[DanaC]

Originally Posted by Aliantha

I learned to make myself think beyond the moment I'm in, meaning to re-adjust my focus from the now and look forward and consider how I'm feeling now from that perspective. To think about what my future will be if the thing that's getting me down really comes to pass, or doesn't end. To think about the fact that feeling as I do in the moment isn't how I'll feel in the end, and to be aware of the fact that feelings are always more intense in the moment than they usually are in hindsight.

I guess it's basically taking my logical mind away from my emotional mind and using it to control my emotional outcome.

warning: long post...sorry :P

I can relate to this. it's quite similar to how I deal with things. Future pacing is a really useful method I often find. I sometimes try to project into a future and imagine I am in that future looking back to where I actually am, remembering how I felt and talking to my remembered me (as indeed I do when i look back at myself from the present) telling myself it's ok. You made it.

I have a number of mental tricks. Sleight of mind, so to speak. For example, if I am upset, or my mind is railing around in unhelpful ways, my internal voice is what saves me. I do it automatically. In my mind I am explaining my feelings, or the things that have upset me and why. Sometimes this is in the form of an imagined conversation, with a friend or colleague; sometimes and more usualy these days, it's in the form of an imagined Cellar post :P I imagine trying to make them understand what it is I'm feeling, how these things have impacted on me. Usually this starts with a feeling of isolation: nobody has a clue what's going on inside here. I am very good at hiding pain and sadness. I know this. So I imagine myself lifting the veil and letting someone in.

As you may have noticed in here. Explaining what I mean as fully as I can is something that is important to me. I hate to be misunderstood. I hate the almost inevitable lack of disclosure that comes from trying to convey in language something which cannot fit into words. I exert that same effort in my internal dialogues...

What begins as raw and wild emotion, confusion and chaos, sadness and existential terror, becomes an intellectual exercise, a matter of creative language. Explaining my emotional state (to this 'other' and to myself) becomes more central and direct than the actual feelings. I am at heart a lover of language and stories. Subtly, my explanations shift from a need to understand/explain to an exercise in creative expression.

This distance allows me the space to look in from outside the situation. The dialogue now changes, to one between me and myself *smiles*

At this point I am usually able to laugh at myself a little. I know my mind, I know what I am like. From my vantage point of aloof dispassion, i can smile at the melodramatic nature of my explanations: the wild shouts in my mind, the intricate language.

I similarly end up with a wry smile if I start spinning poetry in my head. It's something I do a lot. For every poem I post in here, there are many more that never leave the confines of my head (except for odd snatches of verse written on bits of paper in the middle of the night and then never returned to). I instinctively try to put my experiences into .... poetry or lyrics, sometimes I'm not sure which. *Grins* but actually, the depths of despair isn't a creative space for me. It's great for gathering ideas, but putting the words together not so much. I have composed some truly awful poetry in my time. Turgid and limping along, almost crippled under the weight of it's own verbiage.

When the poetry is bad, I end up laughing at it. An affectionate laugh, I am not cruel to myself. I know I am a good wordsmith when I choose to be, but the poetry I write in that particular mood often reminds me of my younger days, before I'd found my own voice.

Composing poems in my head, or creative pieces, can have one of two effects. Having laughed at myself I might feel more relaxed and starts directing my thoughts to more pleasant things. Or, in beginning the creative process I may have put myself into a writing mood ad then I am composing properly. My focus is now fully on composition. Less directly a route for my specific pain and more an exploration of wider themes.


This sounds more complicated than it is. It all happens quite fast and instinctively. About midway through (less these days, I usually cotton on much faster) i realise what I am doing and from that point i am actively engaging in the process. That point of realisation is wonderful. It's such a relief. It's like a return to myself. To control. I rarely spend long, blown about by wild emotion. though that control then allows me to delve in and explore how I feel as and when I feel strong enough to. It allows me to dripfeed the emotions in a manageble way. I can disassociate myself from the pain and deal with it cerebrally.

That's how I usually deal with things like grief. It's how I coped when I lost Dad.

If and when I choose to I can let go and swim in it. That's what I did when Dad died. Sitting in the bath, by candlelight, a series of images hit me. Very strong memories of Dad. So, I followed the path and I revelled in it. I wept for him then, but I always, no matter how deep the sobs, no matter how caught my breath, I always kept that little part of myself on standby. Waiting to step in if I sank too deep.

After a little while, I calmed myself. I focussed my attention onto memories that made me smile. I got out of the bath. I felt quite pleased with myself. I'd allowed myself to feel it fully and it hadn't sunk me.

I then wandered abou tthe house composing a poem about him. I felt elated. Quietly so. I explained his death in my head and reminded myself of how...beautiful it was. After all that. Who'd have thought death could have beauty in it.

Being able to associate or disassociate from emotional distress is a very handy tool in my experience. But...and here's the rub. Just at the edges is a tiny nagging doubt. When the really bad shit hits...will I cope, or will the chaos and confusion I used to live in, long ago, return. When I experience the wrench of true loss, the loss of those who are intricately bound up in the minutiae of my day...will it break me? Another nagging fear...will that real deep, deep depression ever come back? That was wild descent i never want again. If it did...would my tricks work? Are they working, is that why the descent always stops now, when I spot where I am and take charge? Or is it waiting for me?

*chuckles* yeah. But then i tell myself it'll be ok. And most of the time I listen.

Mostly this has been about how I deal with fairly direct emotional states (grief, loss, sadness etc) but depression is more complicated than that, so when that strikes there's other stuff to take account of. What takes an hour in grief, might take much longer in depression. It's more subtle, less easily recognised and more insidious in its effects. I'm going to mull over my methods for dealing with that a little more before I try to explain them.


I know there are lots of dwellars here who dance with depression from time to time. I'd be interested in hearing how you get through the lows (and I guess also the highs?).