Tag Archive | depression

The Chaos Continues

Almost midnight. My insides are all mixed up, turned upside down on themselves. These past weeks have been as crazy as the ones before. It seems out never slows down these days. The chaos never ends.

Doctors are pretty useless these days. In my case and my daughter’s. I keep trying to get a hold of my psychiatrist, leaving messages and never getting a return call. Maybe I should stop calling at midnight and deal with it during office hours, but I can never remember. Then, a whole slew of doctors still don’t know what’s wrong with my kid and she’s getting worse. I’m lost beyond lost.

The rest of my children seem to think that it’s a good time to act up and get in trouble. One is so sassy that I’ve been getting reports from school saying they’re having major issues there too.

School it’s barely hanging on by a thread. I’m still in two classes, but even that’s proving to be a struggle. I’ve decided to take a break from the English degree for a year while I get my massage therapy licence. It will be nice to make some money while going to school.

All in all, I can safely say I’m not sure how I haven’t lost it yet. I’m close to it, especially these past few days. I can feel the anger building up inside me. When I’m not angry, I’m depressed. Seems I’m always on the verge of tears these days. My thoughts are racing and all I can seem to think is negatively. This is the most wicked mixed episode I’ve had in a long while. I just hope I can keep it together through this…

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Two Down…

WHY CAN”T I WRITE?

I can’t write anything. Not homework. Not my blog. Not my book. Not even a damned text message. I feel like my soul has been sucked right out of me. Five times, I’ve sat down to do serious writing. Five times, all I could do was write about how stressed, upset, and overwhelmed I am. Most of it ended up like gibberish, with me blubbering as I typed away at the keys. This isn’t writers block. This is something much worse.

I had to drop two of my classes due to this crap. Philosophy and Creative Writing. Two classes I REALLY enjoyed. Now, I’m hanging by a thread in my other classes, with my family obligations threatening to snap that thread before my eyes. It’s killing me.

There are two sides to me, it seems. The mothering side who wants to be everything for everyone, conquering all obstacles we come across. Then, there’s the selfish side who wants nothing more than to run and hide from it all, doing nothing more than what my little heart desires.

UGH!

I know what I need to do and I’m doing it, but I still want to hide my head in the sand until this all blows over.

Sometimes I hate being me.

The Girl Who Never Cleaned

It seems my posts are getting further and further apart. I guess I need to start making writing a priority again, but with so much going on, it’s honestly hard to find time to breathe these days.

The eldest is still not walking right. She’s in a wheelchair anytime she’s not at home. Her strength is slowly coming back. I wish I could say the same for mine. Bi-weekly physical therapy, weekly neurologist appointments, and various other appointments fill my time now. When I’m not running, I’m trying to keep up with school, my business, and the house. Needless to say, the house is suffering. There’s a story behind why this last one bothers me so. If you sit a spell, I’ll share the tale with you.

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That was mighty old-fashioned of me, so here’s an old fashioned photo to go with it.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who got married at a young age. This girl had many responsibilities growing up and felt that she had been treated unfairly. This caused her to shirk her adult responsibilities and her house became a huge mess. Her spouse wasn’t much help, often adding more to the mess than he ever helped with, and then blaming her for the state of the home. After all, she was home with two kids under 4 (one of whom was a newborn) all day. Surely she had tons of time and motivation to get things done while he was gone.

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This bodes well for getting housework done, let me tell you.

Over the next year, her house displayed varying levels of cleanliness, but mostly, it looked like an episode of Hoarders gone wrong. Okay, maybe not quite that  bad, but it was sure close. After child number three came along, she fell into a deep depression. As you can imagine, the emotional state was reflected in the appearance in her home. Some days she could barely find the motivation to brush her hair, let alone do the dishes.

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Something tells me this woman was having one of those days. That, or she couldn’t locate a mirror.

Through the years, more and more messes were made and it seemed to the girl that the more she cleaned, the messier it got. No matter how much she plead with those who shared her home, she could not get help doing even the simplest of chores. The girl gave up. Her house was forever a pigsty after that.

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I can safely say my house never got this bad. Thank goodness!

The End

Only it wasn’t. That douche of a spouse left. At first, the house wasn’t any cleaner because the girl felt like a failure. She had made promises and now they had been broken. Not by her, but by him. She felt she had failed her kids and her whole family. She felt she failed herself.

Little by little, her eyes opened. She realized that she hadn’t been in a healthy place for a long time and part of that was because of him. Now that he was gone, she could find herself again, because she didn’t even know who she was anymore. She became happier and as she did, her house got cleaner and cleaner. She realized that having a clean house made her feel better too.

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I wish my house looked like this. It’s simply not this pretty though.

Fast forward to now. The girl is happy-ish. Things are tough, sure, but they seem to be getting better. She has so much to do, that the house is beginning to slip again. The girl thinks back to the way it used to be. The way her house used to look. She looks around, unhappy with where things are. She knows it’s not bad yet, but worries that it could get there. She gets so much more help now, so that’s huge, but she still feels like she should be doing more to help. She feels this way, but instead of cleaning, she writes, because right now, it’s all she knows how to do to keep sane.

Which End Up?

These past weeks have been trying to say the very least. I’ve hit a low that is unlike any other I’ve experienced before. It’s uniqueness stems from the fact that I have much to be happy about while I am curled into the fetal position crying about what is going wrong. I swear, my life is more bipolar than I am right now.

My grandfather passed away. He was 89. He lived a long and wonderful life and for that, I’m happy. But the way he passed away is something I cannot be okay with. He was hit by a car and then spent the next 3 days in the hospital before passing away. Yes, he was 89, but the man was in great health and still sharp as a tack. He could have easily seen 100 if this accident hadn’t happened. Yes, it was an accident. Little old lady hit the gas instead of the brakes. I plan on writing a beautiful piece about him some day, but right now, I just don’t have it in me. I think the pain is too fresh.

Less than a week before this occurred, my mom was in the hospital for a suspected heart attack. She’s been in to see specialist after specialist now and will be having a cardiac catheter done this week. I’m really worried about her. She’s only 52.

My eldest is having so many health issues it’s not funny. I can’t even remember how many times I’ve taken her to the doctor in the past few weeks. After taking her to the ER the other night, she experienced not one, but two allergic reactions medications they gave her. Now, she can barely walk and the only thing we can do is wait. If she’s not improved by tomorrow, it’s another trip to the doctor for us.

The younger kids have been having some emotional issues due to my grandpas passing and that is presenting in their behavior. Trying to balance all that is becoming pretty tiresome.

School is one of those things I’m holding tight to right now because it helps me focus on something positive, but I’ve been so busy at home, doing my homework is becoming more and more difficult and now I need to drop a class I really like due to attendance.

I haven’t had time to decompress from anything lately except for a night with friends and a date night. My sewing machine is collecting dust, my craft box has been untouched, my books are collecting dust and I haven’t written for pleasure in ages.

All of this makes my heart hurt. There is a literal, physical pain in me right now. I want to fall apart for a million reasons, but I trudge on. My tank is on empty. I NEED things to start looking up and fast or I’m not sure where I’m going to end up with all this.

The good thing about these past few weeks is that my family seems more supportive and closer. I hope this will last. My boyfriend has been his amazing, supportive, helpful self through all of this and I truly believe that if it wasn’t for him, I’d be in a much darker place right now. He really does help keep me strong. I’ve had a chance to spend a lot of time with my eldest, but I wish she were feeling better so we could enjoy it even more.

I also FINALLY got a minivan yesterday, after needing one for ages. I’m so glad that’s out of the way. It’s pretty and it’s red. I never thought I’d own a red car, but this one suits me nicely I think. Plus, beggars can’t be choosers, and the price was right, so… lol. The BF even let me do the haggling and I think I did mighty nice. I managed to talk them down almost 15% from the sticker price! Go me!

So like I said, I’m in a weird place. I have a lot to be happy about, but life also seems to think it’s a good time to throw every type of chaos possible my way. Hopefully things will mellow soon. The optimist in me is getting pretty worn down.

Crazier than Nutter Butters

I really need to start taking notes when I get an idea for a blog. I had a great idea the other day when my craziness was at an all time high and now that some semblance of sanity has set in again, it’s gone. Poof. Like a fart in the wind. Oh well. Maybe inspiration will strike again soon.

Yes, I went crazy. I’m actually still kind of there, but just to a lesser degree. I managed to keep myself out of the hospital, but it took a fair amount of Xanax and a lot of patience on the parts of those around me. I’m not sure what caused this most recent decent into the darkness, but I know a few things that probably didn’t help. I find self reflection is one of the best ways to keep myself sane (or at least maintain the illusion of sanity). By acknowledging where I slipped up, I can do my best to avoid it in the future. So, here’s where I went wrong this time.

I stopped seeing my counselor. I see my shrinky dink (as I have so affectionately coined her) on campus. She’s great. She’s also ON CAMPUS. I’m a mom of five, a college student, and busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest. That convenience factor is HUGE for me. It’s been winter break for the last six weeks and in that time, I’ve managed to only see her once. During the semester, we had weekly visits. It made sense. I was there practically every day anyways. Might as well. At the end of the semester, we decided it might be easier to meet every other week. That’s where I went wrong.

Any break from routine screws me up in the worst kind of way. This isn’t to say that I have every second of my like scheduled out. Oh HELL no! I would die if I had to live by a strict schedule. I do better with patterns though. A certain level of predictability. I usually try to schedule any appointments on the same days of the week and around the same times because then I can think, “Oh, it’s Thursday, appointment day. Do I have any today?”¬† That’s the kind of routine I strive for.

So, being used to a weekly schedule and switching to every other week may not have been disastrous had my whole entire routine not changed as well. I’m yammering on here though. I think you get the point. Lots of changes in routine all at once, bad. Little changes so things don’t fall through the cracks in my cerebral cortex causing me to loose my nutter butters, good. Mmmm. Nutter Butter. Aauuuhhhhh.. (Drools like Homer Simpson)

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Peanut buttery deliciousness, oh how I covet thee

I was also denying myself my car therapy time. For those of you newbies -Yes you in the back, it’s nice to see a new face! Welcome to my blog. Like it says, buckle up and savor the crazy- my car time is what I like to refer to as “self therapy”. I sing, I dance, I cry, scream, talk to myself in different foreign accents, whatever I need to do to let the crazy out in one of my most sacred spaces; my car. Yes, sometimes those who drive along side me get one hell of a show, but I don’t really care. Sometimes I’ll even interact with them, doing things that I know will make them look at me like I’m batty. I suppose it’s a bit like throwing a temper tantrum when I do that. I’m getting attention for all the wrong reasons at that point, but it’s attention so… you gotta do what you gotta do sometimes.

As you can see, my car time is whatever I need it to be. It’s very cathartic to have that release to let the nonsense out. Trust me, there’s a lot of it to be let out too. Since I haven’t been doing so, it’s been bubbling under the surface waiting to explode. That’s what it did too. All over my family. In some ways, I’m glad it was them because they love me and will forgive me. In other way, I feel beyond shitty for doing that, yet again.

As far as the bipolar scale goes, things could probably be worse. On the manic side of bipolar disorder, there often comes an impulse control issue. Many bipolar people have issues with drugs, alcohol, gambling, infidelity, spending unwisely, binge eating, disappearing and other behaviors that involve poor judgement. Then, there’s the depression side of things to add on to that. I’ve been lucky enough to only experience a few of those and keep the majority of issues I’ve had to a level of minimal disruption compared to some of what I’ve seen others go through. It hasn’t been easy, I assure you, but I’ve done it.

There’s more to my story of this past week, but I don’t really know that it’s relevant right now. I want to give you the link to a website where people with bipolar and other mental illness can reach out to find help and connect with others who are in the same boat. I hear they have some great support groups. I’m going to look into one in my area.

I hope that helps anyone who needs it. I hope it helps me.

Bitch with a Capital “B”

Something has been off inside me. I’m not quite sure what. As someone who normally prides herself in knowing what’s going on in her noggin, this is pretty goddamn unnerving. It’s not one of my usual cycles, so I’m thrown for a loop. Let me give you a few examples of what I’ve been experiencing.

The other night the BF and I are curled up on the couch watching the Dark Night Rises. Awesome flick right? No amount of chick-flick-ness at all. Yet mid movie, I break out in tears. I wasn’t thinking about anything depressing, it wasn’t anything in the movie that triggered it. I HAVE NO IDEA WHY I WAS CRYING. This is so not normal. I only cry when I have a reason and even then I sometimes don’t cry.

Yesterday, I have the creepy crawly feeling. That has happened before, but it’s usually in conjunction with an unpleasant though (or thoughts) as well. I wasn’t thinking anything creepy, I was just trying to write my book.

I have been a Bitch lately. Notice the capital “B”? It’s been that bad. I have no patience with anything and I flux between wanting to be totally alone and being beyond needy. This is also abnormal for me. It sometimes happens in my mixed episodes, but if this is a mixed episode, it’s unlike any I’ve ever experienced before.

Not that anyone cares to hear this, but that wonderful week of the month is coming up, so maybe thats it? It’s not usually like this for that reason either. I’m beyond lost. I was talking about all this with the BF and he decided to try to make a funny. He said, “What if you’re pregnant?” after which he got smacked on the shoulder. Five kids between us is more than enough. Besides, my factory was shut down long ago.

Good news is I cranked out over 2,000 words in the book, bringing the total word count up to almost 6,000. I think what I wrote yesterday is stronger that what I’ve written before. Maybe the emotional turmoil I’m going through is good for the book. Sounds like a good excuse for being a Bitch anyways.

Pavlov and the Universe

Yeah…. It’s been forever since my last post. I suck. I’m not totally sure why it’s been so long either. I have some theories, but who knows if they carry any weight.

This past week or so has been me being sick, again, dealing with kids who have pneumonia, (hurray for the flu turning into something that could potentially kill a person), and my own descent into the darkest parts of me. Yeah, it’s been great.

There is hope though. I’m physically better, kids are on the mend, and I had the best date night tonight! My mood was brightening and I though maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to pull me out of my funk long term. Or at least for a few days. Boy, was I overly hopeful.

Today was a great day. My only regret is that I didn’t spend more time with the kiddos, but with the way I’ve been lately, I’m not sure they would have been all too happy if I had. My batteries have been beyond low and I seem to have a hair trigger these days. To put it bluntly, I’ve been a bitch. Not just an ordinary run of the mill bitch either. A mega bitch. One who breathes fire, has horns, and terrifies all the little people. Kinda like this…

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Yeah, yeah. I know it’s a dragon. I couldn’t find a picture of a crazy woman breathing fire who had horns, so please feel free to use your imaginations. Besides, that’s a fairly accurate representation of me the past week. And for those of you out there who may be wondering, no it is not that time of the month for me. I’m also not preggo. That factory was closed down long ago.

When I’m not breathing fire on all the tiny villagers in my home, I’m feeling lost, lonely and really damn needy. I am not typically a needy person. This is so not cool with me. I’ve been up the BF’s ass worse than a hemorrhoid and I feel like crying every ten seconds. This shit is going to make me crazy all on it’s own. I feel like such a girl, and in the worst of ways. Crying makes me feel weak, and I despise feeling weak. Historically, this is when I get shit on most. Kick her while she’s down, right? So I do everything in my power not to show these emotions. Which never works because they always come out in some way, shape, or form. Problem is, I’m too proud to admit that I need to lean on someone hard right now. Typing this is borderline painful right now.

So what to do. If I were talking to one of my kids, I’d say, “You need to tell us what you need. We are not mind readers. If you’re sad, mad, feel like you need something that you’re not getting, you need to let us know. We can’t help you if we don’t know what the problem is and we don’t expect you to deal with everything on your own.” Then I’d wrap them into a hug so amazing, they’d have no choice but to open up to me, because, hey, I’m cool like that.

Funny how I have all this wisdom in my teensy tiny brain to share with others, but not enough common sense to use it for myself. Yes, I am blissfully aware of the irony in this situation. Or is it blissfully unaware? Well, how about whichever makes me sounds like less of a dumbass.

Maybe my unwillingness to show weakness is a bit like Pavlov’s stimulus response. Although, my conditioning is a bit different than salivating on myself. (Okay there was that one time but I was really drunk) My conditioning had been I show vulnerability and I get hurt. Time and time again, this has happened to me. It makes a person nervous. It has nothing to do with my trust in those I love. I trust them all as much as I love them, which is a terrifying amount. I don’t trust that if I reach out my paw hand for help, the universe won’t bitch slap it back into my pocket.