Wellness Plan – Wrapping It Up

I’ve now written several blogs about my Wellness Recovery Action Plan, or WRAP. And it’s time to finish off this series.

The next two sections of the WRAP plan are entitled “When Things are Breaking Down or Getting Much Worse,” and “Crisis Plan.” I’m lumping these together because both point to severe symptoms, and the potential imminence for a relapse of my depression.

According to Wellness Recovery Action Plan (Advocates for Human Potential, Inc., copyright 2018), “sometimes, even when you’ve been making your best efforts to stay well, things can get a lot worse. Some people call this a breakdown, a setback, or a relapse….often your behavior changes so much that other people can tell something is wrong…Taking immediate action can make a difference in the outcome.” In fact, I might be able to avoid the Crisis part of my plan if I can successfully turn this situation around.

Some of my key indicators that things are getting much worse include that I am staying in bed, isolating. I feel anxiety and a heaviness in my chest, an urge to drive fast and recklessly, a desire to smoke e-cigarettes (I’m a non-smoker). I may have increased trouble concentrating, which was also a red flag in my Early Warning Signs.  But in this case, it would be worse. I’d be feeling like a burden to everyone around me. I may have the desire to self-injure or have suicidal thoughts (called suicide ideation – thoughts, but not a plan), and I’d find myself unable to pray. I’d dread the future and ruminate on the past. I’d have flat affect – expressing very little emotion.

So what do I do if things get much worse? First thing – tell someone! My husband, sister, or close friend. Call my therapist and psych doc right away. Reduce caffeine – drink herbal tea instead of coffee – and sit in my glider, which I find very calming. I would try to Face Time my old therapist – he can often “talk me down.” I think I’d call in my second round of support – three other close friends who I know love me and would offer me encouragement and prayer. Perhaps, if these steps work, a relapse would not occur.

The Crisis Plan portion of the WRAP is designed to make it as easy as possible for people to help me, because if I am in a depression crisis, I might not be able to make my own decisions. It outlines who I want to help me – by name – and exactly what I want them to do for me. Things like get me to the hospital emergency room, sit with me, hold my hand. And what I don’t want done, like what medicines I can’t take. It even outlines my daytime and household responsibilities and who will do them, like care for the pets and pay my bills and contact and keep my prayer team updated.

After the crisis has passed, the Post-Crisis Plan is implemented. It’s a brief section of the WRAP where I identify things that worked in my WRAP Plan, and things that need to change. Perhaps there are people I need to thank for their help in my crisis; perhaps there are apologies or amends I need to make as a result of things I said or did during my crisis.  This final portion of the WRAP allows me to step back into the responsibilities of my daily life, slowly, as I begin to return to my normal level of wellness. This may take time – crisis recovery is not immediate, and I will need to be patient with myself. But this is a good time to evaluate and make changes to my WRAP, as I can see what worked and what didn’t. Because post-crisis can be very introspective, it’s a good time to modify my WRAP to include stressors or early warning signs that I may have missed before. I can add to the Crisis portion of my plan while it’s still fresh in my memory – what additions do I need to make so that, heaven forbid, things go more smoothly the next time?

Ultimately, the goal of the WRAP is to help me avoid a depression crisis – to identify those markers ahead of time to avert another hospitalization or emotional break down. Because this plan is so thorough, I may be able to stay in remission for the rest of my life.

New Carpet, and Books

We’re getting new carpeting today. In the master bedroom and sitting room.

The previous owner must have kept her dog in the master, because there’s pet “damage.” You can smell a whiff of it when it’s humid outside, but most of the time it’s not a problem. Still, no amount of cleaning has gotten rid of it, so even though we really like the carpeting in there, it’s gotta go.

The other room – the sitting room – we call it the Beach Room because we’ve decorated it with our shells and pictures from our time in Florida – used to be our second guest bedroom. But when we got a new couch for the living room last year, we sold the bedroom furniture and put the old couch in the room. We sit in there and listen to music and read. It’s cozy, comfortable. But the carpet is cheetah.

Yep. Cheetah carpeting. Which doesn’t go with any of our beach decor! So it’s gotta go.

Cheetah 🐆 carpet!

This same cheetah carpet is in our massive master bedroom closet, along with a chandelier. In there, it’s so tacky that it’s adorable, and we love it!

So it stays in the closet but is replaced in the sitting room.

Yesterday, I removed all my books from the bookshelves so the carpet layers can move the furniture. It was a good way to pull out books to donate, and organize the ones I want to keep.

I’ve got a little library of sorts – books on depression, grief, and prayer seem to be the main topics. I want to build this collection – particularly the depression-themed books, as topics for my writings.

I also moved all my journals – I have almost 20 completed notebooks! I began faithfully writing – almost daily, sometimes several times per day – when depression started in 2008. I’m trying to figure out how to organize the content of them, so I can use them as resources in my writing.

Once the carpet is laid and the furniture moved back, I’ve decided to arrange the bookshelves a little differently. I have many books that I own and want to read. I need to quit downloading to my Kindle and read what I already own! I plan to put all those “to-be-read” books on one shelf and work my way through them. Or sort and donate, which might be a better way to go.

The carpet layers just called – they’ll be here soon!

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Bye-bye cheetah! Finished product:

Not much to say

“They” say that women use 30,000 words in a day, while men use only 10,000. This sets up quite a difference of communication patterns between the sexes!

I used to talk a lot. It was an ongoing joke that the moment my husband shut off the lamp for sleep, I’d want to talk, tell him about my day, ask deep philosophical questions. Sometimes, he’d even turn the light back on in hopes I’d wind down!

But since my experiences with depression, I am much more quiet. I’m content to listen to conversations going on around me, and don’t feel the need to chime in at every opportunity. I’m happy to observe – I don’t need to contribute every thought I have.

It’s been a noticeable change. Several friends – especially those I don’t see regularly – will ask me if I’m ok. They’ve commented that I seem so quiet. Even my husband will ask me if everything is alright if I don’t say anything for a while.

I think the change is due to several factors:

Firstly, I think I’m a better listener than I used to be. I’m content to hear about others’ successes and troubles. I’m much quicker to pick up on subtext – those behind-the-scene  feelings. My therapist once told me that I’d find myself able to spot depression in others, since I’ve been through it myself. I think this is true – I sense a person’s unspoken sadness or struggle. So I find myself listening instead of talking.

Secondly, I simply have less to say. There’s just not much going on in my day-to-day to share. My hours are pretty quiet, and often silent. If I have lots of thoughts, I try to write them in my journal, so I don’t seem to have the need to verbally share like I used to.

Lastly, I’m more content with silence. That’s a benefit I gained from depression – being still. I pray, I journal, I don’t need noise to fill every moment. In fact, I usually look forward to my down-time, the peace that comes with silence.

On the Myers-Briggs test, I used to be an extreme Extrovert, which means I get my batteries charged from being around other people as opposed to being alone. But since depression, I’ve moved from the far extreme to closer to the Introvert, where my energy comes from my personal down-time. On the continuum, I’m still an E, but much closer to an I than before. I still need people, connection and community, to recharge my energy, but I’m more content being alone than I used to be.

This past week really tested that observation. My Tuesday small group was cancelled due to weather. I had to cancel my therapy appointment – where I talk most of the hour – due to illness. So my week was much quieter than normal. I still had my students/work, but that’s not socializing or even real conversation. By Friday, I was feeling the silence as loneliness, and I was crying because of it. I felt so alone – way past enjoying the silence. Instead, I was craving that connection and community I mentioned earlier. I journaled pages about feeling lonely. I cried out to God, and reminded myself that He was with me – I wasn’t completely alone. Still, it took me several hours to adjust to a week’s worth of quiet.

Then my husband got home from his business trip, and let me “talk his ear off.” And I felt so much better!