Unmasked

I'm afraid I cursed myself back in March.

How so?  Well, discouraged by the shutdown of everything under the sun, I flippantly made the comment that I would be OK with everyone having to wear masks if they would just let us reopen.

Famous last words.

Let me give an update, and then I'll explain.  I know I haven't posted in awhile, and the reason for that is simple.  Besides the fact that social media and the news and the world in general was turning into a minefield for me, I was slammed with depression and nearly pulled under.  It wasn't pretty.  Obviously I've been here before, but not for a long, long time.  I have a depression self-evaluation that I take periodically to gauge how bad things are, and in early July I reached a score higher than I've had since the miscarriage I experienced the year before K was born.  I was on the borderline of severe depression-- the point where I consider I need outside help.  I never got actively suicidal, though I can remember chanting to myself on at least two occasions the mantra "suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem."  (By the way, never underestimate the power of telling yourself something simple like that over and over.)

I was on the verge of drowning.  My world has been constricted for quite awhile, which has a major effect on the depression.  The gym is closed again, making it difficult to get the exercise I need, since cardio is my primary anti-depression med (and I can't run much at all anymore because of my knees).  I barely socialize and I don't go anywhere.  Obviously, I have a ton of company right now.  The corona mess has disrupted nearly everything.  But I didn't quite expect the additional torture my psyche would take because of the masks.  I should have predicted it, though.  

Most people have a "thing," an irrational fear-- for some of us it isn't a big deal and the fear can be avoided or it isn't that major.  For others it can be incapacitating-- like a fear of flying so severe that you can't ever get on a plane.  Mine is claustrophobia.  A common one, but a strong one.  I can barely tolerate elevators without panicking, and I will ALWAYS take the stairs if it's an option.  (Good exercise, anyway, right?)  Masks also activate the claustrophobic panic.  I actually learned this during my very first labor and delivery.  It was a rough one, especially toward the end, and I remember my doctor was concerned that we were going to end up in an emergency c-section because I was in such distress and having such trouble pushing M out.  One of the things he ordered was oxygen-- though I don't remember exactly what the problem was (like I said, I was in major distress).  But when they put the oxygen mask on my face I went crazy.  Like thrashing, fighting crazy.  I felt like I was suffocating.  Obviously I wasn't-- it was an oxygen mask, duh.  But I can tell you psychologically I was one hundred percent positive I couldn't breathe.  They had to take it off, because my panic was making the situation worse instead of better.  I've only survived the oxygen masks during my various surgeries because I prayed for calm, forced myself to take a few deep breaths, and then the anesthesia knocked me out before I could panic.

But surely a little cloth mask or a surgical mask would be different, right?  It's not a big, bulky thing like an oxygen mask.

No.  I panic.  For months I got around it by just not wearing one, despite the social pressure.  When local mask ordinances started to take effect, I just quit going places.  On the rare occasion I had to go somewhere and couldn't avoid it-- like the home improvement store, I wore the thinnest fabric mask Terence could find for me and spent every minute in the store willing myself not to panic.  No browsing, no debating.  In fact, I used the app the find the location of everything I needed so I could head straight to it and then get out.  There was one remaining Walmart where the ordinance was not in effect, where masks were only recommended, not required, and I did all my shopping there, despite the increasing social pressure.  (Have you seen the accusations on social media about selfish, heartless people who won't wear masks?  Yeah.  Let me tell you, for an anxious, depressed woman, those are like neon attack signs.)

Last week, my one remaining Walmart announced it would be requiring masks.  There are some ways around this-- I could order groceries for pickup, which Terence did not want to do, not least because he wants to make the substitution decisions if something is out.  Or Terence volunteered to go by himself, with a detailed list by me.  I decided to suck it up and go-- after all, if M has to wear a mask for her twelve hour shifts in an assembly line (talk about brutal!!) surely I can make it through a shopping trip.

Well, my shopping trip included a complete breakdown twenty minutes in, with panic and tears and Terence having me take the mask off and breathe and try to get calm.   It was miserable.  Probably would have been humiliating too, but luckily we were the only ones in the frozen pizza aisle at the moment.  Once I calmed down enough to put the mask on and keep going, I was so tightly wound and on edge that I literally walked away from an acquaintance who stopped to talk to us.  (So if you happen to see me in the store, don't take it personal if I ignore you.  I'm probably just barely holding myself together.)  In any case, this has made my life constrict even more.  Nowhere to go, without facing psychological torture.  That hasn't helped the depression one whit.

So how am I doing now?  Better, thank goodness.  Not because I am getting out, or because my exercise is working well as an anti-depressant (I am down to just my bike, and I keep getting flat tires).  But because I took two weeks and completely cut myself off from social media, some of the blogs I follow, and all news sites.  HUGE help.  So at least for now, I won't be returning much, for the sake of my own sanity.  I may post on the blog again, for anyone who wants to know how our family is doing.  For now, we are all well-- no corona here-- and Terence has been safe because the anti-police violence has calmed here.  (Fingers crossed it stays that way!)