I have dealt with depression my entire life, or at least as long as I can remember. I was a self mutilator for such a long time. I remember being a little girl, probably 8 or 9, and taking my dad’s straight blade razor, using it to create cuts on my foot and then telling my mom I tripped on a big stick. I would take baseball bats/golf clubs and hit my knees and ankles with them. Back then, I dont think I realized why I was doing it. Just that the pain I felt, made me feel good. I don’t remember the first time I did it so I dont have an epiphany moment as to when it all started or why. I did it all in the privacy of my own room and if I actually did end up hurting myself, more than the immediate sensation, I would blame it on something else; cheerleading, riding my bike, getting into a fight with my brother, ect.
When I got older and started to realize my “desires” and actions it became more of a strictly cutting situation. I looked like a completely normal teenager on the outside but I felt like I was dying on the inside. I was even able to hide it from E for the first 3 months of our relationship.
E finding out was the turning point in my life. He went and told my parents, he stayed with me through their crazy confrontation, he supported me emotionally through the months of intense treatment. He never ever gave up on me. We had only been together for three months when this started and he never left my side. Most people would have run for the fucking hills when that type of shit hit the fan. Not E. He has always been my rock.
That was 10 and a half years ago.
Ever since then I have been in “recovery”. I am no longer on any type of depression medication and only take something for my anxiety when I get over-the-top worked up. I still see a therapist every 2-3 months just to make sure I am staying on the right track and managing my depression in an appropriate manner. I have my own quirky ways of dealing with stress and the such but lately something else has started and I can’t help but wonder: is this a new coping mechanism or am I really going crazy?
Just to preface; even writing this out sounds crazy so that may be my answer right there 😉 For the past 2 months or so I constantly am singing to myself, in my head. I am not doing it consciously, that I do know. I wake up in the middle of the night and the first thing that registers is a song. It is almost as if my mind was singing it and that is what woke me up. Whenever there is silence in a room, I am not formulating thoughts, there is an endless loop of songs running through my head.
Fucking crazy, right?!
I have been really trying to figure out the why’s of all of this and here is my theory: One of my coping mechanisms is to write lists and stay as organized as possible but with IF I have taken that to a whole new level of OCD. I have two notebooks for all of this stuff. One for test results, receipts and drug information. The other for treatment information, timelines, phone numbers, directions, all my cycle info. Both of these book are color coded, tagged and in a certain order. For those of you who watched Friends on TV, think Monica with her wedding book. When my mother saw it, she turned to me with a look of concern and asked if everything was ok because this “wasn’t normal.”
I have been so focused on all of the infertility mumbo-jumbo that I think my mind is telling me to slow down and that I can’t take thinking about one more thing regarding this. Considering IF takes up 99% of my daily life, I really think that the songs playing are a way for me to not think about anything else. I have to make a serious effort to “turn the song off” and have actual thoughts. As soon as I am done with the thought though, it’s like the veil immediately goes back up and a song starts again.
Needless to say, I will be bringing it up in my next session to see what the good ‘ol doc has to say about it. Here’s to hoping that I am going into some kind of ‘protect’ mode and he doesn’t tell me that I am just fucking crazy…