Bit of a Nose Dive

I’ve been doing rather well in recent months, overall. Better, if still imperfect, sleep. At least some work most days. Substantially more exercise (still not enough but improved). Generally upbeat and stable mood. It’s been encouraging to feel that much better for weeks and weeks at a time.

And now, for whatever reason, I’ve taken a bit of a nose dive.

My husband and I had even talked about the possibility a while ago. “It’s likely this won’t be entirely straightforward… I might have days that are hard again… but it’s going the right direction, so I’ll not feel as hopeless.”

Well, that’s both right and wrong, of course. It’s not straightforward, and I’m having some hard days, that part is right. But thinking I would not feel as hopeless, that part was wrong.

I feel as hopeless as ever.

I mean, in my head, I’m able to tell myself that the trajectory is upward, that I have more skills now, that I know it’s possible to feel better, all that useful knowledge. However, those positive thoughts don’t make a dent on my bleak emotional landscape. There, everything is barren and cold and spiky and hopeless, and I’m very, very alone.

I want to scream and throw things but since I’m the well-behaved type, I instead spent the day in bed, hating myself. I was also hating E because she doesn’t understand and doesn’t care (probably not true, but feels true, today) and because she can’t fix it. I don’t want to reach to friends because I’m miserable and boring and depressed and who wants a friend like that? I guess I’m afraid I’ll frighten them off and then not have any friends left later, when I feel better.

It feels like someone peeled back the skin from my arms, the cover from my heart, leaving them raw and exposed, nerves standing on end, silently screeching. But in fact no one did that, and I’m fine. It’s confusing to be fine and so very not-fine at the same time.

May this suffering be short. May all your sufferings be short. May we find peace and connection and hope.


  1. Sorry to hear you feel this way, so you think the feeling so alone and out of sorts might be linked to cutting down your therapy hours? Just a thought. Hope whatever this is, passes quickly for you.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I don’t think the nose dive is because of cutting back on therapy, but I do think the sense of being alone is accentuated by having fewer therapy appointments. I actually added one with E back in last week. I was reluctant to (kind of felt like it was a failure) but I could see that staying away out of pride wasn’t really serving me.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Sounds to me like the whole therapy thing is a juggling act that often changes like the weather! I suppose you’ll either reap the benefit, in which case you could temporarily add more sessions back in for a while, or you won’t – in which case you experimented and found the extra wasn’t necessary.
        Sounds like you’ve been through the mill a lot and held yourself together with your son’s stuff, making good progress, and I dunno… it strikes me that sometimes after an almighty leap it’s one step forward and two steps back again for a while. I’m kind of experiencing a bit of that myself at the moment but for different reasons.
        🤞🏼Here’s to hoping we both find our equilibrium again asap 😊

        Liked by 1 person

  2. I wish you fast healing and I’m so sorry you feel this way. Remember, there is always at least one more person feeling the same way as you, so you’re never alone

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Sending you lots of love as a salve to the hopelessness. You’re doing amazingly even when you don’t think you are. I know how hard this place is. I’ve taken up residency in Hopeless but as I am here for a while I’ve sent for some comforts – duvet, teddy, chocolate!! 🙄 big hug x

    Liked by 1 person

    • I notice my own chocolate consumption increasing as well. Also I sit on the couch and binge-watch Netflix as a way to distract myself from my misery. Luckily for me, my husband doesn’t judge me for my inertia. I sometimes judge myself, but I’m trying not to. The truth is, I would never choose this, if I had a choice. So if a little chocolate, diet Coke, Netflix and long naps help me get through it, that’s not the worst thing in the world.

      I hope you are soon able to move out of Hopeless into a softer, more optimistic place.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. So sorry you’re feeling down again. What you say is very true though – you now have skills, and knowledge, and memories of feeling better, so you will again feel better, despite how it feels. You are an inspiration to me in general. Because you can do some things, I feel I can do some things too.

    Do you think the stress of having your son live with you is affecting your emotional health? My son moving in would send me to the loony bin entirely. (joke with just a grain of truth).

    Take care

    Liked by 1 person

    • Hi Ellen, thanks for the encouraging words. I am absolutely clinging to the idea that I will feel better again. It’s my lifeline.

      I think that having my son here is hard for me, yes. Not because he’s especially demanding or difficult–he’s not. But when he lived far away, it was easier for me to forget sometimes that he wasn’t living a healthy life (physically or emotionally). Now I can’t escape that realization for even one day. It’s hard to accept and sometimes a heavy weight on my heart.

      Even though that is true, I don’t think it’s the source of this most recent depressive episode. I am not sure, but I think it might be connected to a supplement I started taking earlier this month, something my nutritionist recommended. There’s nothing wrong with the supplement, but my whole system is hyper-sensitive from the Effexor, so it’s often the case that adding or changing something simply messes me up, especially if it affects the liver function at all, so that the way I metabolize the Effexor changes, even a bit. I didn’t realize it at first because it took about three weeks for the symptoms to fully materialize, but now I see that it’s the same pattern I have when I reduce my Effexor dose or try other meds or supplements: the interrupted sleep, the tingliness in my hands and feet, the struggle with focusing, then the increasingly negative thoughts and finally the fixation with harming or killing myself. I won’t kill myself–I’m very committed on that point–but that doesn’t keep me from thinking about it a lot when I”m not doing well.

      Anyway, once I realized this might be the cause, I stopped taking the supplement (yesterday morning). I’m not better yet, not really, but I feel like this evening maybe I have a little bit of space in my head that is not fully consumed with telling me that I’m useless and horrible. Like I’ll think: oh my god, I just suck. Maybe I’ll make tacos for dinner. I’m just hopeless. There are some avocados, so I can make fresh guacamole; that will be good. After everyone goes to sleep, I could burn myself, if I need to. I bet my son will like these thicker tortillas, especially if I fry them up.

      It’s bizarre to think that way, and almost funny, if I step back and observe it from a little bit of distance. And actually, being able to step back and get that distance is a good sign.

      Liked by 1 person

      • I think getting that distance is an excellent sign. You’re not as ‘blended’ with the thoughts as you used to be, as my T would say. Though I’m sorry your thoughts have such pain in them. The mix of dailiness and despair is blackly funny I agree.

        Hope it is the supplement, as that can be pretty easily fixed. I’m a big believer in some physical causes of psychological suffering, just through personal experience, like my insomnia being pretty much cured by removing caffeine, when I assumed all kinds of psychological issues at fault. And supplements are just as much an intervention as meds IMO – can be good, can be terrible, can sometimes be helpful and other times unhelpful. I was taking Tyrosine, but suspect it helped bring on some massive anxiety, so stopped taking that one for now.

        I understand about your son – it’s hard. You seem so incredibly patient though. Even when you wrote about how you’re not a perfect mother, you still seemed incredibly patient to me.

        Fingers crossed stopping the supplement helps.


    • Thank you, Empress. I mean it. Each of these messages on my despairing post is a like a little treasure, a message from the larger world that I’m not invisible.


  5. Sorry things are rough for you right now. Hopefully it is the supplement and you will level back up. Isnt it interesting how when things are off our brains go back to depression. Anytime I’m not feeling well, physically, mentally, emotionally, I KNOW it’s because I suck and should die. I think our brains try to figure out why or what is wrong and that is the go to answer. Hopefully the insight about the supplement makes it easier (?) to endure the downturn. Sending you love

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks for your kinds words. It definitely is the supplement, and I’m feeling a bit better each day now that I’ve stopped it. It’s such a relief not to be in that pit of despair. I hate that effing pit!

      And by the way, no matter how you feel, you absolutely do not suck and should not die! Please print that out in large letters and stick it up on your wall. 🙂 It’s the truth.


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