Posts Tagged 'bed'

Hospitalized…

DoodleThe last few weeks I’ve been feeling not very well – physically, that is. Yesterday I collapsed completely while frantically gasping for air – the weird and frightening experience of drowning while above water.

    So right now I’m writing this from a hospital bed, where I landed with what turned out to be a nasty form of pneumonia. I hope and expect to be up and running again in about a week, maybe sooner if the antibiotics will work the way they’re supposed to.

You can be sure that very soon, I’ll post something here about two things.

One: how any common disease can worsen depression, and what we (ill and all) can do to prevent this.

Two: why every room and every object in a hospital always looks like it’s designed to make for an utterly depressing experience.

But at this moment?

Well, all I can add now is some fitting music. First I was thinking of the great 1974 love song The Air That I Breathe by The Hollies. But on second thought I want to save that one for a post about how I managed to quit smoking five weeks ago. Five full weeks without lighting a cigarette! Yes, that happens to be a related matter.

    Hospital music? I am getting a kind of Room Service now… so here is the wonderful band Hey Negrita with their great Room Service song. Even though of course they had a hotel room in mind.

    It’s from their 2008 album You Can Kick. I really like their music: they’re invigorating. To hear more, please try the Hey Negrita site at MySpace.

Hey Negrita


(click the “Play” button – if it does not work, install Flash)


Q&A: Naps

DoodleIn Questions and Answers I try (as a true ExpEx, Expert-by-Experience) to answer some of your questions, as brief as possible.

Question that was asked this morning:

“Will afternoon naps worsen depression?”

Answer: No, not necessarily. Exhaustion caused by a horrible, nightmarish, sleepless night can have a far worse effect on depression. So in that case, getting over your tiredness by taking a brief daytime nap can be a good strategy.

But afternoon naps can worsen your depression if you disregard two important, fairly self-evident conditions:

(1) Don’t let them disrupt your day in a way that makes you feel you lost control. In other words, after a bad night, strategically planning in an afternoon nap is much better than allowing yourself to just drift away into sleep on your TV couch. Use your bed, so the nap will be a well-defined and well-demarcated “activity” within your day scheme.
(2) Don’t sleep for too long. Set an alarm! For nearly all people, somewhere between 30-50 minutes works best for a refreshing daytime nap. Sleep much longer and you may (a) be less alert and less active for the rest of the afternoon, and (b) have more trouble to get some good sleep the following night: meaning the problem will keep repeating itself.

We’re all different of course, but stick to these two basic rules and sometimes an afternoon nap can work well – at least for myself and for most other depressed people that I happen to know.


The Counting Strategy

Doodle

Counting strategy? Yes. When depression threatens to take hold of you, counting things can be a really effective strategy. But before I get to that, let's pay tribute to Count Count.

Count Count    Many of us will recognize the Count from his many guest appearances in the funny and educational Sesame Street children’s TV series, where he helps our little ones to master the fine art of counting. Despite his Dracula looks, the Count comes across as a well-meaning and helpful character. Young children love him. He looks just scary enough to be fascinating.

    Only a few insiders know that his full name is Dr. Sigmund von Count, and that in daily life he works as a renowned psychiatrist in Austria. Depressed patients flock to his offices at the Sesammerstraße in Vienna, where on his couch they can benefit from the Count Therapy that was first developed by him in the 1970s. His therapy is not an analytic but a behavioral one that is entirely based on… counting.

Counting BatsIn Sesame Street, he just plays the role of a slightly autistic and therefore pleasantly predictable person who is a compulsive counter. The Count always has this urge to count everything: counting will keep him happy. He goes to extremes I wouldn’t recommend actually, even trying to count his own feelings: see this great YouTube video clip.

Now my own contribution (with thanks to the Count).

    Depression often puts us on autopilot. Meaning that we get stuck in a hazy kind of cycle where both actions and thoughts are not consciously under our control anymore, where everything just seem to happen to us in an automatic, inevitable way.

Meditation    The latest therapeutic trend here is Mindfulness training. This will teach you how to switch off that depressing autopilot. Using techniques borrowed from Buddhist meditation practice (applied here in a non-religious way) it can make us more aware of our own body and mind again. It can help to regain the direct intensity of basic bodily sensations, and to clear away the mess in your head.

    But… although learning to actually meditate in this Mindfulness way may help some of us, this kind of thing can be just a bridge too far for others. So what I want to show here, is how simple counting can serve as a poor man’s alternative to meditation. An alternative that may be crude, but sometimes will work.

    It is easy to fall into the trap of an autopilot effect, the loss of active control. Sometimes the cause is not depression itself, but simply forgetting to properly shift your focus between different activities. A classic case: that coffee mug next to your computer screen. You’re staring at this great site, pick up the mug to take another gulp, and only then you notice it’s empty. You had already drank it all without noticing, in a barely conscious, not-concentrated way.

    So how to make drinking your coffee – tasting it, swallowing it – a conscious experience again? I bet you don’t even know how many gulps it takes to empty your mug. Now try counting them. This may be less easy than you thought: your coffee-drinking movements may have degenerated into such a mechanical habit that before you know, your autopilot takes over and you forget keeping count.

Focused On The CoffeeBut eventually, you will make it all the way from a full mug to the bottom: counting. And this forces you to better concentrate on your coffee-drinking activity. In fact because you have to count them, you’ll now better (more intensely) taste each gulp of coffee. You’re now back to drinking your coffee in a conscious way. Instead of your autopilot, you are now the master of this activity again. I admit the woman in this picture is overdoing it, but you got my point.

    As a second important effect, this new way of drinking coffee will help to clear your mind a little: at least for a few minutes, you’ll be focused more on every swallow, than on the depression occupying your mind. In this respect, even the hottest coffee can now be refreshing!

    Case two, one that most of us know very well. You’re tired. Maybe exhausted after a terrible day. You go to bed, pull up the blankets and switch off the light. Under cover of the night’s darkness, now suddenly the full weight of your depression drops down on you. Waves of desperation and anxiety begin to keep you awake. Restless, you move from your left to your right side, and back again. Your anxiety begins to feel like panic. What to do? Get up to find a sleeping pill?

Breathing In Bed    Instead of getting up, try counting your breaths, each time you inhale. Think of a goal (making 200 or so) and start counting. Of course you don’t need to count aloud. I can predict right now that the nasty depression beast in your brain will not like this. The beast will tell you to give up this ridiculous nonsense, will try to interfere and distract, will try to force its own negative thoughts onto you. But do go on. Keep stubbornly counting, every single intake of air. 63… 64… 65… Yes, the beast will protest this is boring and dull. Still, keep going.

    After a few minutes, you’ll already notice how this simple act of counting makes your breathing rhythm much more relaxed and regular. You’re now focusing on your breathing, and less on your depressed thoughts. By the time you actually make the goal you set for yourself (those 200) without missing a breath, you’ll not just feel some satisfaction for having made it. More important, you’ll find that your panic and anxiety have been reduced: that by breathing more evenly you’ve also become more calm yourself.

    At this point your depression beast may perhaps try to make a new onslaught. Well, why not begin a new run of counting your breaths? When you go on counting a little longer, this may even calm down you so much that next morning you’ll realize you’ve drifted away into sleep while counting your breaths. Without taking that numbing pill.

    The counting strategy can work in nearly all situations. Just focus on some repetitive element (gulps, breaths, the swipes you are making with your vacuum cleaner, whatever) and start counting them. This really can help in, forgive me the pun, countless cases. You can easily think this up for yourself, and easily put it into practice. Just one more example:

Steps CounterYou know walking is good for you, so you’re taking a lone walk. On a street, a country road, a forest trail, a beach. But while walking, you may happen to gradually lose your focus on yourself and your environment. You may start brooding. Negative thoughts and feelings begin to encroach on you, depression taking over while you keep walking on in an ever more mechanical way. This autopilot thing, you know… Feeling more and more depressed, you may even start asking yourself: why am I doing this? Why am I still walking here? What’s the point of all this? Meanwhile, you forget where you are.

    This is the right moment to remember the counting strategy. Identify some faraway object – a pole, a house, a hilltop, a tree, a bend in the road, a dune. Simply start counting your steps and keep doing it, without missing a step, until you’ve reached your goal. I can assure you: often this works very well. Soon, you’ll be less occupied by the depressing thoughts that had begun to cycle around aimlessly through your mind, and much better focused on the actual experience of walking again.

    To jump to a conclusion: in many different situations we can really use counting as an improvised, viable antidepression strategy. If you’ve never given this a try, you really should.


 tip: Whatever you are trying to do, you can always just start simply counting some physical, repetitive element. Often, this can work as a primitive form of meditation.
    Counting can help you to clear obsessive thoughts from your mind, and to refocus on what you’re actually doing.


 

Stuck…

Doodle Mood Meter

 
 
Yes… recognize something here?

How To Get Up

(a Sam Gross cartoon)    


 tip: just do it. Now!


 

Taming Sleep

Doodle Mood Meter

In 1621, in the first comprehensive book ever written about depression, Robert Burton advised his fellow-sufferers to “Sleep a little more than ordinary.” He did not leave it at this and also discussed ways and medicines to overcome insomnia, what to do when suddenly awaking from ghastly nightmares, and more. But he did not give the one advice that so many people will glibly give you today: try sleeping at night only, not in the daytime. Maybe he already knew from his own experience that such an advice would be too simple – that in the midst of a deep depression, it might even be off the mark.

    It has always surprised me how even the well-trained professional staff in modern psychiatric hospitals often tries to keep all depression patients active and awake all afternoon, in the illusion this might help everyone to sleep better at night. I think they are confusing a few things. Of course adhering to normal, customary sleep timing would theoretically be nice and a good thing to do. But for very depressed people this should not become a goal by itself: then it might even make matters worse.

BedDiagnostic handbooks (think of the DSM-IV) acknowledge that individual depression patients may actually sleep either much more, or much less than the healthy adults’ average 7-8 daily hours. This divergence indicates that the actual number of hours we sleep is not the main issue here. The real question is whether we get a normal night of sound sleep, and if we don’t get it, whether we should compensate for this.

    One of several reasons why deep depression can be so exhausting, is that the depression-treadmill within our head may (a) interrupt our sleep more often, and (b) make it more difficult to fall asleep again afterwards. In other words, depression tends to fragment our total sleep time into smaller, more fitful blocks of sleep. Because such smaller blocks of sleep are overall less effective than one normal uninterrupted block of sleep, it might make sense to put in a few extra hours. This is what Burton meant 400 years ago with his advice “Sleep a little more than ordinary.”

    I think the remarkable divergence in total sleep time for depression patients can be partly explained by the fact that some patients bravely try to fight their impulses and to stay awake all day long (so without compensating for their less effective sleep at night) while other patients follow their impulses and do take extra daytime naps. And I agree with Burton that this second option is probably the better one. For failing to compensate for one’s loss of sleep quality may aggravate exhaustion, which in turn will almost certainly worsen one’s depression. So maybe for some depression patients, the staff people in psychiatric wards ought to encourage taking an afternoon nap, instead of discouraging it.

Fallen Asleep    However, some reasonable structuring of one’s moments of sleep might make sense. This implies marking some kind of boundary, a noticeable demarcation line between being awake and being asleep. During my own deep depression in the past weeks, I sometimes failed to draw such a clear line. As a result, I would for example slowly slip away into an unintended doze while sitting on the couch watching TV – waking up again in front of the same TV two hours later.

    If you allow this kind of thing to happen, it will add to your feeling of having lost all control over your own day – afterwards, in your memory, such a day may feel even more fuzzy, depressing and pointless than it already felt at the start. Rather than feeling refreshed by your unintended nap, you will easily start reproaching yourself for your lack of self-discipline, even though you actually did need some extra sleep.

    The “clear demarcation line” I mentioned is not difficult to achieve. When halfway through the day you feel a strong physical urge to sleep, do decide for a brief intentional sleeping pause instead of letting a blurry half-intended nap sneak in and take over your day. Meaning (a) do not fall asleep somewhere in your work space or living room, but take some sleep in the one proper place for sleeping: your bed. And (b) do set an alarm, so you won’t wake up only to realize that you have slept away half the day. Even when you feel very depressed and very exhausted, a controlled nap of one or at most one-and-a-half hour may be enough to help you face the rest of the day more actively.

    There is a lot more to say about sleep in relation to depression. I will certainly get back to Burton’s insomnia tips and to the problem of having nightmares. But for the moment I want to leave it at this. For myself, one thing is obvious:


 tip: When you feel exhausted by the usual combination of a bad depression and bad nights, do not ignore those signals of your body. Do allow yourself some extra sleep when you feel that you need it.
    Just separate that nap clearly from the rest of your day, by proper location (bed) and proper duration (alarm clock). Such a controlled nap should not impair your self-respect and may help you to better control the rest of your day.


 

Isolation 1: Broken Filtering

This is a good time for some posts about isolation, one of the core elements of depression. I see a very fitting metaphor here, because since about four days I’ve been physically isolated as well. December snow has turned into January water. The nearby river has swollen to the highest level since years. The flood has drowned the fields where herds of wild horses and cattle used to roam. Along with the fields, our only road to town has gone. Below is a photo I shot in heavy rain yesterday, at the point where the road goes down into a lake too wide and deep for anything but a boat. For the time being, we (the roughly 50 to 100 people who live at this spot) are stuck on a small island.

    As long as I have food in my fridge, I don’t really mind: I am still very depressed, meaning it doesn’t make that much of a difference. You might even say this flood provides me with another welcome excuse to cancel all my appointments.

    Why is it that in a deep depression we tend to isolate ourselves, canceling appointments, evading neighbors, sometimes not even answering the phone? This behavior looks unwise: we all do know very well that such self-isolation may only worsen feelings of loneliness and depression. Still, when deeply down, I myself tend to give in to a strong urge to hide like a clam in its shell: crawling in my bed, preferably even with a blanket over my head. During episodes of serious depression, for days on end I simply won’t manage to open my door and take one single step into the outside world. When yesterday I walked to the end of the road to take that watery picture, those were my first steps outside since almost a week.

    I think there are at least three main explanations for this self-isolation tendency. The first reason is trying to avoid the over-stimulation that results from malfunctioning filters. People (even some experts) sometimes suggest that depression involves filtering out most impressions from the outside world: a strong filtering that produces the kind of numbness commonly associated with depression. Sometimes this is indeed what happens, but people do not always realize that the opposite may happen as well.

    In normal life, there always is some balanced filtering going on in our mind: everyone needs this. It enables us to function efficiently, as we should. Too little filtering of external events may be just as problematic as too much filtering. In a depression, filtering is not simply too strong or too weak: maybe we should rather say that our mind’s filtering of the outside world becomes unbalanced. Sometimes there can be far too much filtering, which leaves you locked up inside the dark depression cave of your own mind. But often there may also be too little filtering, leaving you with an over-sensitivity that can make mere existence unbearable: every slight sound becomes a brutal pain, every glimpse of light is blinding, every soft touch is shattering.

    I think that when we are at the bottom of a depression, a lot of typical “isolating behavior” might be explained as an understandable reaction to such over-sensitiveness: putting up some kind of defensive shield, no matter what, in order to protect ourself against a chaotic, painful, endangering flood of unfiltered and therefore unmanageable impressions. I think that defending yourself in that way, even if it means initially hiding yourself under a blanket in a bedroom with less noise and light, is not necessarily a bad reaction. After all, when water is squirting into your kitchen from a burst pipe, it’s not a bad first reaction to shut down the main valve.

    But such a reaction is of course not adequate. Just like you still need to repair the leak in that burst water pipe, you will need to fix or at least tame that broken filtering engine in your head. How? In my own experience, the answer here is a simple-sounding but sometimes hard-to-realize one-word solution: concentration. When overwhelmed and knocked out by a massive, fearful, unfiltered stream of sensations, try to focus on just one of them: this will help you to temporarily forget the rest and to regain some control. In my bed in such a situation, I will for example try to focus entirely on the rhythm and feeling of my own breathing. This is in fact one of the meditation-related “mindfulness” strategies, but it doesn’t really require special training. Just a little bit of leftover willpower.

    Or I try to create one single diverting sensation to focus on, by grabbing a bedside book and trying to read a random page very slooowly and precisely, first finding my way in the jumble of characters (those spidery black shapes on a rough-feeling yellowish paper background) and recognizing them, then reading and understanding word-by-word, and finally trying to carefully understand the full meaning of one complete sentence before starting all over again with the next one. With some luck, after a while you’ll find yourself sitting and reading just like a normal person – meaning the leak in your filtering mechanism has been fixed, more or less: complete self-isolation has become less urgent now.

    Apart from Broken Filtering, there are two other main factors that in a depression contribute to the tendency to isolate oneself: Exhaustion and Shame. I think each of them deserves a separate post: especially Shame, because people sometimes contend that a severe depression is characterized by loosing all feelings of shame – which in my view is utter nonsense: shame does not disappear with a depression, it just may change and shift, making it an even larger problem instead of a lesser one. But this is enough for now.


 tip: When an unfiltered, overwhelming, too-strong flood of sensations threatens to knock you out completely, isolating yourself is an understandable first reaction. But it is no long-term solution. Instead, try to focus entirely on just one little thing in that flood.


 


▼ Search Me ...

Today In History:

Arthur Conan DoyleMay 22, 1859 –
Birth date of Arthur Conan Doyle, the Scottish physician and writer who in his popular stories (from 1887 to 1927) created the best known detective ever: the sharply observing and deducing Sherlock Holmes.
   Doyle profiled Sherlock Holmes as an obvious bipolar character, with both manic-active and depressed-lethargic episodes. In the stories, Holmes keeps trying to overcome his periodic depressions by playing the violin (sometimes), smoking (frequently) and using cocaine (as a real addict).
   Portrayed in this way, Doyle's Sherlock Holmes probably was the first popular fiction character suffering from frequent depressions.

If you like to get email notifications about new posts, please enter your email address:

Find Depression News:

For the very latest online news items about depression, try the daily listings at
Topix

       
       

Listed at:

Technorati

OnTopList

BlogCatalog

Health Blogs

Blogarama - The Blog Directory

Alltop, all the top stories

Save as PDF File:

Do you want this webpage in one single file that you can easily save or forward to someone?
Click here to download this page as a PDF file. Conversion will take a few seconds.
 


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 68 other followers