Dysthymia

Unlike "regular" depression, or bipolar disorder, dysthymia is probably both tougher to diagnosis, and more debatable about just how severe it is.

That said, I'm thinking more and more that I've probably had it, more than just off and on "daily blues," for about six years.

That was when my newspaper company in Dallas closed. I've had a rocky professional life since then, and since I've lived in places that weren't always my personal cup of tea.

How much this is actually dysthymia, and how much is likely related blunted affect on positive emotions, which for me I don't really doubt is PTSD related, I don't know.

I do know that I've had cumulative traumas. Old paper shutting down in the middle of the Great Recession. Added worries, compared to many people, on job hunting with newspaper journalism already struggling.

Then, after landing a new job, having that paper look me up online and finding a blog post I wrote about the whys of the closer of my previous paper. Getting reamed out, and worried I was going to lose that job.

Then, finding out that that paper's parent company entered Chapter 11 on the day I got there. Add in an abrasive (and not just to me, though) assistant supervisor.

Then, I got out to near Austin, just as the oil boom was hitting West Texas again. Looked like it would be a bit more money, and certainly a better area. Until I could not realize how screwy the paper was run. I think I almost went into shell-shock. That, in turn, affected my relationship with my immediate boss.

From there, to my current position. Making yet more money, but having two worry about the financial side of two newspapers in a rural county with declining population.

Why wouldn't I have chronic, semi-regular low grade depression?

My apologies, to both myself, and my one follower, whomever you may be, for not having been on here in a while.

I am probably going to write something next week or so, related to some personal feelings and increased family of origin isolation, over some of the big political and social news of the past few weeks.

Sometimes, a door closes, and that's it

There is no metaphorical window opening somewhere else.

There is now New Agey, activist and benevolent universe lending a helping hand.

Sometimes, a door closes, and that's it.

There are no New Agey "lessons" to be learned, either, about why that door closed.

The only "lesson" is a simple, psychological one: acceptance.

The door has closed, and is now sealed shut. I can't change it. Therefore I need to move on.

And, I need to stop expecting a window to magically open.

Instead, I must, as a normal human being, be looking for a new door, or whatever, that I can get to myself, to walk through it if it's open, or to figure out how to open it — if possible — if it's currently closed.

And, the sooner I accept that a door is closed is the sooner I can work on this.

Oh, it would be nice if a window magically opened.

It would also be nice if I won the lottery, if America has a 30-hour work week, and all sorts of other stuff.

But, that's not happening.

==

Personally, I am at the point of accepting a certain doorway is closing more now. And, if this doesn't inspire immediate change, getting closer and closer to the Social Security finish line will.

Frustrations and being "trapped"

Just had to have my car towed back to Hooterville from the nearby mini-metro area. I roughly know the cause, and if the tow truck driver is right on the exact cause, it shouldn't be too pricey. That said, it will cost money, and here in Hooterville, might not be done quickly.

That leads to issue No. 2.

A publishers' meeting in my newspaper company, which starts Friday. I'll have to rent a car, maybe. And, I hate the idea of a corporate meeting with Sunday sessions. And, this all reminds me that I'm the editor and publisher of two struggling papers in small towns that probably should be combined into one single paper.

I'm in my 50s, I can be grumpy too.

Having the worst case of sciatica I've had in at least 5 years, I think, after throwing my back out 2 weeks ago doesn't help. But, I'm not dead, and have less in the way of physical problems than Laura, Ang and others.

It's really that it reiterates the frustrations of still being stuck in Hooterville and that, for the last five-plus years, while I've stayed employed, my job moves have generally been escaping problems at the previous job, whether company closure in Dallas, skyrocketing housing prices in the Permian Basin, bad management at last position before this one, or a struggling economy in a struggling city and county here.

And, having been the victim (I believe) of age discrimination on one employment interview doesn't help.

Basically, things like this bring up the fear of being "trapped" that goes all the way back to my childhood issues, PTSD over the abuse.

Obviously things like this, or a drinking history that developed out of them, aren't things to be discussed with one's boss, even though she knows I've been looking for other work. Especially not when she is a "positivity" type who might think such things are easily transcended. 

Anxious about anxiety, thinking about thinking

A slow, languorous night, as I try to relax

From a long day before,

And enjoy life

A little bit more of a day, or a moment

At a time.

While knowing that the ability to

Not think too much, too often

Sometimes might be a blessing.

However, I know it could only be such

For me,

If I had never learned to think “too much”

In the first place.

The problem is not “thinking too much.”

Rather, it’s not having support for thinking a lot

Or for having feedback on thinking a lot.

Or for having parents who valued thinking

And offered support for facing anything

That it might raise up.

No, the problem is

Being anxious about thinking, then

Being anxious about anxiety.

If I can just remember this,

Just remember on a daily basis

For about 20 more years,

I might be OK then.

Or a better semblance of OK than now.

Reparenting myself

Through thinking, growing and anxiety,

Starts again.

The boss's voice

I have gotten to the point where my direct supervisor's voice (fortunately not a person with daily  overseeing of me) has become irritable. Hearing it on the phone once a week in a conference call is more than enough.

She sounds earnest, or "earnest." Like a teacher's pet sort of earnest. And, not at any grade level. Not an elementary school teacher's pet, nor a high-school one. Rather, it's the special earnestness of a middle school teacher's pet.

And, since she's the daughter of the owner of our company as well as my supervisor, there's not a lot I can do. Other than write something about  it, like this extended haiku.

That voice -- make it stop.
Eighth grade, come-on to teacher;
Whatever drives it.

The word is "earnest."
I've used it before, for people
Who come off like this.

But I have neer
Come across it this bad before
And I can't change it.

Boss: I can't change her.
Job: I can't change it for now.
But my attitude?

I can "accept" this;
Don't ask for my reaction.
And, anything else?

Other, I could do --
But will not. Like it, I won't;
Not now, nor later.

Breaking camel's back,
It grates my mental chalkboard.
Vocal styrofoam.

Add to this that I'm shorthanded right now, I'm not sure one recent replacement has nailed down everything financially yet, I'm stressed, and I'm in a declining town in a declining industry, and I can't get out!

Changes and transitions in family

I have a family of one, myself. However, for reasons of shared past and other things, I've long been closer to my sister -- a fair degree to a lot closer on serious issues -- than to any of my brothers. And, I consider my brother-in-law somewhat the brother I never had.

They moved to one part of central Texas about the same time I moved to an area less than 150 miles away. Then, 7 months later, I moved to just about 35 miles away. So, for almost two full years, I was over at their place (my small town had nothing special to attract them here) about every Saturday, and occasionally on a weekday.

I've often called my niece and nephew, their kids, the kids I'll never have. Without pontificating, I gave my niece a "growing up" letter in her card, and long with gifts, as she became a teen earlier this year. And my nephew? I've tried to have fun with him, including teasing while hoping I've not been overdoing things.

And now they're gone.

They moved a week ago to Arizona.

In some areas, I wasn't tremendously close. Matters religious vs secular, of course. But, they never preached at me, and in fact, my brother-in-law, a minister, gently tried to deflect a few probing comments by my nephew, 9, over the last months. And, while they're overall conservative, they don't trend from partway to fully wingnut, unlike my brothers.

It will probably take a week or to, especially a couple of Saturdays of trips over to where they lived, where I'll still do some bigger-city shopping, bigger-city library usage and more, then realizing that ... "oh, it's time to head back home" and it's not "let's drop by for dinner," or "what are you doing this afternoon" to all sink in.

Having their presence nearby, in a small town that's not just a small town, but a still-shrinking one, with a high rate of rural poverty and a fair degree of parochialism, and stresses over my job here in the newspaper biz, an industry that I still can't get out of, was a bit of soothing, a bit of destressing. And I don't have that any more.

So, it probably will take a few weeks to sink in. A couple of Saturdays.

That will probably include the realization that, on my end, even to the degree I compartmentalize my life, I didn't talk to them on some serious things as much as I could have.

A little DABDA

A little DABDA

A little DABDA will do ya,

Or so, the grieving are told.

But there’s no right way, or wrong way, to mourn

Even if there are more common, and less common, ways.

Sometimes, loss doesn’t involve denial.

A death, a divorce, or similar, has been long anticipated.

Likewise for anger; it’s been wrestled with

And exhausted,

Before the loss.

Likewise for bargaining.

Depression? More common, and more normal,

Even before acceptance, which may never fully come for some.

Sometimes, they overlap.

Emotions, after all, aren’t discrete.

Sometimes, one emotion is experienced

Two or more times, even if others aren’t.

And maybe, just maybe

A little DABDA will do ya,

For things besides loss.

Like depression, even if it’s a “D” itself.

Or anxiety.

Don’t we deny our own emotions at times,

Or longer moods,

Or more complex psychological states?

Of course, especially if there’s reason for us to do that.

Don’t we get angry at being depressed,

Or frustrated at being anxious?

Yes.

Unfortunately, bargaining aside,

Depression or anger don’t fully disappear.

A little DABDA

A little DABDA will do ya,

Or so, the grieving are told.

But there’s no right way, or wrong way, to mourn

Even if there are more common, and less common, ways.

Sometimes, loss doesn’t involve denial.

A death, a divorce, or similar, has been long anticipated.

Likewise for anger; it’s been wrestled with

And exhausted,

Before the loss.

Likewise for bargaining.

Depression? More common, and more normal,

Even before acceptance, which may never fully come for some.

Sometimes, they overlap.

Emotions, after all, aren’t discrete.

Sometimes, one emotion is experienced

Two or more times, even if others aren’t.

And maybe, just maybe

A little DABDA will do ya,

For things besides loss.

Like depression, even if it’s a “D” itself.

Or anxiety.

Don’t we deny our own emotions at times,

Or longer moods,

Or more complex psychological states?

Of course, especially if there’s reason for us to do that.

Don’t we get angry at being depressed,

Or frustrated at being anxious?

Yes.

Unfortunately, bargaining aside,

Depression or anger don’t fully disappear.

Anger .... why do I want to deny it?

I didn't get a job I was hoping to get.

And, here's why, if I try to put numbers on it.

Overall, my estimate is that is was about 40 percent no "fault" anywhere, 40 percent age discrimination, even if primarily unintentional or subconscious, and 20 percent bad interviewing. I felt a good rapport with my interviewer. But, as noted, "social media" is at the top 1/4 of the first page of my resume. And, I was never asked detailed questions about social media; in fact, I don't recall really being asked at all about it. Some, something, somehow, is kind of rotten in the state of Austin. 

And, yet, I'm trying to defend an interviewer who seemed like a "good guy," while the numbers say that it was more than 50 percent his fault that I didn't get the job. 

And, I want to say that I was shown courtesies during the interview process. At the same time, I've been shown courtesies during other interview processes that were even more "formulaic," at best.

So, I am not ready to deny my  anger, tamp it down, or mingle it with other emotions to subsume it under "frustration." 

NO, I'm angry.

I think I was somewhat mistreated in a job interview. I think I was likely the best candidate for the position. And, I wasn't given the full opportunity to show that, in my opinion.

And, part of the somewhat mistreated, even with the courtesies, feels like I was "used" a bit. I may be at a point in my life in general and recovery life in particular where I'm sensitive, even a bit over-sensitive, to that. But, that's better than not recognizing that I've been used until 6 months, or 6 years, after the fact.

I have a right to be angry about something like that. And I shouldn't hide that from anyone, above all not from myself.

Moving on on sobriety support

I'm planning on not running for re-election to the board of directors of the secular sobriety support organization where I've served the last few years.

And, I'm glad, for several reasons.

First, to the degree that the alpha-beta (and gamma!) theory of human social structure is true (hint: it's not all that true among wolf packs, let alone among humans), I'm a gamma. I'm not a real leader, but I'm not a real follower, either. Give me a basic sense of security and structure, or the possibility thereof, and I'm marching to my own drum.

Second, a recent board change wound up changing larger board dynamics. That said, the one changed board member has decided not to run for a full term. But, that person triggered other dynamics, other dominoes within the board, that don't totally float my boat either.

I've now returned fire in what could be a developing email argument. I won't disclose confidences, and I don't know if I would stand up as well to this person in person, but I don't like bullies, male or female. (And, yes, there are female bullies too, including some who bully men; that's why there's women who commit domestic violence.)

Beyond that, I feel on an island. To get to an annual convention, I'd have to drive 2.5 hours to an airport in a major city, and even then, nonstop flights are becoming more limited, or else drive 30 miles to the nearest airport and take a puddle-jumper to the big city. And even the big city flights have ... well, they've skyrocketed since I last flew anywhere three years ago.

Finally, with job-related stresses (the largest single advertiser at the two small newspapers where I am publisher, a local grocery story, sold out to a chain last year, hitting our bottom line a sharp ding), I don't need the stress of the changing board dynamics. 

That said, I've learned some things about group dynamics. That includes noting that the person I perceive as a bully decided not to run again after I made my announcement.

I've also learned that, per the old phrase that "to make an omelet, you have to break a few eggs," that doesn't mean that you have to break them with undue force, or spatter them.

Ready for new growth at 50

A long-time sobriety friend of mine recently sent me a long email in response to one of mine. She talked about second winds of personal growth, often years after the first one. (She, too, is a "survivor.")

It sounds a bit new agey at times, but she talked about "saying yes" to more things in life as part of "letting go." I could stand some additional inner change, and inner steel. And, I wouldn't mind better outside "scenery" while I'm at it.

Worrying over finances at two struggling small newspapers, in a part of the world where I don't want to live, doesn't help a lot.

And, I know I've got issues inside, still.

Brother No. 3 recently wrote talking about his own anxiety issues over the years. I partially empathize, but partially not. In his own way, he's never taken more responsibility than Brother No. 1, even if not arrogant about it, and even if sinned against as well as sinning.

Speaking of, I cried when one of the survivors was talking during the "Secrets of the Vatican" on PBS tonight. I probably have more tears yet inside of me, somewhere. I'm realizing more and more the depth of problems in my family and, going back generations, while I know a fair amount about multi-generational problems on my dad's side of the family, suspect that not all of my mom's adult problems, or close, can be pinned solely on problems with her relationship to dad.

I would so love to curl up in a ball at times.

Meanwhile, part of me is glad that I stayed by my internal childhood vow to myself, with an intuition of an "old soul," not to marry. I didn't "pass on" anything to kids. Nor to a spouse. Nor did I leave myself open to manipulation by one.