This Dream Brought to You By...

Being on medication does some strange things to you. One of the biggest problems I had while depressed was poor sleep. Most nights I got very little sleep. I'd usually stay up late then wake up early. On the nights I did go to bed early, it took me anywhere from and hour to 3 hours to fall asleep with constant tossing and turning. While alseep, I would wake up about every hour. It would take me a while to fall back asleep. And I would always wake up about an hour before I needed to. Also, no matter how much I slept, I was always exhausted. I always felt like I needed a mid afternoon nap. When I first took my medication, I was restless at bed time. I couldn't fall asleep. Didn't she tell me I would sleep better? I reduced my medication from 40 to 20 mg which helped. Now I fall asleep almost immediately, and roughly get 7 hours a night. Oh but what an interesting 7 hours. I've noticed that my dreams have become more vivid. I can remember parts of my dreams now. And the parts I remember give me the illusion that they happened in real life. They feel so real that I actually think they happened. Whenever I see something in real life that was changed in my dream I experience a bit of shock. It takes me a second to realize that it was a dream. And whenever I think back about a dream, they feel like actual memories, rather than just ghosts of an event. I don't mind it. In fact I enjoy it. I love being able to fully immerse into a dreamworld and escape the physical world for 7 hours. I'm only worried that I'll have a terrifying nightmare. Even though I'm getting the best sleep I've had in a long time, it's not with out it's oddities.

Title and Quote

It took me some time to decide what to call this blog. Metnal is the ninth level in the Mayan underworld described as a place of eternal darkness and cold. I envision my depression as being on a fragile ledge of a pit cave that drops to oblivion and so far down that there is no light. Recovering from depression is a long hard upward struggle where the rock under my hand can break off at anytime plummeting me down.

The quote is the opening to Dante's Inferno. The classic poem telling the story of a man's journey through hell to reach paradise. The poem opens with the narrator lost in a dark forest with the path to the sun blocked. To reach it he conquers fear and grows a stronger person.

The title and the quote set the mood I'm aiming for. They are a symbolic representation for this period of my life. Recovering from depression is a struggle that can take months or years. There is a danger of falling into remission. I honestly think that I will not fully recover from depression. It's been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, it will always be there. I do worry that I will have a remission, but for now I will scale the wall.

About Ascending Metnal

I am a 23 year old woman attending university in Texas. My major is biology, though I am not sure what I will do for my career. Like many people in my age group I feel a constant pressure to preform perfectly. To excel in my school work as well as maintain a relationship and have time to enjoy myself. On top of this I had a poor childhood. Ever since my parents separated I have had a hard time dealing with stressful situations. I was always called sensitive. No doubt my family took advantage f it. Out of all the people in my family I never retorted the abuse. When I was yelled at, called names, or hit all I did was cry as silently as I could. Whenever I did try to defend myself, responding in like, it got worse. I was the only one not allowed to use violence. I became progressively numb. Though I participated in activities in highschool there was no enjoyment. As I got older the world came at me faster, harder. I was able to handle it, but eventually it brought me to my knees. I knew there was something wrong with me for years but I never sought help. Until recently.

This blog is a therapeutic tool. To share my story about depression, how I got it, and how I will overcome it.

First Grip

Four weeks ago I made the decision to speak to the nurse practitioner at my school's health center about depression. I told her about how I feel pessimistic, hopeless, and how I felt like a dark cloud followed me everywhere I went. I told her about my violent childhood. About my broken family. And about how I cannot remember being happy for any prolonged period of time. I also take no pleasure in any activity no matter how much fun it was. Strong feelings to commit suicide were gone. But I still fantasized about my death. I didn't look upon death with fear, but as a sweet relief from a merciless life. If I was to die, I didn't mind. She diagnosed me with Depression and prescribed me 20mg of Prozac a day for a month and to see her again before I run out. She encouraged me to seek counseling when I begin to feel better. I dismissed counseling because I had tried it before and it didn't help me for long. But now that I have been feeling better since on the medication I'm going to speak to a therapist and resolve some family issues. This blog will be a record of my recovery.