What’s In My DNA?

Standard

A little while ago, maybe a couple weeks, I honestly don’t remember, I applied to be part of a 23 and Me research study into the genetics of patients with depression and bipolar disorder. In exchange for me participating in several surveys over the coming months, they would send me a complimentary genetics testing kit and put my information in their database for future use.

I don’t know if this means that I’ll also get a complimentary overview of my ancestral makeup, but at least my DNA will be on file should I choose to purchase that package in the future.

This is particularly interesting to me because I don’t know a quarter of my genetic makeup. My biological maternal grandfather was apparently a one night stand during a time when such things were downright scandalous, as was having a child out of wedlock. My mother was adopted by her great aunt and uncle, and that is the couple that I recognize as my maternal grandparents.

As a result of this missing information, I’ve never attempted to try and chase down my ancestry. I’ve always been curious about it, but to be honest I’m not sure how a situation like this would be handled in genealogy circles. I know there has to be a protocol, but I don’t know what it is and honestly am not THAT curious to track down a definitive answer.

What I AM curious about is where my bloodline originated from. I’ve never had an answer to that question, and I’ve always felt a tiny pang of jealousy of those people that can accurately identify their national ancestry. That would be a question that this testing kit may be able to answer for me.

I do know that I will receive a more medically-oriented report on my DNA, so I’ll know if there’s something that I need to be on the lookout for in the future. That’s worth participating in the research program all on its own. But if I get an ancestral report to boot? That would be ideal.

Interestingly enough, the kit is coming from a town about an hour and fifteen minutes away from where I was born and raised. Not sure if I’d call that a sign, but it’s a neat little factoid that probably interests only me.

I’ll let you know what I find out when the test results come back, probably in two or three months.

Advertisements

I’m Concerned for the Future

Standard

I alluded to this in my post on the 18th, but I figured that it was important enough to warrant its own post to delve further into my concerns.

The good thing about my checklist/vitals notebook is that I can monitor trends over both the short term and longer term. For instance, I can note that for a period of about three weeks back in August and September of 2015 I only took my morning vitals, and completely forgot to take my afternoon and evening blood pressure readings during that time. I can also note that very slowly, my fasting blood sugar has crept up from 90-110 to 125-140, something that is going to warrant a little more attention in my diet. I can also note trends when I’ve been too depressed to record anything in my checklists, or periods when there has been little to no effort to maintain certain items in my checklist. (Up until just a few days ago, there were five items out of my nineteen that were consistently being ignored – I’ve recently refocused on that, and am now sporting a three-day streak of full marks on my checklists, and a fourth day was missed by one item.)

Since these checklists go back to October 2014, I can start to see annual trends occurring in my behaviors. And there’s one trend that concerns me, because I’m facing it head-on next month.

In 2015, I took a break from my checklists from February 9 to April 5. I remember being particularly depressed during that time, and the last thing I wanted to do was be accountable for my daily actions – I was content to just wallow in the pain and isolation of depression and basically let life roll over my back for a while.

In 2016, there was a remarkably similar break – from February 10 to April 23. Once again, I was in a persistent downswing and it showed in my lack of productivity.

Now, it is important to note that during both breaks from the checklists, I was still taking my medication religiously, and still more or less keeping up with my vitals. To be fair, it’s unfortunately not uncommon for me to miss one of my daily readings, and rarely I’ll miss two of three, but I’ve been pretty consistent with my vitals – over the last year, I’ve missed on average fewer than one reading per week, and I haven’t missed a complete day at all in that period of time.

I’m not sure what it is about this time of year that triggers the disengagement from my daily checklists. There’s no loss or tragedy during this time of year that would foreshadow a period of inactivity. I don’t just decide “it’s that time of year, the hell with everything for a couple months.” I genuinely don’t know why for the last two years, I’ve detached myself from my daily activity list on almost exactly the same day and re-engaged after a couple months (a little longer in the case of 2016). But I’m concerned for this year, since there’s a potential trigger.

I am not a fan or supporter of our new president, and based on things that he and his party have said they plan to accomplish over the next four years I am very concerned for the well-being and safety of both myself and a large number of my friends and family, and I can see that greatly affecting my mood over the next several weeks as events unfold. (NOTE: This is not a political post, and political comments on any social media platform will be deleted, regardless of the position of the comment. It is only relevant to this post because of it being a potential trigger for another downswing and nothing more.) So this year, with a potential societal trigger looming overhead, I am very concerned that I will once again lapse into inactivity.

I’m trying to refocus my efforts on completing my checklists now, so that in a few days when the window for a relapse opens it’ll be a well re-established habit to hit all or most items each day. That’s the best I can do, that and being accountable to you, my friends and readers, about what I’m spending my day doing. I may only write about what I did the previous day and call that a blog post, I don’t know. But I plan on keeping on keeping on.

None of us is certain what the future may bring. But hopefully it won’t bring a third straight year of me hanging it up for a while, regardless of the reason.

Long-Term Lethargy

Standard

My wife mentioned something to me the other day that I’ve been mulling over ever since. I mentioned that I was lethargic again and she pointed out that I’ve more or less been that way for about six months.

I honestly had no idea that it’s been going on that long, but I’ve pretty much established a pattern of waking with (or before) my alarm, doing at least part of my morning routine, and then becoming just too tired to keep my head up anymore, and so I go back to sleep for a nap. I usually repeat that process at least once or twice during the day – get up, get little things done, and then go back to bed. Yesterday I didn’t get out of bed for good until the early evening, although to be fair, I spent a couple of hours in bed watching a movie on my phone, and wasn’t sleeping. Today I managed to stay awake long enough to get my entire morning routine done, but I was back in bed within an hour.

So the question is: what to do about this? It’s not a pressing matter yet, but sometime next year I’m going to be re-evaluated for my disability and if they deem me prepared to go back to work, then I’m not going to have a choice. I also don’t want this to be that long-term of a problem.

I’m starting to stress about the excess sleepiness.

Often I will consciously think to myself “I have nothing else to do, I should just probably go back to bed” and then do so. I’m skipping out on things that I would normally be doing with my day. Even though they aren’t much, they still keep me going and keep me entertained, and when I can’t even be bothered to goof off and watch a movie or play a game, then there’s likely something else at work here besides “I’m just tired all the time.”

And the extra sleep is affecting my mood. At the end of the day I have a mood tracking app that I use and looking back through that, the days where I write something reflecting staying in bed for portions of the day tend to coincide with days that my mood isn’t as good as it could be, usually falling on a 2 or 3 on a scale of 1 to 5. Days that I feel productive and don’t spend as much time in bed and I actually find time to fill my hours, without otherwise having an emotional incident, are usually a 4. (In the five weeks or so that I’ve been doing this log, I’ve never had a 5 day. Nor, for that matter, have I had a 1 yet either. I’ve been kinda down or kinda up or just meh but not fantastically so in either case.)

Even now, as I begin to wrap this up, my brain is thinking that I don’t have anything else on my daily checklist to do until lunch, and that’s not until 3, so what am I going to do with that three-plus hours between me publishing this post and me eating lunch? My brain is already starting in: “Might as well sleep it off.”

Well, since I don’t have anything better to do …

The Insidious Power of Music

Standard

I was having an okay day this morning. I got up with the alarm, I did my vitals and my meds and my breakfast, and I went back to sleep for a short little nap. Got up, dinked around on the computer, then went to go lie back down. The second nap was thanks to lack of something to do.

While poking around on the computer I managed to uncover a YouTube video of the extra tracks CD from the Genesis: 1976-1982 box set. This featured a lot of songs that I hadn’t heard before as we as some that I knew about and had heard before. So after my wife went to work, I cued it up.

I forgot one detail – this period of time includes music that Phil wrote about the breakup of his first marriage, and a lot of the songs that I was familiar with evoked feelings of loss, depression, desolation, and pain. Naturally, those were the songs that stuck in my head because of my familiarity with them.

My mood took a nosedive after that. I was sure that I was in everyone’s way, that I was a bother, that I should just keep to myself and stay quiet today while I silently suffered.

It wasn’t long that, against my better judgment, I reached out to a couple friends of mine and started to turn myself around. I’m better now – a bit lonely, perhaps, but I have a movie on (Guardians of the Galaxy for the umpteenth time) and I’m starting to come about and be productive with my day.

But I need to remember how much those particular Genesis songs affect me and have a ready counter to the mood they inspire whenever listening to them again. And I should likely be ready to reach out to others tonight as it gets later. I have a feeling that the evening might be a little rough on me.

The Long and Winding Road

Standard

I went to see my therapist today.

We talked at length about my feelings of shame, and she gave me a little homework – think of a time (several, if possible) that I made a mistake, dropped the ball or otherwise just flat screwed something up and DIDN’T feel shame. We also identified some possible triggers for my shame and some ways of countering it when it first arises.

We also talked briefly about the sudden downward spiral of Saturday night and made a little progress in resolving that situation. As before when it first arose, I’m keeping the details of that conversation to myself.

The bottom line is that we’re starting to make progress on getting me back in the workplace, which has been the end goal this whole time.

Sorry today isn’t really longer, but today’s therapy session was largely for me and me alone. But I promised an update, and now you have one.

Who Am I?

Standard

Last night my wife introduced me to a meme based off a Tumblr post and its response. The original post was “I don’t think people realise how hard it is to re-discover the person you were before depression or even try to remember your own personality.” The response was “And if you’ve had depression since early childhood you don’t even know if you have your own personality. You didn’t have time to be a person before depression, and it’s scary having no idea who you are.”

I thought about this and then realized how much it fit my own life. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder at age 15, but my journey began when I was six, after I threw a plate of spaghetti into a fellow student’s parent’s face. My parents thought I had a problem at that point, if nothing else an anger problem, and so I went to see my first psychologist. (I didn’t learn the reason for my first visit until this morning, incidentally.) I remember after the first few visits telling my mother that I wanted to go see someone that knew what they were doing – because I’d read the words “practicing psychologist” on his office door. I remember very little about those early visits. If we had what my doctor called a “good session,” we would play chess or he would allow me to play the very basic little Star Trek game on his TRS-80 computer for a few minutes after the session was over. I never did understand what made a “good session,” though, and to this day I remember little beyond the chess and the computer. (It’s those sessions with Star Trek that fueled my lifelong love of computers, something that I never quite managed to convert into a career, sad to say.)

There was another psychologist that I saw between the first one and the diagnosis. Again, there wasn’t really much that I remember about this guy, other than it was fairly common for me to come in, fall asleep, and have him wake me up to tell me the session was over. In retrospect, I don’t think the guy was a good psychologist, since I kept going and falling asleep, and he evidently never told my parents about it, because I’m sure they would have been appalled to hear that they were paying for me to take a nap. I only saw him for a couple years, though, and still at the time had no idea why I was going to see anybody.

The point is that I had six years of my life to define who I was before my symptoms started manifesting to the point that I went to seek help, and that’s not much time at all to determine who you are. So I very much sympathize with the response to the original Tumblr post that opened this entry: It’s scary having no idea who you are.

For a brief period of about a year, I knew who I was and was confident in that knowledge, even though I was still suffering through some of the worst times my symptoms ever handed me. Then I moved out of state and I quickly lost all confidence in who I’d worked hard to become. I regained a modicum of that person a few years later when I became fairly symptom free, able to easily counter the nagging self-doubt that I was experiencing, but that vanished after a period of several months. I haven’t ever been both sure of who I was and able to combat my symptoms, and that is eventually the goal.

The good thing is that between those two experiences flirting with self-knowledge and self-confidence I know who I want to be. But that’s going to take a lot of work to get to that point, since it’s going to require me returning to the workforce for that to happen, and I’m just not there yet. That’s the end goal, however, and it’s time I stopped dealing with the here and now and started delving into the deeper issues that are holding me back.

The questions for now are: Do I need to figure out who I am before I can become who I want to be? Is it important to know who I am in the interim? Should I focus on being before becoming?

I have a therapist’s appointment tomorrow. I can’t think of a better time to kick off this new focus. I’m sure I’ll be writing about that in tomorrow’s installment. Stay tuned …

Morning Meltdown

Standard

This morning I awoke at 7:30 or so because of my back (the alarm doesn’t go off until 9:00) and I did my vitals and brushed my teeth. Went to prepare coffee for both of us, which usually means putting sleeves on the cups (we use the plastic reusable Starbucks cups: they’re durable, they’re stackable, and they cost a buck apiece), putting one scoop of xylitol and two scoops of creamer into the cups, and preparing two reusable K-cup filters’ worth of regular coffee per cup, then using the small cup button on the Keurig when brewing. I was planning on prepping both cups for me and my wife, but only brewing mine until she awoke.

I got as far as getting the sweetener and the creamer in the cups when I suddenly was overcome with doubt that I had done it correctly – I thought I’d only put one scoop of creamer in each cup instead of two. I opted not to toss what I’d done and waste the xylitol, since we were pretty low, but instead just set them aside and quietly freaked out over screwing up the coffee. I went into the bedroom and snuggled up to my wife, who woke up and asked me what was wrong. I told her and she tried to reassure me that everything would be okay, but my brain, in the time it took to realize what I thought I’d done, stand there for about fifteen seconds contemplating my options, and then slowly pad into the bedroom with the gait of someone that’s guilty of committing a grievous offense against humanity and was caught doing it, wasn’t having any of it. I’d hit full meltdown mode and I was refuting everything she was trying to reassure me of.

Somewhere in there I got sleepy again and felt that it was wrong of me to have woken her up while I was still sleepy. Again she refuted me and asked me where my evidence was that I had done wrong. After getting her frustrated to the point that she was starting to kick herself for not fixing my problems, we both went back to bed and didn’t wake back up until 11:00. The sleep was the reset that we both needed.

The problem that I have with this is that I have the tools to refute my brain weasels on my own, yet this time I failed to use them – just like I’ve failed to do so very often throughout my life. The version of reality that my brain tries to convince me of is the only thing that I can hear, even in the face of overwhelming concrete evidence against that alternate reality. Maybe I wasn’t awake enough to bring those tools to bear – I oftentimes have morning meltdowns and that might be one of the reasons why. Maybe it’s because I felt like I had to be awake because I woke up and it was light outside, and my body really wasn’t done sleeping, and I was dealing with that fight that my body and my brain were having with one another. I really don’t know what caused it this morning, but I knew that it was almost instantaneous, the feeling that I had massively screwed up and the overwhelming need to be comforted through it.

Things worked out this time, but next time something like this happens I’m going to try and be more critical of it, refuting the brain weasels best I can. (Incidentally, if you’re wondering why this doesn’t work all the time, well … I wish I had an answer for you. If we could just talk or breathe our way through our emotional crises like this, we’d put the vast majority of therapists out of work. A lot of times events like this morning have a deeper root than we’d like to admit, and sometimes it takes digging deep to find the root problem and work on that. I think this was one of those times. I couldn’t point to a single instance from my childhood that would have formed the behavior that I exhibited this morning, but I can tell you that I was under a great deal of pressure from my parents to excel at school, and I think that’s one of the reasons I didn’t, to rebel against the pressure to be the golden child. Or I could have been kicked in the head by a horse when I was a kid. Who knows. Also, that bit about the horse actually happened to me, but that’s a blog post for another time.)