A lapse is not a relapse

In writing this blog I feel a certain (wholly internal) pressure to present myself as being happy all the time. But as anyone who has recovered from the terrible illness of depression knows, that is not always the reality. It took me years to accept that depression is a chronically relapsing illness - that however wonderful I might feel, and however solid those feelings seem, I carry within me the possibility of feeling bad and can't really predict what might come along to set it off. Right now, after a good start at getting on with reality following a wonderful holiday, reality has turned round and bit me in the bum! There just seems to be a little too much of it. When chores and challenges seem to outweigh fun and pleasure it becomes tempting to focus on the frustrations and difficulties in life. If I then blow them up to much bigger than life size they start to they crowd out all the good things. That leads to some of the painful feelings I'm experiencing at the moment, albeit at a mild level.

I don't know about other people, but to me depression always feels like failure. The reason I write publicly about these moments in this blog is that I know how important it is to me when I read or hear that other people don't always feel great. I don't mean that I want others to suffer, or resent their happiness. It's more that it's reassuring to know we are all human, and all fart in the bath sometimes, even the people who I revere as great role models. So reading about how the Dalai Lama had a terrible problem with his temper makes me feel a lot better about how angry and irritable I get sometimes. Likewise reading that Dr David Burns, the great psychiatrist and author of 'Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy' and other powerful books, yelled at his son or was a geek who couldn't get a date at high school makes it easier to accept that I'm not always the person I'd like to be. Or hearing that John Kirwan, the All Black I most admire because of his honesty about his struggles with depression, still has the odd down day.

Perfection is intimidating, because we are not built to be perfect. But what I know after all my years of transforming depression into happiness is that a lapse does not have to be a relapse. If I use the tools I've learned - like recognising and challenging distorted thoughts, planning my day (including fun and pleasure!), writing down the good things, talking to trusted friends, getting outside for exercise and bright light, accepting my feelings and working on a goal - this too shall pass, and I'll be back in my happy place.

The impact of protein on my mood

A few years ago I had a horrific relapse of depression. It was brought on by a difficult relationship that ended badly. My mood swings were huge and some days I feared for my life. Even worse, all the things that normally worked to stabilise my mood had no impact. It took me quite a few months to work out that maybe the hormonal instability that comes with menopause was part of the problem. Even when I did, the treatment options seemed limited. I didn’t want to do Hormone Replacement Therapy even if I could have found a doctor to prescribe it.

Luckily I stumbled on something that helped quite by accident, looking for a book on how to lose weight (again!) The book I picked up recommended a diet very low in sugar and pointed out that the body processes any refined carbohydrate (such as flour) as if it’s white sugar. The author put forward evidence that this not only affects blood sugar levels but also serotonin levels in the brain, making it a double whammy for sending mood sky high and then dropping it through the basement again. This is particularly a problem for people who are very sensitive to sugar.

I did the sugar sensitivity test and found I scored very highly. Figuring I had nothing to lose I started the diet. Some aspects of it were not so helpful, but gradually my moods started to stabilise. I was also doing a lot of other things (see my post yesterday for details of the whole list) but the change in diet made a real difference. Finally I worked out that I didn’t need to do the whole, complicated diet – all I really needed was to eat protein as part of every snack and meal. The acid test was when I forgot and just had carbs on their own. I usually realised I’d done this when my mood plummeted for no apparent reason and I could trace it back to the moment I last ate something. Now I’m religiously careful about eating protein with everything. I can’t provide any stunning scientific evidence to support it but for me it really seems to work. As an added bonus not only did I get more emotionally stable and less depressed, but on this diet I feel calmer and get angry far less often than I used to.

Is perfect happiness the goal?

My friends are pretty frank with me, in a loving way. That’s they way I like them. When I showed the story of how I transformed my depression into happiness to my closest friend he said ‘it seems to me that as soon as you have another failed relationship, you’ll get depressed again.’ It's true that rejection is my weakest point, although he seemed to forget that not every break up has been followed by a depression. My break up with him, for instance. But it reminded me that I’m not always happy. I have my down hours, sometimes days. Occasionally I’m up and down for a week or two.

I called another close friend and asked her ‘Is there any point in writing my personal story if I’m not always happy?’
‘People are turned off by someone who’s perfectly happy,’ she said. Instantly I realised that she was right. Someone who’s struggling with depression is going to feel resentful of some Sally Sunshine who claims to be constantly happy. It’s just too high a standard to aim for – it almost sets you up to fail. It’s hard to be accepting of one’s ups and downs if perfect happiness is the goal, let alone feel safe revealing them to others.

After I hung up I asked myself ‘what have I got to say if I’m not always happy?’ I thought about what my life would be like if I had not made the decision, time after time, to pick myself up after each relapse, each bad day, and try again to find happiness. I very likely wouldn’t still be here. But if I was, I certainly wouldn’t have experienced as many moments, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years of happiness as I have. Happiness would not be my default position, something I notice mainly when it disappears. This then is what I have to say. It’s possible to be a lot happier if you try the things that work and keep on trying even when your mood falls over for a while. And that’s worth the effort.