Don't get too excited, this is nothing to do with the Higgs Boson.
It's just that it reminds me of that stage where they were pretty sure they had the Boson but couldn't quite announce it.
Turns out I was right yesterday. My finely tuned depression detection machine was right. Today I am feeling more miserable than I have for weeks. Not super miserable, but enough that I know I'm depressed, everything seems harder, and wasting time on facebook seems like a depressing vicious cycle instead of a happy goofing off.
The facebook cycle is: must get thing done, don't have enough energy, I'm not good enough, just surf facebook. Oh I'm wasting my time, this is terrible, I'm bad... so repeat cycle.
I had a weird couple of weeks at the start of the year where I was happy and the cycle was: should get stuff done, who cares, what's on facebook, oh should have got stuff done, who cares? And genuinely I didn't feel guilty about it - a very rare feeling for me.
Like I say this is not very miserable on my terms, the pointer at maybe 1 or 2. But it is interesting that I spotted it coming yesterday.
UPDATE: Went to get my daughter from school. Wouldn't normally give her a lift but she was not on top form today (is that a British expression, not being on top form = being a little ill?) Anyway, discovered I'd parked with my lights on and drained the battery. We all walked home and got rather miserable. Later on I can go and get the car when I have scored a jump lead and a friend to drive there.
But two things upset me. One is that I just couldn't cope with the situation well and calmly as I should have done. The second is that my decision making was way off. A cold walk home for half an hour with two under-the-weather kids was a mistake (could have called a breakdown service or a friend or just got a taxi home). And I left the car unlocked in case the electric doors couldn't open, realising when nearly home my car has a backup key entry so I could have locked it after all.
Tuesday, 12 February 2013
To medicate or not to medicate
I woke up this morning to find the following exchange waiting for me on twitter:
@LeSabot @Sheeeela This is a concern I've heard many researchers express. @michiexile, you want to help field this one?
I started medicating early January. I was worried when I started whether medicating would remain sensible, what with my intense reliance on my brain and my creativity for my work, exactly like LeSabot here worries.
For me, with a history of manic-spectrum issues in addition to my depression, there is the additional worry that SSRIs may actually trigger manias if you are unlucky enough.
So I went into medication with a pretty vigilant mind. On the lookout for Things That Might Change Me. I figured that in the worst case scenario — drugs are actively counter-productive — it's worth losing, say, 3-4 months to find out whether they could have worked or not. And the best case scenario removes so much sadness, anguish, and problems that investing in this test is worthwhile doing.
I have been at it for a bit over a month now, and finally the side-effects are starting to wane. First month on meds was kinda shitty — I still had bad moods, but I ended up having a very flat, apathetic approach to both my moods and everything else. I have not had any significant mania-spectrum events.
And what's most likely important to this discussion: so far, about a month into daily medication with fluoxetin, I have not noticed any change in my intellectual prowess. I pushed out two papers since medication started — one SIGGRAPH submission (which honestly was pretty punishing in stress levels and workloads) and one arXiv preprint — and more than anything, the medication frees up parts of my brain that were working on keeping my emotions in check.
I'm not sure whether I end up more productive now. But at the very least, I can say with confidence, SSRIs have certainly not made me less productive.
I started medicating early January. I was worried when I started whether medicating would remain sensible, what with my intense reliance on my brain and my creativity for my work, exactly like LeSabot here worries.
For me, with a history of manic-spectrum issues in addition to my depression, there is the additional worry that SSRIs may actually trigger manias if you are unlucky enough.
So I went into medication with a pretty vigilant mind. On the lookout for Things That Might Change Me. I figured that in the worst case scenario — drugs are actively counter-productive — it's worth losing, say, 3-4 months to find out whether they could have worked or not. And the best case scenario removes so much sadness, anguish, and problems that investing in this test is worthwhile doing.
I have been at it for a bit over a month now, and finally the side-effects are starting to wane. First month on meds was kinda shitty — I still had bad moods, but I ended up having a very flat, apathetic approach to both my moods and everything else. I have not had any significant mania-spectrum events.
And what's most likely important to this discussion: so far, about a month into daily medication with fluoxetin, I have not noticed any change in my intellectual prowess. I pushed out two papers since medication started — one SIGGRAPH submission (which honestly was pretty punishing in stress levels and workloads) and one arXiv preprint — and more than anything, the medication frees up parts of my brain that were working on keeping my emotions in check.
I'm not sure whether I end up more productive now. But at the very least, I can say with confidence, SSRIs have certainly not made me less productive.
Monday, 11 February 2013
More Finely Tuned Depression Detection Machine
This year - and I suspect not coincidentally following founding Depressed Academics with Mikael - I have been pretty happy.
I can't see this corresponds with an increase in smarts or concentration or ability to get things done. But it does seem to correlate with an increased level of confidence. Things I would normally be scared to try seem easier to try at least, and if they don't work out, so what?
I can't see this corresponds with an increase in smarts or concentration or ability to get things done. But it does seem to correlate with an increased level of confidence. Things I would normally be scared to try seem easier to try at least, and if they don't work out, so what?
One of those things is the most ambitious project of my academic career. It is - I'm not joking about this - meant to be what I'm remembered for and to change the field (of Computer Science). Not quite ready to tell you what it is yet, sorry!
But suddenly I find myself thinking "I can't do this, I'm not the right person, it doesn't matter anyway", and thinking how convenient and simple life will be if I just don't bother.
But suddenly I find myself thinking "I can't do this, I'm not the right person, it doesn't matter anyway", and thinking how convenient and simple life will be if I just don't bother.
I don't really believe that, but even though I'm still pretty happy, it does seem to indicate my brain is becoming a more finely tuned machine to detect depression. Not even knowing I had depression till it was diagnosed a few years ago, and now I can detect it just like that!
Sunday, 10 February 2013
Vignette: Quick as a flash…
Quick as a flash it comes.
I'm worthless. The things I do are bad.
But Susanne just told me how good she thinks I cook.
It'll be bad. We won't like it. I'll have spoilt an entire huge pot of food.
She praised it. What am I on about?
And I'm ugly. I'll just curl up here and hope nobody sees me.
Y'know, I am curled up in her lap. And she's kissing me.
I just want to be alone.
She's offering me food. Drinks. Candy. Kisses. Kisses are welcome. Even now.
I'm not paying attention to our movie. I'm a bad husband. I'm inattentive.
I am lying to myself.
Quick as a flash it goes. I cried a bit. I whined a bit about how I especially wanted to be good and stable tonight. And all of a sudden, it is as if nothing had happened. My face is streaked with tears, but that's just moisture by now.
I'm worthless. The things I do are bad.
But Susanne just told me how good she thinks I cook.
It'll be bad. We won't like it. I'll have spoilt an entire huge pot of food.
She praised it. What am I on about?
And I'm ugly. I'll just curl up here and hope nobody sees me.
Y'know, I am curled up in her lap. And she's kissing me.
I just want to be alone.
She's offering me food. Drinks. Candy. Kisses. Kisses are welcome. Even now.
I'm not paying attention to our movie. I'm a bad husband. I'm inattentive.
I am lying to myself.
Quick as a flash it goes. I cried a bit. I whined a bit about how I especially wanted to be good and stable tonight. And all of a sudden, it is as if nothing had happened. My face is streaked with tears, but that's just moisture by now.
Talking about depression
I'm Greg and I'm melancholic. All right, depressive. I was first diagnosed in 1978,
in circumstances that I'll maybe relate another time, and was prescribed tri-cyclic antidepressants for about 18 months. I've had attacks on and off ever since, but with markedly decreased frequency and reduced duration.
At the time, I didn't tell anyone. I wasn't ashamed. Rather, I didn't want fuss and I didn't want sympathy. I didn't want people to treat me differently though I'm sure they'd have been uniformly kind and understanding. I just wanted the black moods
to stop and I wanted to feel normal, what ever that was.
I found that three things helped me apart from the green and black pills. First of all, standing in front of a class, trying to explain stuff I knew backwards and didn't
entirely understand why others found hard, forced me to de-centre. Secondly,
exercise, especially long walks, untensed my body and calmed the looping brain.
And third, pursuing non-work projects with other people again took me out of
myself. In particular, I helped write and record a radio play called "Biggles and the
Day Glo Fokker", with a cast of tens, using bodjo reel to reel and cassette equipment, and BBC sound effect LPs. No it was never broadcast...
Very few of my friends and almost none of my colleagues now know I'm depressive. I'm still not ashamed. I just don't think it's relevant.
However, as a student mentor and a UCU member supporter, and in the past as an academic manager, I find myself trying to help lots of people who are in crisis, where reactive or endogenous depression was often at the root or a complicating factor. So the first thing I tell them is about my own experience, and that almost always eases their trusting me and my being able to point them at appropriate help.
in circumstances that I'll maybe relate another time, and was prescribed tri-cyclic antidepressants for about 18 months. I've had attacks on and off ever since, but with markedly decreased frequency and reduced duration.
At the time, I didn't tell anyone. I wasn't ashamed. Rather, I didn't want fuss and I didn't want sympathy. I didn't want people to treat me differently though I'm sure they'd have been uniformly kind and understanding. I just wanted the black moods
to stop and I wanted to feel normal, what ever that was.
I found that three things helped me apart from the green and black pills. First of all, standing in front of a class, trying to explain stuff I knew backwards and didn't
entirely understand why others found hard, forced me to de-centre. Secondly,
exercise, especially long walks, untensed my body and calmed the looping brain.
And third, pursuing non-work projects with other people again took me out of
myself. In particular, I helped write and record a radio play called "Biggles and the
Day Glo Fokker", with a cast of tens, using bodjo reel to reel and cassette equipment, and BBC sound effect LPs. No it was never broadcast...
Very few of my friends and almost none of my colleagues now know I'm depressive. I'm still not ashamed. I just don't think it's relevant.
However, as a student mentor and a UCU member supporter, and in the past as an academic manager, I find myself trying to help lots of people who are in crisis, where reactive or endogenous depression was often at the root or a complicating factor. So the first thing I tell them is about my own experience, and that almost always eases their trusting me and my being able to point them at appropriate help.
Friday, 8 February 2013
Telling your colleagues
Some of my current colleagues know.
Some of my past colleagues know — Ian for instance.
My current HR admins know: they have reimbursed me for my psychiatrist sessions.
I vacillate on whether to tell all my current colleagues; whether to tell my boss. I almost get all the way to “Yes”, and then something happens — something at once small and insignificant and also a warning flag. A nervous comment about an incoming new colleague, outing their minority status at a largish meeting and commenting on their perceivable ‘weirdness’.
And on the one hand, I understand this as what it is: trying to handle something unfamiliar and dealing with a potentially problematic subject from a leadership position. On the other hand, I know several people who would be furious at being outed this way.
I certainly would not want the first thing my new colleagues know about me to be “Mikael is depressed and medicating.”
Maybe fifth.
Not first.
Some of my past colleagues know — Ian for instance.
My current HR admins know: they have reimbursed me for my psychiatrist sessions.
I vacillate on whether to tell all my current colleagues; whether to tell my boss. I almost get all the way to “Yes”, and then something happens — something at once small and insignificant and also a warning flag. A nervous comment about an incoming new colleague, outing their minority status at a largish meeting and commenting on their perceivable ‘weirdness’.
And on the one hand, I understand this as what it is: trying to handle something unfamiliar and dealing with a potentially problematic subject from a leadership position. On the other hand, I know several people who would be furious at being outed this way.
I certainly would not want the first thing my new colleagues know about me to be “Mikael is depressed and medicating.”
Maybe fifth.
Not first.
Saturday, 2 February 2013
Anxiety
What if I won't enjoy our planned afternoon of gaming?
What if I suddenly grow sad and apathetic in the middle of our hosting friends?
We have done really nice things with that wall.
What if my side-effects screw me up, and I won't even care?
What if I cannot pull off my chosen career?
Cannot be a career academic?
Cannot get a permanent position?
What if the research I do is not good enough?
Not interesting enough?
Not published enough?
What if…
What if I suddenly grow sad and apathetic in the middle of our hosting friends?
We have done really nice things with that wall.
What if my side-effects screw me up, and I won't even care?
What if I cannot pull off my chosen career?
Cannot be a career academic?
Cannot get a permanent position?
What if the research I do is not good enough?
Not interesting enough?
Not published enough?
What if…
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