The Happiest Depressed Person I Know

My previous family doctor was the first person I told I was depressed. He put me on Zoloft and I would continue to see him until he retired several years later. (It would be a few years later that I would be diagnosed with bipolar and realized Zoloft was a bad idea. Oops.)

He had a wonderful nurse that worked for him (all of the staff were amazing) and she once told me "you're the happiest, depressed person I know." She said this because even though I was diagnosed with depression and even if I was in an episode of depression, I would always say hello with a smile on my face. I was always friendly, laugh if someone said something funny and crack my own jokes as well.

I've thought about that statement off and on over the years. Originally, my first thought was "I have to be like that, it's my way to survive. I'm putting on a brave face."  

But that's not true. I've been thinking about that statement recently, because I've been in an episode of depression and I've realized in those moments, when I'm being nice to people, when I'm laughing, making jokes and so on, it's genuine. I'm not acting. Depression conned me into believing I was putting on an act.

Lately I've been very depressed. One moment, I can be cracking a joke, dancing around and then when that stops "the weight of depression returns."  Thoughts of hurting myself or moments of binge eating return. The laughter, the joking, the interacting with people, doesn't get rid of my depression, it temporarily pauses it. Then the depression rushes back in like one of my IBS attacks, fast and furious.

It's amazing how depression can be so deceptive. My depression loves to tell me in those moments when I'm interacting with people, laughing, helping, whatever it may be, they are fake, they aren't real. Only the depression is real, everything else is an illusion.

When I remembered that statement and had the idea to write this post, I realized, that's bull shit.

It's not an illusion. It's the depression part of my brain trying to win over the healthy side of my brain. It's the depression part of my brain trying to mess with me. Telling me lies. Making me believe that I can't actually achieve feeling good. But, it's bullshit. Those moments are genuine, they are real and I need to remind myself of that. I need to keep reminding myself to try and hold the depression at bay. 

Depression is a crook, it's trying to steal my good moments, it has a strong front and it's relentless. To build up the defences and create a strong front for the good part of my brain, I need to allow myself to acknowledge those good moments are real, they are genuine and they can continue to happen. 

So when an employee tells me "I love how excited you get about things", I am going to tell myself "that statement is true and I bring joy to others" instead of "they are trying to tell me I am over the top and they don't like me."

When someone tells me "you are always so friendly when I see you", I am going to tell myself "I am friendly to others and it makes a difference" instead of "they think I'm miserable and I need to be happier."

When someone tells me "I really appreciate your help." I'm going to tell myself " I was helpful, I am knowledgeable" instead of "I'm stupid and they feel bad for me, they are just being nice."

I am going to allow myself the opportunity to acknowledge the truth. It won't be easy. At times, depression will do what it does best, attack me, to bring down my defences. 

There will be times where depression is an A+ con artist that pulls one over on me. My challenge will be, when that con artist does pull one over on me, not to take the blame. It's not my fault. Depression is a thief, a con artist, a liar, a manipulator and more. 

I can be happy and depressed, that is valid and I will make the effort to acknowledge the happy moments and when the negatives ones creep through, I will attempt to make the effort to wade through the shit and find the truth. 

And if I can't wade through the shit, then at the very least I need to know, it's not my fault, the fault belongs to depression. 

Depression is not me, it's a separate entity that has squatter rights in my brain. Get the fuck out, you have overstayed your welcome, you weren't welcome in the first place.

Medications

I just took my HIV medications, as I normally do every night, around this time. After I downed the third pill, I sat there, staring at the prescription bottles. I realized how fortunate I am. Yes I have a horrible disease. Yes the disease isn't a "death sentence" anymore, BUT it's still a very serious disease that kills too many people. At the same time how lucky am I, I only have to take three pills a day to control the disease. In my province where I live, they pay for my medications. I don't pay a cent - in the beginning I had a lot of guilt over this. But as I went through group therapy and explored my issues, my mental health and childhood, I realized getting HIV wasn't black or white. It was a lot more complicated than just saying "I did it to myself." As I ramble on, my point is, I hate having this horrible disease but at the same time I an consider myself fortunate.

Health Update - Fake stroke and falling asleep while pooping

I had my latest appointment with my HIV specialist a couple of weeks ago. CD4 cells were 640 and my viral load is still undetectable. YAY! I was on Atripla for over a year, but I couldn't handle the side effects anymore. I kept having such vivid, intense dreams every night it felt like I wasn't sleeping at all. In August I told my doctor and we switched my meds to Truvada, Reyataz and Norvir. I haven't been having crazy dreams and my sleeping has been much much better. Going through group therapy made me realize, I need to learn to speak up. Just because I have HIV doesn't mean I don't deserve to have a good quality of life. I've spent a lot of time feeling guilty for contracting HIV and group therapy has helped me learn how to forgive myself.

In other health matters, things have not been going so well. Starting in September I started having fatigue. I assumed that it was from being in group therapy four hours a day and once I was done I would start feeling better. I finished group therapy at the end of September and the fatigue has been getting worse and worse. I am extremely exhausted every single day. Thankfully I am still on medical leave from being in the group therapy, so I am only working 4 hours a day. I work from 8 am to 12 pm and it feels like I worked a sixteen hour shift. I go home and nap for 4-5 hours and then I have no problem sleeping my regular 7-8 hours a night.

Everything I do makes me tired and short of breath. Walking to the basement to do laundry, makes me tired and short of breath. It's ridiculous. A couple of weeks ago I shovelled the side walks and thought I was going to die I was so tired and out of breath. I went in the house (I can't believe I am going to share this) and had to go to the washroom. I was sitting on the toilet and...... I fell asleep! Yup that is correct, I fell asleep while pooping. WTF?! Who falls asleep while pooping? Not normal. I told my doctor about all this and his response was that it was probably my depression that was making me so tired. He suggested I go back on an anti-depressant. I told him I wasn't feeling depressed, I told him that I don't feel sad and I'm not withdrawing from friends and family. He said to just give the anti-depressant a try. I filled the prescription for the Celexa and after a few weeks, I let him know my mood was really great on the Celexa but I was still feeling exhausted and sleeping a lot. (My friends said I seemed so cute, happy and jolly - tee hee) I had also been to the hospital in that time because I was having troubles breathing and having chest pains.

The hospital ran a lot of blood tests, checked my thyroid, checked for infections, all came back normal. They took a stool sample (the highlight of that was when the nurse yelled down the hall to me - while I was waiting to get my chest x-ray) - she yelled "Jared is this your stool sample in here?" Yup, thanks for letting everyone know, I crapped into a container. All the tests and chest x-ray came back normal, they sent me home. Most recently my doctor sent me for a sleep apnea test and stress test. I have an appointment with him on Tuesday to review the results.

Then I have been having weird, creepy stroke symptoms. A few weeks ago I woke up and I had this weird numbness on the left side of my face and my left arm felt a little weak. I went to work and joked with my co-worker that I was probably having a stroke. After work I went to Arby's, I'm sitting there eating my sandwich and my hands won't work. I am trying to pick up the sandwich, I know how to pick up a sandwich, but my hands just won't do what I want them to do. I am freaking out, trying not to cry. After a couple of minutes I finally manage to get the sandwich into my hands,  but my mouth won't work. I am trying to bite and chew but my brain says nope, not today! The food just falls out of my mouth. After a couple of minutes my hands and mouth start working again but now I feel dizzy and really out of it. I keep thinking to myself, I need to get home, need to get home. I get up and drive home. Thankfully I made it home safely. I walk in the door and my roommate (my friend of eleven years), can instantly tell somethings wrong. She looks at me and says "what's wrong." I'm trying to respond but I can't find the words, all I can get out is "my brain won't work." "Umm what happened" she responds. I try to tell her about the Arby's incident, later she tells me I was talking really slow and slurring some of my words. I tell her about my hand's and mouth not working, she says "umm I think your having a stroke, I am taking you to the hospital."

Off to the hospital we go. I had to wait an hour to get in, which is extremely fast compared to the time I had appendicitis and had to wait seven hours to be seen. The triage nurse is asking me questions, it's taking me forever to respond. She asks me to spell my name and I just stare at her blankly. I get brought in and they do some neurological tests. My left arm, hand and left leg are considerably weaker than my right side, which worries them. They shine light in my eyes and I want to punch them in the face it hurts so much. The week before when I was in the hospital, they put the light in my eyes and I didn't even flinch. They give me two chewable advils and tell me they are going to send me for a CT scan. I see the head doctor in the distance, my he is good looking. I am wheeled to the CT scan and the CT technologist is also quite good looking. I think to myself, is this Grey's Anatomy? They complete the CT scan of my head and send me back. The guy taking me back is very cute. Do they schedule all the good looking people to work at the same time? Or is my stroke making everyone seem good looking? Who knows. My friend and I wait and wait and finally the neurologist comes.

CT scan came back normal, which is good but a CT scan won't always show if there is a stroke. They want to do an MRI but can't do one till morning, so I was admitted and had to stay overnight for observation. The next morning I have my MRI. Oh my lord, the MRI machine is loud. It sounds like someone is doing construction right next to your head. Is this machine from 1935? After thirty minutes the MRI is finally down. Back up to my room I go. The head neurologist comes up and says my MRI has come back normal. Definitely not a stroke. She says they think my symptoms are being caused by a migraine with aura. I respond with "but I don't have a headache." She tells me that can happen sometimes. I look at her skeptically. She asks me how the numbness is and I tell her it's still there but not as bad as the day before. She said that's good, that they are going to send me home. She tells me if it doesn't go away in a couple of days or get's worse to come back to the ER.

Well two days later it's worse. My hand keeps seizing/locking up, the numbess is in the left side of my neck, my ears, and the back of my head. I am nauseated off an on. I go back to the ER, wait three hours to be seen. The doctor says they are going to give me some migraine medications via IV and an anti-nauseant via the IV. I get my IV, I get my meds and the numbess starts going away. Yay, maybe it is just a creepy migraine with aura with no headache I am having. The doctor writes me a prescription and I leave. WELL! I am driving home and the numbess comes back with a vengance. It goes from my left temple, my left ear and to the bottom of my jaw. I am angry and refuse to go back to the hospital. I go home and go to bed. The next day, I decide to fill the prescription, maybe it just needs a few days to work. NOPE! Medication was definitely making it worse. I stopped the medication and went to my family doctor. I told him what happened and he looked at me with a WTF look. He prescribes me a different migraine medication - Flunarizine. I fill that medication and start taking it. I have been on it for two weeks now and no improvement. On the plus side it hasn't made things worse. If this truly is a migraine with aura with no headache, is it then the longest migraine ever? This past Friday my symptoms were really bad. Numbness on the side of my face, my left hand kept seizing/locking up, especially when I had to do things at work like remove a paper clip. It's been extremely frustrating and scary. Whenever I google/research my symptoms, MS always comes up. Whatever it is, I hope we figure it out soon and hope it's treatable.

It's been quite awhile

Wow, I haven't written a post in over two years. It's been an intense two years, but I truly can say I am a better person. I've changed jobs a few times, went through a group therapy program and more. I've decided I will revive the blog. I was shocked to see how many people have viewed it.

After my last blog post, I quit writing because I felt that writing about having HIV was letting HIV define me as a person. I have realized that HIV doesn't define me as a person. Only I can define me. Yes, HIV is a part of me, but I don't have to let it make me who I am.

I will talk about having HIV in this blog but I will also talk about going through group therapy and my life in general. The group therapy has helped me realize, holding in my thoughts and feelings is unhealthy. I am entitled to my feelings and entitled to express them. I've spent most of my life punishing myself and I am finally realizing I don't deserved to be punished. I have been through a lot of traumatic events in my life. Everyday is a challenge but a challenge I now feel I can face. I hope by writing this blog it will be therapeutic for me and help others as well.

I showed up for my appointment, yay!

So, I show up for my appointment. It probably helped that my good friend was coming with me for support. We met a half an hour before the appointment at a coffee shop.

I started the day, not wanting to get out of bed. I love sleep and I love my bed. I truly do. BUT, I got my ass out of bed at 11:30 am, I can't remember the last time I got out of bed before noon. Oh wait I remember, it was when I had a horrible experience at an employment agency and I was told I couldn't have the job because I had two late payments on my credit report... but that's a whole other story.

So, I got out of bed and had a shower. I then blow dried my hair and decided to flat iron my hair... I know, could I be any more gay! My flat iron is awesome! My friend bought it for me, she's a hair dresser, it's so tiny and cute. So anyways, after flat ironing my hair I realized I was behind schedule, so I didn't have time for breakfast.

I was two minutes late meeting my friend; I was late for good reason though, I parked 10 blocks away for free parking and walked all the way to meet her, it was a way to get exercise..... yes that's why I did it... exercise haha.

I ordered a caffee latte, I should mention I hate the taste of coffee. I was assuming it would be creamy like chai lattes I get, but oh no, I was wrong. Coffee to me, tastes like dirt. So I went to the counter to get sugar; well I almost put salt packets in my coffee, but thankfully the coffee gal working pointed me in the direction of the sugar. I put some sugar and milk in it... and then it tasted wonderful. Now I was all jittery from not eating and drinking coffee. My appointment was at the STD clinic... they have a doctors clinic there. To get to the reception desk, you have to walk down a long hallway. I like to call it the "walk of shame". One of these days, I really want to burst to in an exam room and say "how's that q-tip in your penis?".

So we get to the reception desk and the woman in the chair looks at me and then walks away. There are 6 other people and they are having a conversation. All I ask is to be acknowledged. Just a "hi, we will be right with you would suffice." But noooo that would be too simple. So anyways someone finally acknowledges me and tells me to have a seat.

S0 the doctor comes and gets me and we go to one of the rooms. She asks me if I have a list of my partners from January 2008, oops I thought they wanted from January 2009, not like it matters because I could only provide a list of three people. Unfortunately, most of my partners were anonymous that I either met offline or at a bathhouse. I'm not proud of it, I wish I would have had the ability to seek help for my depression, but I didn't. What's done is done. Need to look forward.

So then she asks me if I would like a book on HIV. I tell her yes I would . She hands me the book. This book is like a freaking text book! It has 22 chapters! Then I get on the bed thingy (I can't remember what it's called, I have had a couple of coconut rum and pepsi lime drinks while writing this... tee hee). She puts the rubber band around my right arm but can't find a vein. The she ties it around my left arm and finds a usable vein. While she is doing this I think about my appointment two weeks ago, when the nurse was trying to find my vein and kept calling my veins little buggers (best nurse ever by the way, I have never laughed so much at a doctors appointment). So anyways, she puts the needle in and jokes that I probably won't need a blood transfusion after. I ask her how many viles of blood she is taking and she tells me 11. I think to myself "shit, I should have had some breakfast." I am staring at the roof and the air vent catches my attention, it's effing crusty. It's all brown and dusty. What the hell?? It looks like someone took a shit on the roof.

Then she asks me what I do for a living. I tell her I work in a call center for a pizza company taking complaints. I go on about how people are passionate about their pizzas and that the world comes to an end when we forget their dipping sauce. She starts laughing and says she couldn't do my job, she would just end up telling people off. So finally she is done stealing all the blood out of my body. She leaves the room via the side door, and then come backs through another door. She says ha! I am houdini! I laugh, and think to myself, wow I am lucky that I have such awesome nurses/doctors to deal with. She tells me they take so much blood to test me for everything and anything such as tuberculosis and stuff. She hands me a form to go get chest x-rays taken, which also tests for tuberculosis.

A few thoughts go through my mind. First one is: this is what my life is going to be, constant medical test the rest of my life, fuck! Next I think thankfully I live in Canada and this is all covered by healthcare because right now I have no money (that is a whole other story I have to talk about).

So I leave the room and go to the waiting room where my friend is waiting for me. We leave and we go run some errands she has to do. We are at an office, she has some forms to fill out. I am standing beside her and start to feel light headed. I remember that I didn't eat breakfast and had 11 viles of blood taken, soooo maybe I should have something to eat. So when she is done, we head to the food court. This is the weakest food court I have ever seen. I am a food court connoisseur. I demand that I have selection! There is like 3 things to choose from. So I end up eating teriyaki chicken stir fry. It was good, but I still like to have options. I come home and take all my clean laundry off the floor and finally hang it up. I then watch the last half of hour of America's Next Top Model and realize why I stopped watching the show.... Tyra is freaking annoying!

Well that's my day, I know I rambled but it feels good to talk about what happened, to talk about the good, the bad and even the insignificant details of my day.

Tee hee. ( I love saying tee hee)