck/shoulder/arm/universe region said "HELLO!" to which I could only respond with a whimper and a facial expression that finally cleared the milling masses from my path. Something useful to remember for post Christmas sales perhaps. I made it to the car, by this time feeling dizzy and dehydrated to boot, and just wanted to go home. However, surely that was just the depression talking? It lies! It lies! I hadn't found everything I'd come for, and I would be a coward to retreat now. Mush!
So I went back, eventually found water, shamelessly took drugs in public, and tried to rest in the middle of some mall filled with milling teenagers. I pushed on, found one more thing then called it a bust.
Came home, fell asleep, went to noisy exhausting family gathering.
Today I really really wanted to make some progress with the kitchen. I'd had such a great time last week being uber-productive that it's been deeply depressing (in the non-clinical sense) to stop.
However, I had trouble getting going this morning and decided it was depression. Horrible amounts of pain will do that, right? Best solution is to get up and go, yes? So I did some fiddly bits in the kitchen and coated the raw stone feature tiles with bondcrete. Yay!
Ow!
Bugger. I have a serious logic problem. When I am having an episode of depression it's easy to recognise, but I also know that I can't trust my judgement. The depression will say Don't Move A Muscle no matter what, so can't be trusted. When I have a fibro flare it's also easy to recognise, and I should trust my judgement when it says Don't Move A Muscle.
If I vote on the safe side and do nothing, I'll end up doing nothing a lot of the time. And boy, *that's* depressing.
If I vote on the get-on-with-it side and do stuff, I will sometimes lift my depression and feel all sunny and activated and satisfied. Or, I'll strain something I should be resting and experience super-maxi quantities of pain and discomfort.
It feels like a terrible waste to be resting but not wanting to rest.
*sigh*
(*) How far away? Think different postcodes, climates, stellar patterns.
To the depression. Depression attacks my will to move, to act, to live a life. It makes me want to rest, do nothing, curl up somewhere warm and soft, and hide. The best response to depression of this type is to buck the trend and get up, do things, make an effort, push the envelope. Any little feeling of motivation is to be encouraged into maximum productivity.
Do you see where I'm going with this?
Right now I am experiencing one of the worst fibro flares I've had in months. The worst of the nerve pain was settling until yesterday when I dragged my are-you-actually-depressed-rather-than-flaring?-we-can't-have-that arse out to one of the busiest shopping centres in the region. Score one for sense of achievement.
For reasons I can only attribute to "a brain explosion" (it seems to work on the football field and in the courts, why not the suburbs?) I chose to carry my various bulky packages to my distant car*, rather than using a trolley. Actually I did have a reason, being that trying to negotiate that carpark with a trolley is tantamount to sticking a "Squash me!" sign on one's back.
About half way back to the vehicle my left neck/shoulder/arm/universe region said "HELLO!" to which I could only respond with a whimper and a facial expression that finally cleared the milling masses from my path. Something useful to remember for post Christmas sales perhaps. I made it to the car, by this time feeling dizzy and dehydrated to boot, and just wanted to go home. However, surely that was just the depression talking? It lies! It lies! I hadn't found everything I'd come for, and I would be a coward to retreat now. Mush!
So I went back, eventually found water, shamelessly took drugs in public, and tried to rest in the middle of some mall filled with milling teenagers. I pushed on, found one more thing then called it a bust.
Came home, fell asleep, went to noisy exhausting family gathering.
Today I really really wanted to make some progress with the kitchen. I'd had such a great time last week being uber-productive that it's been deeply depressing (in the non-clinical sense) to stop.
However, I had trouble getting going this morning and decided it was depression. Horrible amounts of pain will do that, right? Best solution is to get up and go, yes? So I did some fiddly bits in the kitchen and coated the raw stone feature tiles with bondcrete. Yay!
Ow!
Bugger. I have a serious logic problem. When I am having an episode of depression it's easy to recognise, but I also know that I can't trust my judgement. The depression will say Don't Move A Muscle no matter what, so can't be trusted. When I have a fibro flare it's also easy to recognise, and I should trust my judgement when it says Don't Move A Muscle.
If I vote on the safe side and do nothing, I'll end up doing nothing a lot of the time. And boy, *that's* depressing.
If I vote on the get-on-with-it side and do stuff, I will sometimes lift my depression and feel all sunny and activated and satisfied. Or, I'll strain something I should be resting and experience super-maxi quantities of pain and discomfort.
It feels like a terrible waste to be resting but not wanting to rest.
*sigh*
(*) How far away? Think different postcodes, climates, stellar patterns.
