Garden of Daisies

Finding a Balance

November 30th, 2006

I had a breakdown yesterday.

It had been coming for a while, and I was in denial about it. I was working on this paper for my Celtic Culture class. I had all sorts of research done, and a pretty solid outline which even went as far as detailing what points I needed to communicate in each paragraph. But I couldn’t write it. I didn’t know how. I didn’t feel comfortable trying to communicate my thoughts in a manner which would be appropriote for this paper and so everytime I tried I froze.

Teusday was the day after it was due, and I’d promised myself and my prof I would get it in Wednesday morning. Teusday I was a little crazy. I would yell, and bang on the table, and sulk and whine, and then finally I started to cry and eventually I went to bed. ….but I was sure it was just the paper–that I couldn’t do it. That I was “out of my element”.

Yesterday I still could not work on it. Yesterday I called my boyfriend (the most wonderful guy ever) and snapped at him for anything he said. Yesterday I wanted to throw the phone, throw my books– so I put it aside and went to edit my psych paper. And yesterday I couldn’t do that either.

For a couple of days Gabe had been trying to help calm me down by saying, “Don’t stress about this paper. Just relax and work on staying happy.” And I would think “Shuttup, I am happy. I’m fine. My light therapy is working. It’s this stupid (explicitives removed) paper”.

I was not happy.

Yesterday I admitted it to myself. I had been fending it off for a few days-but the truth was I was angry, frustrated and on the verge of tears most of the day for three days in a row–I was not happy at all.

So as planned I went to talk to my prof about the paper, but contrary to the plan I ended up admitting all about this S.A.D. thing. And she was so understanding. We had already talked about the penalties involved in handing it in later, or after exams and they were big (and I was soooo okay with that), but when I got to the S.A.D. bit she melted and said “ok, Padraigin, then we’re dealing with something different. This is medical. I’ll tell you what. Do not do your essay. Focus on exams. Enjoy Christmas. And get me your essay in the new year”.

I cried for about an hour. First in a parking lot behind her building folded over in a ball. Then walking to somewhere I thought would be more private. Then sitting up against a wall in a hallway on campus. I felt guilty, and worthless, and releived all at once and I didn’t know how to deal with it. Plus I worried about what it meant for me. Would I have to consider meds all over again? What if my light isn’t working? I messaged my roommate, and prepared for a night of brainless vegging with the T.V..

Then I realized my psych paper wasn’t due for another hour and I still had time to edit it. So I got up, went to the library and edited that paper. Which may not seem like a big deal–but it was. It was me proving to my body that I could do it.

Then I was o.k. The depression was gone. I ate some food, got energy–and was motivated all night.

So does that mean it wasn’t real to begin with? I really don’t think so.

I think it means that my light is working, but it isn’t magic. This time last year I was sleeping all the time, I had dropped one of my courses and I wasn’t ever showing up to work. I’m doing a lot better. But then I added an essay that I didn’t have a clue how to write to the mix, and it extended past its deadline and started threatening to need attention during exams–that’s stressful for absolutely anyone, and I’m in a time of year where I have to respect and be nice to my body.

This light and my shakes are not all-powerful. I’m not supposed to be able to do any and everything I want to do. I need to get to a balance between what I would like to do and what my body can handle.

I’m not proud of having an open-ended extension (for the record). I feel pretty guilty about it, because I was raised to think that you can’t get down from the table until you’ve eaten all the food you put on your plate. I signed up for all these courses–that was my choice…

But I will learn. I will learn what I can handle and I will work within it. It will be a process, but it’s a process that is well on its way…

Entry Filed under: Seasonal Affective Disorder, My life