That Girl

Had dinner with a teacher-friend last night since the hubs and BB were outta town.

I enjoyed myself but also feel sad. 

I've never been able to keep up with this woman. She's a force. So smart and thoughtful, maybe lacking a little insight to herself, but a thinker and a doer. Once she gets going I don't have to say much, just a couple questions and "Mmmhmm" nods here and there... and that's what makes me sad. I don't contribute much outside an earnest ear. I don't know the news she does, the politics, and despite having an English degree and time on my hands, I've hardly ever read the same books or seen the same movies or have anything to say about them. It speaks to why I can't be a teacher, too. 

Lemme clarify... it connects because despite the feeling of lacking (intelligence, knowledge, motivation, and achievement) I don't change. I don't try harder to get connected and I don't read the books that I think sound interesting from her descriptions. I don't listen to more podcasts or try more movies that I've never seen or heard of. Just like I felt stunted as a teacher, I stay in my lane. And I'm comfy there, but I feel shame for sticking to it, too. I feel like an embarrassment to Hubster, who is a try-and-see-what-happens type and a hardworker that wants to grow as a person.

I'm complacent. Dependent on the hubs. And while I'm sad, I don't see anything changing anytime soon. I'm that girl.

We switched my meds up a little bit to see if it would help with my motivation and such. I felt a bit more optimistic and willing to try for those several weeks, but I think it was a trick of the mind. 

Perhaps this is complicated by frustrations at work as well, but I've felt bad about myself after hanging out with this friend and another friend that we do a writing club with for months. I'm the squeaky third wheel there and we know it, but a writing group of two just doesn't cut it, so I'm there. And I value it and enjoy it, but the pitfall with my self-confidence gnaws at me.

I know this is jumbled, but I trust my readers will understand. I thank you for being there and receiving this.

Now, I'll do some cat boxes... the boys are coming home in a couple hours with my nephew in tow for a week's visit in lieu of a summer camp. I'm apprehensive and I'm sure that doesn't help with the aforementioned feelings! This is my sister's oldest son. The one I've been so concerned for. And I've been warned he's been "sassy" lately, so we'll see what this week holds!

Side note: also had an interview that ended in a rejection and a job that I wanted to apply for that disappeared, so these sad feelings are getting more understandable for me... sigh. D'oh! 

Hugs!

Saturday, Saturday, Saturday

All those Saturdays are to be read in an Elton John rhythm. That'll be stuck in my head for a while!

Anywho. Our Saturday had some ups and a big down. It's been a little rough moving on so I haven't posted about it til now.

The initial plan was for the hubster to go down to my folks' and meet up with my dad and a family friend to kill a bottle of whiskey in honor of their acquisition of said top 3 whiskey of the year. (the hubs and my dad and this guy have turned into whiskey collecting aficionados) It turned into a house party with BB and I coming along, along with the wife of family friend (another family friend).

***Yes, I understand three grown men killing a bottle of whiskey can sound pretty awful. They have a great time together but yes, my dad was a hurtin' unit the next day. Thankfully doesn't happen often at all***

I hung out with my mother and family friend for most of the night and then joined up with the boys for a fire and some extra desserts later in the evening. We ended up swapping birth stories somehow and it was nice to see my dad reminiscence. I always like talking about BB's birth too,

SO, the big down. While we were in the kitchen scrambling around desserts the family friend (husband not wife) touched my ass in an inappropriate manner. Not sure there is an appropriate manner.... He grazed a knuckle across me as he passed by. These ass-centric violations have happened a couple of times before. It always makes me feel disgusting and violated.

I wasn't sure how to broach the subject although I came very close to blurting out something. The hubs didn't see what happened and didn't offer much support. He admitted later that it was a mistake for him to say, "Well, it was your fault for being in the 'firing zone' around the desserts." Last I checked, I have a right to stand wherever I want at least when desserts are concerned.

Ugh, such nasty feelings. So much anger. The day after I didn't want the hubster near me or touching me. Hubster didn't quite understand what my agitation was related to so he suggested a road trip down to Kalama and my favorite restaurant. Gorgeous. Still didn't stitch me up emotionally.

The hubs and I were talking for hours that evening until I felt like he finally understood me. We stood up and I did to him what this family friend did to me and he finally admitted how horrible it was. His equating awkward shoulder holds or lingering handshakes fell apart.

Still sad. I know this man will try it again and I know that I will have to do something. Avoiding him will be difficult since these are family friends of three decades just about. Thankfully the hubster understands and will run interference, even back me up if and when I say something, but it's up to me to be courageous in the moment.

And it's so difficult.

Wondering at the horizon...

Found out another gym mom is pregnant today. Her joy was so infectious. This red-faced, supremely scrunchy smile that I described as "Christmas and birthdays and everything all together!"

It was heart wrenching.

Not too long ago I was coping with pregnancy envy over my other friend and feeling like I'd found a good place, worked through it, and moved on. Now I feel pushed back again into this mire of sadness and shame.

We don't want more kids. We're happy. Yet I'm also sad. I'm also confused. I lost so many memories even though I'm fairly certain that I did my best to cherish every stage and step of the way into motherhood. We made the decision to sterilize together and I'm so relieved that I don't have to worry about risking the horrible fallout from my first pregnancy.

I still feel anger. Anger and grief and shame. My choice was about "can't" and "won't" and yet somedays that "can't" glares so much more intensely. I feel robbed. I feel like my illness took my choice away from me. I wonder if we hadn't gone through what we did if we would've had our second child.

In the end, I feel like it's part of a phase-a process. Today I started to appreciate that I'm hanging around with a bunch of baby-making-aged ladies and it's gonna be a part of the scenery! Guess I didn't think that it would be so upsetting, or that I would be exposed to all those sticky emotions that come with pregnancies-good and bad emotions!


I found an article that seemed to help a little bit. It's a different animal, this type of pregnancy envy. I can't relate exactly to all those struggling with infertility and not having any children and those articles seem to reign supreme.


Anyways. I'm kneeling on our hard dining room floor (I was trying to work with our printer) and these old bones need to move!

Love and hugs.

Happy Trails :o)

Honestly.

I had ECT this morning. Now, it's this afternoon and I'm recuperating on the couch, watching a movie called "50/50." If you haven't seen it, I'd recommend it-just, maybe not on a day when you're keenly aware of your own illness.

Not too long ago I paused the movie and lurched off the couch and creaked down the hall to the bathroom. The boys had been playing for a bit and somehow I couldn't put it together where they were... Mind you, we live in a three-bedroom apartment. 

Standing in that hallway there was an open door to our bedroom on my right, a closed door ahead of me, and an open door on my left to the bathroom. They weren't in our bedroom or the bathroom and I couldn't remember what was behind the door in front of me.

I couldn't visualize BB's room. I could hear the boys playing and I couldn't imagine where they were. I forgot where his bed was, the blue mini-trampoline by the toy box and his bookshelf. I could hear their voices and had no idea the space they inhabited, the physical plane where they existed, what they could possibly look like behind that door.

My breath caught and the tears came. I stifled sobs and ducked into the bathroom, collapsing onto the floor in the dark. My nose ran. I wiped away tears and tried to keep quiet. Sucking air as I scrambled onto BB's plastic IKEA stool, I swiped at the door until it was mostly closed and slumped against the cabinet.

I was sick. I am sick. 

It's not usual for people to forget what their son's bedroom-a room they're in everyday-looks like. It's not usual for people to be getting IV sticks more than ice cream cones. When I can't remember what I read on the gym whiteboard or any part of the Super Bowl that I watched with the hubs, my gym friend, and our sons... it's not average. It's not a personality trait. It's a side effect. 

I'm sick. I'm sick and there's no cure. I can-I have-achieved remissions. I won't always be experiencing such dramatic side effects. I'm still sick. I'm still hitting up the pharmacy more often than most people visit The Olive Garden or some shit... I mean, you should see my medicine "cabinet." Honestly, I should be upgrading my storage options, 'cuz it's a cluster, I tell ya what.

Honestly. That word. It's a tough one for me. I have a difficult time gauging what's "honest" and what's "dramatic." Maybe that's because sometimes the honest truth is dramatic. Well, I don't want to be dramatic and I want to honest, so not only am I writing this post-I'm sharing some pictures that I've only ever shown to the hubs (well, he's not even seen some of them!).

So. Here goes. Some pictures. And more about my experience of being sick-not that I'm nearly as sick as some people! I know that it could be worse. I just want to be honest about how bad it is. I think a lot of it's about admitting to myself what I'm feeling... I've been opening up to some gym friends lately and it's a little confusing being so "chill" when I'm feeling so bad some days-ANYWAYS. Here goes.

I'm just gonna do it. (might've shared some of these before, just so ya know)

Heading into ECT w/ my hair net.
We put gowns over our street clothes
& cram all our belongings into bright green bags
that they leave at the foot of our bed during treatment.
Sometimes I'm lucky and get the Bair Hugger!

I got a butterfly IV today. Really easy stick too!
Took a picture to taunt the hubby-

Guess it's all about perspective, eh?
He's not one for needles-

Annual blood work does him in.
Kind of lucky that
I'm the "sick" one in that way!

Coming out of ECT.
This seems like my uniform of late-
striped cap, green sweater, Crocs!
It looks like I've been crying, although
I'm usually just misty-eyed post-anesthesia. 

Recovering last week at my parents' w/ BB
eating "yee-gurt" and watching Olympics.

Today.
Hard to see the goop on my temple from treatment-it's there.
Watching a movie about cancer made my cap feel way more "sicky!"
Hurt pretty bad post-treatment today.
Worst in a long time.
Getting a bit better now.

Found this from last month.
I can't remember exactly-I think we went
to the ER. The hubs claimed that he called
ahead and that they "had a room." Later
he admitted that he didn't know, he just told me
so to get me to the hospital.
Smart man.

So, I'm lying on the couch with a mass pillows and extra soft couch blankets (we're "couch blankets" people around here) and posting all these pictures... I feel like I've said something and not enough. Earlier, those sobs, that pain, I really, truly, deeply felt it. Now I feel numbed again. "It's not that bad" again.

Tapped for now.

Thank you. Love and hugs and gratitude and smiles. I'm getting back to "my life" more and more, hopefully that means more blogging. Even if it doesn't quite yet, know that I think of you all!

Bonus pic:

Made it to 29!
First official (29 yrs) bracelet :o)
PS: Good game in the background!

Hi Again

It's been a little over a week now since the hubster got laid off.

It's been rocky and at sometimes suspiciously smooth. A confusing mash of understanding and support jumbled up with grief and misdirected anger.

Already having been in the midst of a recovery period and trying to regain some of the balance I lost during the summer living with my family makes me feel more vulnerable. Not that unemployment at any stage of stability wouldn't be a nuke on anyone's life.

There has been some down swings along with a few upswings. The more problematic symptom has been anger. Outbursts, violence, bickering, and eventually the shame and sadness that usually follow my angry moments.

Thankfully the violence has been limited to slamming my fists on a table, flicking or throwing something (not at anyone or to break anything), and yelling. It's still embarrassing and I know that it stresses Baby Bananaface. The hubs and I aren't used to this level of... angst and expression. Being the types that don't just let things lie means that we struggle to shelve things in order to discuss them in a more appropriate way. Things just erupt wherever and whenever.

Even during these rough times, we know that we are committed to one another and strive to improve. We know things will get there. Baby steps.

The holidays are coming.

My nephew's birthday is Saturday. We haven't heard of any party or anything. Wouldn't be surprised if we weren't invited, or invited last minute with the hope of us not being able to make it sort of thing.

We are going to send him a gift and card in the mail tomorrow, just in case.

The journeys across state for Thanksgiving and Christmas are a little worrying. Expenses and potty training complicate things. Our little commuter car isn't something we like to drive over the pass-let alone put more miles on-and we hate to spend money on a rental right now. We shall see how things work out.


Off to errands and chores.

Thank you for commenting! I'm sorry that I can't respond to everyone lately or read around. I do miss everyone and look forward to catching up more thoroughly soon :o)

Acknowledge, Accept, Engage

Ya might think this will be a political post and it isn't. The truth is that I've been having a rough time and I haven't posted about it because I'm self-conscious about posting too often and/or posting incongruous posts. Well, that's life with mental health diagnoses. I can have glorious moments on family vacation and horrible lows all in the same week-or day.

So here goes.

The Friday before we left for our road trip I had my first full-on panic attack in months. My anxiety had been elevated for weeks and I think the pre-departure stress put me in a very vulnerable position.

The class that day was probably around triple the usual size because of an altered schedule that week. We were doing an exercise that involved many people dropping barbells almost in unison. That first round put me over. The tears came on, my body began shaking, my heart rate sky rocketed, and a flush came over me beyond my workout glow.

I grabbed my water bottle and purse, bounding into the front room to haphazardly open my emergency pill container that dangles from my wallet at all times. Between the shakes and my restrictive weightlifting wrist bands it was quite a task! After popping my pill I ran cold water over my hands and face before grabbing some frozen sponges and taking some time to walk around outside to calm myself. A friendly childcare/office lady talked with me during this time and helped me calm down as well.

Yesterday, I had to run out of a workout again.

I haven't been able to manage my anxiety the last several weeks and injuries preventing me from engaging in my workouts as I'd like have been quite upsetting. With the elevated anxiety I wasn't able to think straight and ask my coach for help scaling, instead I panicked when the workout began and subsequently walked out before a full blown panic attack struck.

I collapsed on the grass in the sun outside the gym and cried.

My coach hollered from the warehouse door to see if I was okay and I told him it was anxiety and that I'd be fine.

Later, after the workout, he asked if I wanted to talk about it. I started crying and shrugged my shoulders. He asked if the anxiety just "cropped up" and I told him that it had been a problem for a while. This time, it was more than anxiety though, the suicidal impulses have returned. I told him that I had some mental health diagnoses that involve anxiety and chronic suicidality. That these disorders require me to work out frequently at a certain intensity or things can get dangerous for me. My injuries have been gumming that up.

He thanked me for talking to him and I thanked him as well. A couple other folks inquired as to my well being and wished me well.

I love the support I've received there. It does freak me out that I'm experiencing such intense symptoms where I feel most safe. I can understand it, sure, I'm just concerned that I can't even relax at my relaxing place.



I'm very scared. The dips are persisting longer than they have in a long time. I've had suicidal episodes since moving here, they were acute though. This is a different animal. A slippier animal.

The hubs has pushed things into high gear looking for alternate housing. I've been trying to avoid my family as much as possible. I still need to pull out my DBT book and focus on really working some skills...

My brain is slow yet my thoughts are fast.

My body is weary yet I can't relax.

I have to acknowledge this isn't just a little dip. I've had a few intense episodes since the move and this isn't that. It's been a slow, sneaky descent. I find it more difficult to recognize the dark logic as my disease and I'm starting to romanticize suicidal ideations.

I feel like I'm walking a very dangerous line. I feel desperate. I am afraid. And I'm crying at the drop of hat-more and more in public and when driving (not exactly safe).

Moving here was a bad, bad idea. I came in with the best intentions, trying to tamp down the fear and focus on meeting the challenge, but I have to retreat.

Over and over I think, "my family is killing me," and it haunts me. I feel guilt. I feel anger. I don't think they mean to and yet a sense of victimization overwhelms me. It isn't fair. Why me? So many other people have it so much worse... It's so messy. It's so hurtful. They aren't safe. This can't be malicious, you can't hold them accountable for ignorance... I feel like they would be offended and confused to hear this and yet I can't deny it. I don't want to hurt them, I don't want to blame them (though it is so hard to delineate between fact and blame for me)... but a cut needs to be made. I need to excise this threat.

Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain for staying, pain for leaving.

I suppose my brain chemistry at the moment doesn't help either.



Hope this isn't too incoherent. Thanks for being here, from vacation to crisis :o)

I don't like living in an MTV special...

This morning was a tough one at the gym, especially when my left arch gave out during warm-up. I ended up rolling my feet on a hard ball for a while and when I did the workout of the day I scaled from the running into rowing. Anyways... it was tough. It left me a bit frazzled and without appetite which made feeding BB and staying focused difficult.

While I was grilling a grilled cheese my mother called. Her voice... was frosty. She sounded angry or scared, definitely more serious than I normally hear her. She said she needed me to listen very carefully and went on to say that my sister was in hysterics and that someone had called CPS on my sister and were coming by for an inspection that day.

I felt sick. I got lightheaded. I tried to hold the panic back and focus on one thing at a time. I got BB fed and called the hubster. 

The CPS folks were scheduled to come at 1:30, during BB's nap. Turned out that BB had a hard time getting down for his nap around noon and I had to drive him around for his nap today. I wasn't there for the visit. My sister, her boyfriend, my brother, my dad, and I think one of my sister's friends was there too... 

The investigators called me while I was driving home and I stopped by their office (the hubster happened to be able to meet me there) and they looked over BB and spoke with us. 

It was all so intense. So stressful. Watching my family in distress was surreal and distressing. Seeing my nephew so innocent and unaware of what was happening just heartbreaking.

Most of the time these sorts of things are unable to be properly substantiated and don't get beyond a "here's some resources, try to do a better job," so I'm not afraid of my nephew being taking away or "put in the system." I hope if anything that it will only improve the situation for him and my family. 

Living here these couple months I have noticed how much parenthood is wearing on them. I do believe my nephew could have a better emotional environment. I hope this is all for the best.

My family has been searching for answers and trying to figure out where the report came from. It feels a bit like an MTV special with all the drama... certainly doesn't feel like my "real life." Wow. Guess you never know, eh?

In the meantime I have to calm back down. Probably going to take my sleeping meds tonight!

In other news, we're heading over the mountains to visit my in-laws. We're very excited to see them and excited to have a mini-vacay. 

One of those "anger release" exercises...

WARNING: EXTREMELY LONG POST!

Seriously, it's really long.

If you have to pee, pee now.

So... I had intended to do a different anger releasing writing project and instead I found myself "gifted" with a new starting point today. I ended up mixing some of my previous complaints with the newer ones. It might be a little confusing-somehow in my process I blended multiple members of  my family into one. No matter. The process is the important part. 


DISCLAIMER: I tried to embrace my anger. I tried to fan the flames. I tried to dig up compacted rage. As intentional as this is, I am still quite uncomfortable with expressing my anger. I don't know if such phrases are effective. I don't know if it's rational or justified or something I can stand by... I'm trying not to judge myself and I hope you can withhold judgment as well :o) I don't like saying mean things. I empathize and I see both sides so much that I struggle to even own thoughts like these let alone express them on paper, screen, or out loud!

DISCLAIMER PS: The hubby has encouraged me to embrace a "go fuck yourself" mentality. Instead of being hurt and trying to figure out what's wrong with me or how to be good enough, reject the hurtful opinion. Think or say "go fuck yourself" instead of throwing myself under the bus or putting myself at risk for relapse. I don't have to analyze every comment... I can let it go. Push it away. So, I tried to embrace that. In real life I don't really say, "go fuck yourself." Ever. Very weird feelings... Anywho. Just sayin.


Here we go. Somehow an offhand comment set my off...



Maybe you thought it was a compliment today when you said I should be on that show, "American Grit." The thing is, when the host describes the show as a place for people "all who either have lost their grit or never had it" I don't take that as a compliment. 



A) How the fuck can you think that I don't have grit? Do you have that little appreciation for what I've survived? 


It's puzzling to me that you have never seemed to grasp my mental health issues. It's been over 15 years since my symptoms surfaced and yet it seems like you still struggle to acknowledge my disease. I mention something relating to my mental health and I'm greeted with a "deer in the headlights" stare. My husband says that he has given up on trying to explain that this type of illness can't be "cured," that it's part of my body chemistry and brain structure. Do you really think I'm not trying hard enough to "fix it?" Do you think that I'm lazy?

Maybe you don't appreciate the years of my childhood and young adulthood spent in quiet desperation. The years of self-harming and isolation. You pegged me as "the Eeyore of the family." Why does my mental illness define my personality? 

Maybe you didn't notice my instability. You didn't notice my disease sending me into months of darkness or jerking me into weeks of elation. Years of feeling like I couldn't be trusted with my own life; whether that meant wanting to kill myself or being aware that I was too starry-eyed to make responsible decisions. I was impulsive and unstable and trying to figure out a solution all on my own... I suppose these deep-rooted feelings of rejection and abandonment have grown from multiple seeds, I'm sure this is one of them though. You didn't know what to do, I get it, maybe if it felt like you tried I wouldn't feel this angry. I wouldn't feel this heartbroken. You turned away from me and fed my self-disgust. 


And what of the last couple years? Do you appreciate the fact that I spent months barely able to care for myself or my infant son? What about the period of time that I couldn't be trusted alone with my son? Surely you remember the weeks in the hospital. I'm told you visited. I know that you helped drive me to ECT treatments. Do you know how many times the hubster drove me? or drove BB north to daycare then drove south to work then drove west to see me in the psych ward before rushing back to BB and caring for our son throughout the evening-multiple wakings in the night-before waking early to do it again all on his own? (Hubby comment: he only got one speeding ticket!)

Do you see the scars we carry? The scars that bind us? That time broke trust and built trust. I couldn't be trusted with my life or with my son's life. He saved us. Why does the hubby ask so openly and abruptly if I'm safe? if I'm suicidal? if I feel out of control? because dozens and dozens of times I've been in danger. He's been rescuing me. That was our norm and we've made it through. We've made it through and are making a new normal from scratch. Your jokes and teasing about his protectiveness and adherence to routine aren't just annoying, they're insulting.

How can you imply that I don't have grit? Over a year of life-threatening postpartum depression, over a dozen medications tried to stem the crisis, over three weeks in the hospital, over thirty ECT treatments... I'm still here. I laid on a bed and waited for my last breath to try and spare my husband and son a lifetime of trying to save a life I thought wasn't worth saving-mine. My husband ripped that plastic bag off my face and saved my life that afternoon and despite having close to no resolve left, somehow I kept fighting. For him. For my son. And a little for me.

How much more grit do I have to have before I can believe you think I'm enough?

I can't count on that anymore. I can't wait to sense some change in you. I can't play these pussy-footing games of allusion and corroding criticism. I may have started my life in this game with your dangerous rules. I won't finish my life at your game. You can call me sensitive, you can tease me and imply that I'm weak, you can make me feel like I'm flawed beyond salvaging-and then you can go fuck yourselves. Just because you don't seem to realize the damage you cause doesn't mean you are devoid of responsibility. 

I don't need your apologies. I don't need you. I don't need more grit.




B) Do you have that little appreciation for how much I do everyday to try and avert relapse and continue to survive? What kind of grit does that take?


You give the impression that the most important aspect of my exercise regimen in my weight loss and being fit. Maybe all your comments about me "being in the best shape of your life" or "a sliver of what you used to be" are intended to be compliments. In reality? It feels like weight added back onto my shoulders. I feel pressure to lose more weight. To lift heavier weight. To tone more parts of my body and fit in smaller clothes and eliminate rolls and embody some image that you, society, and the shadowed part of me have deemed worthy of pride. 

It's not healthy.

My mental state is more important than the state of my ass. I exercise every day to try and maintain my mood stability or actively battle back anxiety and depression. I go to the gym despite my social anxiety, despite feeling inept and insufficient, despite feeling like an outcast and poser. I go to the gym and try to push myself hard enough to be able to push back the disease I will live with for the rest of my life.

It doesn't really matter how much I can lift. The kind of strength I need most can't be provided by regular exercise.


You tease me for my "OCD" while loading the dishwasher or trying to keep the refrigerator organized. Okay, that's not how you do things. Fine. I do it different and for a damn good reason. 

I'm not OCD-which is a  clinical disorder and not something to be joked about-I am sick. I am sick in such a way that I have to avoid any extra stress whenever possible. I am sick in such a way that I have to be mindful throughout my day about big and little choices-from doing dishes or taking medication. 

I am sick in such a way that unloading the dishes and finding several of them dirty because the machine was overloaded or loaded ineffectively can be unduly upsetting. I'm sick in such a way that having sharp knives scattered throughout the other silverware instead of contained in their own section can increase my impulses to self-harm. 

As for a disorganized and sometimes unsanitary fridge or a cabinet stuffed with mismatched Tupperware? If I'm having a bad day, opening a door and being confronted by these things can send me into a panic or distress me in a way that contributes to a depressive episode. Not to mention feeling the criticism and rejection from you verbal teasing in each carelessly placed item. And seriously-why would you want to put your fruits right by (or on) your raw meat!? 


I have to live this way to live. It's working for me and that's what matters-at least to me, my husband, and our son. Don't think that I resent it-it is a lot of work and it's also the greatest sense of stability that I've ever had in my life. My mental state may fluctuate and get dangerous from time-to-time; dinner will always be at 6:00 PM. The silverware will always be sorted and easily accessible. The yoghurt will always be on the same shelf. Baby Bananaface will always have a set bedtime. That stability, having something I can count on, gives me comfort and confidence that I didn't have before. It helps me cope, it helps me thrive.

You want to live in a hurricane made by your own hand? Go ahead. You want to swallow your feelings and eat your loneliness? Go ahead. You want to bury yourself in cheap trinkets in lieu hearing "I love you?" Fine. I'm sick of trying to satiate the needs you don't claim responsibility for or even acknowledge. I'm not interested in maintaining this legacy of delusion and self-imposed suffering. I take this heritage and try to set it aside day-after-day for my own good and for my husband and for my son.

Y'all can sit in your burning building on your own. I'm leaving.




Whew. I tried NOT to edit much. I tried NOT to hold back or censor. I'm sure that this isn't everything though. I have a hard time handling anger. I think this was a step in the right direction though.

What does this mean for the real relationship with me family? I have no clue. I do think that I can't expect them to change or expend too much of my energy fighting to change things. I have to take care of myself in other ways first and that takes a lot of my time and energy. I think it's all right to simply accept things and accept that I don't have to fix it. I can move on and live the best life that I can without making everything neat and perfect.

CONGRATS if you read this entire post.

 You have eyes of steel ;o)

Tongue-biting and Letting Go

Things got pretty emotional for me the other afternoon when the hubby showed me a Wikipedia page. It was all about attachment disorder. Not only did it bring up feelings about my relationship with my mother and thoughts about my mental health challenges-it really, really brought up concerns about my nephew.

I was crying (lightly, still falling tears though) as I read the article. The descriptions of symptomatic behaviors reminded me so much of my nephew. The descriptions of neglect that lead to to these troubles reminded me so much of how my mother and sister interact with my nephew.

Don't get me wrong, they're doing their best. They just seem to be capable of only so much patience and empathy. When it runs out they walk away, put down, tease, or rough handle my nephew. He cries so hard I wonder if he'll pass out.



The majority of the time he stares blankly at others and will only interact with my mother, sister, or father (outside playing with Baby Bananaface). He's warmed up to me over the past month and things have changed dramatically between us. Now I can help him with a toy, pick him up, or exchange a few words. The first time he handed me a toy was a major event for me. I've even been able to push him around in a cart at the store or walk with him alone! Even been able to watch him while my family leaves and help him not breakdown. Big steps.

Anyways. It is all very upsetting to me. When I think about my nephew's past and see (in my opinion) when he's poorly treated now and when I think of his future... it's heartbreaking. Especially as I get to know him better and become more attached to him. He's a sweet and sensitive kid-even more so than BB-and I think that the atmosphere my family creates (has/is/will) by harmful for him.



The hubster and I talked about it and have decided that it's not our place to bring it up or try to change my family. It just feels like a violation of my moral code. I want to help! It's definitely taking some work for me to let things go and accept that it's not my responsibility. It still feels wrong as I type this... I have to take care of myself first though. Myself and my son and the hubster. Ugh... I just don't know if I can bite my tongue. It feels like a betrayal to my nephew. Abandonment or neglect on my part.

Regardless of all that I have made and will make conscious efforts to support him as much as I can. I try to be sensitive, patient, calm, and supportive during our interactions. I've stepped in and tried to deescalate situations when my mother or sister lose their cools. Sometimes that feels like stepping over the line, although the hubster witnessed this on one occasion and said that it seemed like I was helping, not barging in and taking charge or preaching.



So. That's something I'm working on of late.


As for recovery, I'm lifting BB and doing chores and walking. I've been able to get outta the house and being more active has definitely boosted my mental state! I'm nervous about going back to gym class and also looking forward to the exercise and social interaction.


Hope everyone had a great weekend! Any fun stuff??? I made lava cakes (over-baked them a smidge) and battled pine cones on the lawn with rake. Seriously, it was rough. BB went to Build-a-Bear and the hubby spoiled him with an over-the-top stuffie plus accessories. *facepalm* It was quite the event... Maybe I'll write about that later and share some pics.


Happy Monday :o)

Another Day, Another Dip

Today was one of those days that starts out a bit rocky. You think you can right the boat and paddle on and then everything tips and you're in the drink.

I was feeling down from the get-go. The malaise of a depressive episode shadowing my every move. I made it a point to make it to the gym-I even did two classes back-to-back this morning. That would usually turn my mood around and get me going. Instead, I felt bored. They challenged me a bit, though afterward I didn't get my usual post-workout high. I was simply back to the grindstone.

I felt hungry and yet didn't want to eat. I did anyway.

We took Baby Bananaface for a drive to help him get a proper nap in and for the most part enjoyed the drive and time to chat together. Toward the end of the drive though-we were discussing our relocation to the new area and long term plans-just a few misplaced feelings and fumbling statements pushed my mood over the safety rails.

Whatever bit of recovery I had made from the earlier episode(s) this week crumbled. I began avoiding eye contact. Not speaking. My face slack. Tears falling easily. Thoughts of suicide tactics and self-harming urges flying through my mind.

At one point the hubs tried to get me to promise that I wouldn't hurt myself. Even narrowing his request to encompass only this afternoon, only this evening. only this night, only today. Even then I couldn't say the words. I found myself saying, "How do you define 'hurt yourself?' What if it's better than killing myself?" It got very dysfunctional very fast. There was even some tousling and wrestling as I tried to escape his hugs.

Eventually he managed to get me into bed. Got me to drink a little water. Take some anti-anxiety medication.

As I laid there, desperate thoughts still clattering through my brain-I found myself a surprising respite. I imagined the hubster and BB in a new home. Tall ceilings and lots of windows and natural light. There was a peaceful, petite woman cooking in the kitchen. She watched as they played in the dining area, smiling as she diced and measured and stirred. She had sandy blonde hair and dark blue eyes. She loved them and she was there for them, able to provide and contribute and be a stable, consistent, supportive part of the family. She loved them. He loved her. BB loved her. They were all calm and grateful and happy.

Imagining the scene slowed my heart rate and my thoughts. Brought tears to my eyes and heavy sighs out my throat.

The meds started to kick in. Still, I felt haunted by plots to sneak out a window and walk down back roads toward the bay to swim away until I simply couldn't keep myself afloat any longer. I even had a thought of taking the family dog (my sister adopted it and my parents mostly take care of it and they all complain about her) with me and somehow managing to have both of us obliterated by a train. It seemed like a nice thing to do to get rid of a dog that annoys everyone along with the burden I supply!

Now I'm regaining some perspective. Still quite aware of the darkness. Still quite susceptible. Still convinced that I'm not worth the breaths I take.

Part of me knows that those thoughts will fade and a healthier outlook will return. Part of me has scooped up that sticky rationale that I'm beyond repair and not anywhere near the trouble or bother it takes to keep my alive through these episodes.

If this isn't the bottom, I'm certainly on my way for another visit.

Back to the battleground I go.

Quiet Rapids

Things have been a bit haphazard of late. An odd mixture of slow and fast with a dash of numbness.

Last week was quite emotional as I contemplated the upcoming move. Panicked, really. I took a walk with a friend and she laid out all of her concerns for me regarding the move. Cue the "oh shit" moment! It definitely stirred the pot emotion-wise. It also presented a reality check moment with an opportunity to really consider and plot backup plans in case living with my folks/sister/nephew just doesn't fly.

Lots of sighs. Lots of packing. Lots of "I have no fucking clue."

I'm sad. I'm scared. I'm (a tad bit) excited. I'm a little hopeful while also feeling quite skeptical.



There have been some dark moments-moments when I've lost myself in worry. My confidence eroded by strong waves of fear. One day was so bad that I had suicidal thoughts flashing through my brain. Thankfully not impulses or strong urges, just fleeting images. Still, definitely a symptom of my stress.

Those down days-or just an afternoon or morning sometimes-weren't nice, were quite discouraging, and luckily short-lived. I was able to bounce back reasonably well and reasonably quick. I think my DBT skills kicked in and having help from the hubster, of course. I also think that having my mood be stable for longer stretches help me bounce back from the dips and resist the dives.



At the moment our condo is about 90% packed. Regular routines continue and yet our surroundings are changing. Walls are stripped of familiar frames and shelves. Boxes are piled up against walls. The kitchen is bare and nearly useless.

Honestly, I'm still not sure if it's all sunk in. It feels like we've got longer here, despite having no cutlery out and our food supply limited to things that require no intensive preparation. Driving into the lot today it occurred to me that I'd only drive into the familiar parking area a few more times... and the thought simply drifted away. No thump, no feeling, hardly a ripple.

It's the calm before the storm now. I feel stillness at the surface yet I know the rapids within will most likely overtake me sometime soon. I'd be concerned if the move didn't involve some tears! I think driving away from my neighborhood without plans to return will trigger some... leaving my gym for the last time in a long time (I have tentative plans to visit, just not certain plans)... and settling into the new surroundings will be rough.

Don't get me wrong, it's not a palace here. That said, the obnoxious sounds from the nearby arterial, freeway, and rowdy neighbors are familiar. The popcorn ceilings and dilapidated buildings, even the shoddy landscaping and rather "well worn" faces around the complex will be missed.

The hubby reminds me often to look forward. I know that this helps him a lot-fantasizing about getting a house and a yard and a new job. For me, it can help in little doses. Too much and I begin to feel pressure, even fear that I won't be able to achieve certain aspirations. It becomes stressful and I got enough of that!



Anywho. That's a taste of what's going on. Been saying goodbye to folks and enjoying the company of my gym pals as much as possible. I certainly hope that I can find a new tribe down south and at the same time it feels a little unfaithful to leave these people behind. I suspect that's a passing sentiment... at least I hope so ;o)

Trying to read and comment, it's just a bit tough lately! Catch up later, friends :o)

Happy/Sad Days

Last week I got to graduate from my DBT therapy. Wednesday the 1st was my last group night and Tuesday the 7th was my last individual meeting. I can still contact my therapist if I need help or need a random session. Still, it was a goodbye rather than a "see ya later."

Saying goodbye to my classmates was more emotional than I expected. I knew that I would cry, I just didn't expect to be sniffling and stuttering and seal-barking hardcore crying like I was!


For DBT graduation we each hold a seashell and share our thoughts and goodbyes to each graduate before they get to hold the shell and give their goodbyes to the class. I started crying while people gave me their goodbyes and when I started into mine the dam really broke. Before I even addressed the class I gave them all individual cards and handed the instructor my bin of "special prizes" for the weeks when they get double homework or when they get to play Jeopardy for module reviews. It was a good feeling.

I got so many great compliments. People spoke about how different I am now compared to when I first started. I don't slump and mumble anymore. My shoulders are back and I'm a beaming light and I take up the whole room with my laugh-it was so sweet. They talk about how supportive and friendly I am. How hard I've worked at the skills. How different class will be without me.

My therapists each called me a "community maker." That meant a lot to me. For so long I've battled loneliness and felt so isolated. Now I initiate conversations with acquaintances and strangers. I reach out and don't worry about reciprocation. I'm not paralyzed by fear anymore. I'm me. Take it or leave it.


My individual therapist also talked about how much has changed over the past year. How she was really worried about me being able to do DBT with my history of ECT. When I started DBT I was still doing ECT. She said that they'd never encountered anyone who had done ECT that could effectively learn DBT-until me. She called me an anomaly. Special. It was magical. I felt like a diamond. It meant so much to have someone point out just how much I've battled through. How I've beat the odds.

I'm a success story. I want to stay a success story. One day a time.


We have done so much trying to get me back to good since Baby Bananaface was born. Medications, therapies, inpatient, outpatient, ECT, TMS, DBT, exercise. The medications have been a part of my recovery, sure, though I really feel like the DBT and my gym routine are what saved me.

For my birthday I got to share my thanks with my gym instructors and last week I got to share my thanks with my DBT community. I'm so happy that I'm in a place where I can share like that as well as acknowledge how far I've come.


Whew. So many emotions! Anywho. That happened. :o)

Checking In

I'm feeling much better and totally recovered from my jungle fever. That night was awful and the next day I couldn't walk much without getting faint until that afternoon. Even into the evening I couldn't stand around for very long without having to sit down. I decided to skip my gym classes again the following day to give myself enough time to really bounce back. I was back at it on Thursday though!

RANDOM BB PICHe insisted on wearing his galoshes.
Certainly developing his own style!

There was an interesting moment with my mom (it was Friday I think). When we had visited for Baby Bananaface's birthday she had seemed agitated during our grocery/coffee run. I was pretty sure it wasn't something that me and mine had done. I still wanted to make sure and give her an opportunity to vent even if it was something else.

Well, when I asked she kept changing the subject. I kept asking. Even to the point when we were walking back into the house! "Is something bothering you or not? You keep changing the subject and avoid giving me an answer. What's going on? Do you just not want to talk about it? Just say so and I'll stop asking." She then admitted that she had been changing the subject and didn't want to talk about it-a big moment considering how emotionally accessible is!

So, the story continued a couple days ago.... She called me while she was on base getting her lab work done and picking up her meds (she takes injections for rheumatoid arthritis). Then she brought up the agitation! Something about how all of them being sick (my nephew, my sister, Mom, and Dad all at once) and how she was worn out.

She mentioned something about how she thinks my sister is realizing how agitated she really is lately. She also opened up about how she is not only exhausted, she misses having her own life. "Sure, he's my grandson and I love him and I want to take care of him. I just want some of my old life back. I don't like how I'm the one he comes running to whenever he needs something!"

It was sad and yet also felt amazing. I've decided to change the way I live with being open and genuine whether or not people reciprocate. Usually, my family doesn't really reciprocate with sharing personal feelings or opinions, they simply listen and nod type of thing. It can feel awkward. This time I got something in return! It made me feel like I was making a difference. It made me feel validated and encouraged to continue being myself. It felt wonderful.

RANDOM BB PIC
He picked out his jacket, hat, and mittens.
Pretty dang happy that morning!

I'm sad about the situation. It's not quite a hot mess; it certainly ain't near great though.

The relationship between my sister and her baby daddy is awful. She's borderline abusive I would say. That makes me and my parents worry about the future since sister/baby daddy are going to be in each others' lives for the rest of their lives! We want things to be better for my nephew... and for his parents.

My parents have had my sister and their grandson living with them for a while now. She moved in sometime during my recovery (I can't remember when because of the ECT) so it's been a decent length of time. Over a year now, I know. They're exhausted. She blows up at them and will sometimes complain to me about wanting her own place. I don't think she appreciates what she has and how good she has it. She calls herself a single parent when she's really got two co-parents.

RANDOM BB PIC
"No time for diapers!
I gotta catch up on my Reader's Digest!"

The hubs and I have been having some pretty... intense discussions lately as well. It's borderline arguing and there's definitely strong emotions-thankfully we always end up in a calmer place with more functional communication. I think I'll post about that later after I've had more time to think on it.

Hope everyone's having a good weekend. We've got blue skies and chilly temps. Might get some snow flurries today.

Bumpy roads-but I got big tires!

Yesterday was a challenging day. I made it through. Things got bad but they didn't get scary. So, I'd call it a messy victory.

I think the first thing that threw me off was my gym class that morning. I've been doing especially well in the class for a few weeks and decided to stick with my 8-10-12 pound weights and not grab the 5. Well. It turned out I sure needed that 5 for shoulder work! Yeowza!

I was embarrassed when my instructor noticed my weights and offered hers to me to lighten me up. I thanked her and thanked her again at the end of class. I definitely felt disappointed with myself and embarrassed. Still working on those old mental habits of never asking for help and only success brings you love.

Another frustrating element to the class was getting lightheaded and feeling like I was creeping toward a fainting spell. It's happened to be before, years ago, and I think this time I hadn't drank enough water that morning and my hurricane strength period was working against me. I don't like having to slow down. I don't like sitting out exercises. A) I like to blend in, not draw attention B) Growing up, being slow or being a quitter got ya teased incessantly Cue more of the "no love without success" psychological drama!


The bumps in the road continued when I got home and started studying my next chapter for Medical Terminology, the Cardiovascular System. Woof. I had thought the nervous system was rough! This one has two whole pages of abbreviations and oodles of treatments and pills and tests. Boy. It's the hardest chapter for me yet and that it arose on a day when I was already struggling with negativity about myself... not the best timing.


A third pothole surprised me on Facebook. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate FB for a lot of reasons, though it can be a hotbed of comparison. This post triggered a memory of a conversation the hubs and I had a while back. I had mentioned something about trying to cultivate a friendship with someone outside the gym environment and he had said something about how he didn't see me and this other person as being compatible. They were more cosmopolitan... and I'm just. Not.

It hurt my feelings when he said it then and it hurt my feelings seeing a post on FB that made me think, "Oh, he's so right." It made me wonder, "Then what am I? Where do I fit in?" And, don't know bout you, but for me that can lead into a windy and complex maze of thoughts!

I ended up practicing a few DBT skills. Checking the facts and being mindful of what I have to be thankful for (I do have a nice variety of friends, IRL, online, local, and all around the world). I want to be me first and foremost, no more people pleasing and hiding away just to try and stay in someone's good graces. I know that I can be a good, worthwhile friend to have without throwing myself under the bus!


The next pothole was a computer crash that lost a chunk of writing. I had been dealing with some low level anger and agitation most of the day. That computer crash just put me over the edge. I got so agitated and angry! It took quite a while to calm down and made me wonder.... will my anger continue to simmer unnoticed and then erupt like that all the time? Or will there be a time when I spout off in less dramatic, more functional ways, a little at a time instead of those big eruptions? I've hidden my anger or pushed it away for so long that I am not quite adequately skilled in coping with it yet...

Don't know. Right now I'm gonna head off to yoga!

My Birthday! (yep, it's a long post)

My birthday was yesterday and went pretty dang well, I must say. It was a busy day, but a happy day!


I started off my day at the gym, like usual. I took a class from one of the instructors I had given a card to and was a little anxious about what her reaction might be. She wished me happy birthday and then later on in class she sidled up to me and said, "By the way, your card was amazing."

She went on to say that her son saw the picture I drew and said it was so good they should frame it. She mentioned how much it meant to her and how sweet it was of me. We chatted a bit more and I felt really good and relieved that my card had been well received!

At the end of class she came up to me again and handed me an envelope. "I totally had this before you even gave me your card, I swear!" I opened it and saw a lot of writing so I decided to wait and read it in my car.

The message was so sweet. She mentioned how happy she was for me and how she was so proud of all the progress I've made and just amazed at how far I've come and what I've been through (I had shared my story with her before, so she knows about the whole twisted tale). She went on to say that she hoped I had a wonderful birthday and that she hopes to be around for my next birthday to see just how far I go this year.



I went home and relaxed a bit. Took a bit of extra time to pick out a "nice" outfit, do my hair, even put on makeup! I had class that afternoon and right before I worked up my courage to write a Facebook post that I had been contemplating... It included a selfie and blurb about what this birthday means to me as well as a thank you to any friends, family, providers, instructors, etc. that I hadn't thanked yet. It was a bit scary but felt so good (since then it has been well received so I feel relieved and encouraged!).

I picked up Baby Bananaface and we headed to the hubster's office. I had picked up chocolates as a Valentine's Day surprise and haphazardly hid them around his office (I also hid some around his morning routine route, he had to find 14 little individually wrapped chocolates all together).

We continued on south and met my parents, my sister, and my nephew for dinner. My brother couldn't make it but it did send along a card and that meant a lot to me. I made sure to say a formal thanks to my family for all that they've done to help me make it to my birthday. My mom and I cried but it was a good cry!

One of the highlights of the dinner was playing Soundball while we waited for the check. It is a game I learned at DBT and entails throwing an invisible ball to random people in the group-but that's not all. Before someone throws the ball, they have to repeat the sound that the person throwing it to them made up. Then they have to make up their own silly sound for the next person to repeat.

Things got serious. Lemme tell ya! We were laughing til we had tears in our eyes! Some of the noises were quite challenging and odd. By the end of it we weren't even doing the ball-throwing motion, but including our own random movements for the next person to mimic along with the goofy sounds! It was really fun and I really enjoyed myself.



The hubster and I a rather interesting conversation on the way home from dinner. My mom had made a comment at dinner that I'm "a completely different person" now and it made me wonder, who am I really? What was I before if not myself?

The hubby, as usual, seemed to have an answer without even needing time to mull it over.

He said something along the lines of, "I think you were repressed before. It was more than just the depression and anxiety being out of control. You weren't able to be yourself, your true self, for a long time."

This stirred my mental pot further. I was confused and concerned about how bubbly and energetic and social I've been. Maybe my birthday thank yous mission and cards were creepy or over-dramatic. I wondered aloud, "What if this isn't really me and I'm actually hypomanic right now?"

"Ahh. Well that's a good point. I think, though, that if you were hypomanic you'd be having sleep issues. You'd be more focused on big to-do lists and pursuing lots of projects and overextending yourself. You would have lost focus on what's important, what's healthy."

"So maybe, I'm not being hypomanic, I'm just not quite comfortable with me being... me yet? Like it's still unfamiliar and feels unsafe? That would make sense." I smiled and then frowned with further concerns. "But wait, if I wasn't me before, why would you have married me? Was I just depressed and awful all the time? How could you know the real me if I wasn't the real me?"

He laughed and smirked in his special way, patting me on the leg. "Because the good times were amazing. When we met, you were doing well. You'd talk about fun little chats and moments with the customers at the bank you worked at all the time. You gave me notes and doodles and little surprises. Sure, when the bad times came you were different, but I always knew the good side-the real you-that was underneath. It's been there all along."



It's all still confusing and a bit "who's on first" to me, but that chat felt really good and helped clear a lot of things up. I've still got a ways to go when it comes to accepting myself and building the confidence that will help me maintain my stability and life a successfully happy and healthy life, but I'm headed in the right direction. Day-by-day I'll get there.

It makes me cry thinking about how long he's been there for me. Recognizing and appreciating just how much he's helped me through, how he's stood by side and believed through it all that we'd find the real me through all that darkness. His faith and strength and resolve is stunning.

He's taught me so much about what love really is and I look forward to learning even more together. I really can't ask for anything more. He is my hero and so much more than I ever imagined a husband could be. Nobody's perfect, but I think we're perfect together and that's all that matters.


Thank you for all the birthday wishes :o)

Happy Valentines Day everybody :o)

Reverso Cards

So my birthday is coming up fast. Last week I had a conversation with one of my gym instructors about how this birthday means more than usual birthdays to me because I almost didn't make it here. She was very understanding and validating and I was able to share just about all of my story with her. It was awesome. She barely batted an eyelash and asked probing questions and was supportive, not scared.

Anywho. At the end of our chat she encouraged me to plan something special to celebrate my birthday. We have plans already to meet my family for dinner but other than that-nada. I thought and thought about it and then something popped into my head. I wanted to thank those that helped me make it to this birthday.

Money is tight so I decided to tell some people in person and then make cards for the rest myself. I've completed most of them (just have 2 more to go) and already talked to some of my providers in person instead of giving a card...

It was a bit tough for me figuring out exactly what to do and to not be too hard on myself while doing it! In the end, I drew each gym instructor a unique picture of an animal I thought they would like. A chickadee, a great blue heron, a border collie mix, and I'll draw an eagle and a husky today if I have the time.

In each card I wrote something similar with a unique bit included for each person. The gist was something like this: This year is a special birthday for me because I almost didn't make it here. As part of my celebration I want to thank those that helped me during the past year as I battled severe postpartum depression. Thank you for (insert specialized appreciation here).

I handed out a couple of them today and while the recipients didn't open them while I was there, they seemed grateful and I feel happy. Although I do think one assumed it was an invitation and I hope she isn't disappointed when she discovers it isn't! I suppose it is a bit of a reversal handing cards out on my birthday instead of receiving them, eh? Leave it to Hannah ;o)

So. That's part of what I've been up to in addition to my usual schedule and doing my best to stay balanced and moving forward.

In closing, I would like to thank each and everyone of my readers, commenting or otherwise! This blog and this community has been an amazing source of support for me during my ups and downs-especially during the last year and a half.

Thank you all for being such a wonderful part of my recovery and life. I appreciate you so much even though I can't always keep up with my reading and commenting! I'm so grateful for the encouragement and understanding that I've found here and have so enjoyed getting to know everyone more and more.

Looking forward to more years of gratitude and community-thank you!

Rough Waters

Been a wobbly couple of days... I think having a friend babysit Baby Bananaface for the first time and going out to a dinner with my folks stirred up some emotions and made me more vulnerable to a little dip in my mood.

I keep thinking about "27 days."

I asked the hubster how many days total I stayed in the hospital between the two visits and he replied, without a moment's hesitation, "27 days." It's seared into his memory. There's so many feelings and memories and pain and struggle. It wasn't just me falling apart, it was my entire family.

It's been pretty emotional and confusing having my brain awash with gratitude for being here and alternately shame for bringing so much distress, anguish even, to my family. Thinking about those I love most and how they stood by my side through all that madness and thinking about all the things they did to get me the help I needed as well as try to keep my little family afloat in the meantime... it's overwhelming.

Thinking about where we've been is one thing, but I'm also distressed thinking about where we are now. I'm doing better, don't get me wrong, but it feels like we're barely keeping our heads above water. The hubs is fraying around the edges trying to balance all the financial stuff, spending hours on the buses going to-and-from work since our other car broke down, working on his *hopefully* last class to get his degree, helping out with BB, me, and all the other spinning gears of life. I wish I could do more for him.

I want so much to do more for him but I also have to be careful not to send myself into a tailspin. I mean, hell, right now seems like a little tailspin! All these thoughts and feelings getting the better of me. Crying in yoga class, tearing up in interval training, losing my appetite and interest. I'm trying not to become too frightened and holding onto the hope that it's a temporary, little blip, but it sure sucks seeing myself floundering like this when all I want to do is be able to help my husband.

So as I sit here typing and crying, I can feel the sadness and anger but I can also feel the love. I know that I want things to be better and I know that there ain't nothing wrong with that. It ain't all roses but I'm here and I'm trying. My family is here and we're trying. We're just all gonna have to keep it up with those baby steps and soon enough the sunnier days will return.

<3

One Year

One year ago today, I was in the hospital. My aunt was also in the hospital.

On this day she died after a short, nasty fight with cancer.

As much as today marks a sad event for my family, it's also a day of deep gratitude as we reflect on how far we've come. My aunt is no longer with us, but I am still here and doing a lot, a lot, a lot better. She would've liked to hear that :o)

I didn't see my aunt while she was sick, or for many months before that. Years ago I started tapering off seeing her because it was too upsetting for me. She was a big smoker and somewhere deep inside I just knew she would get sick and leave us too soon. I couldn't stand it.

It's sad, but I don't really regret my decision. I couldn't handle the sadness and the stress of watching her kill herself. I did what I had to do at the time. While I probably would've gone to see her in the end if I hadn't been in the hospital myself, I'm glad that I didn't see her like that. Instead, I can remember the Aunt Sally that meant so much to me in a happier light.


So I raise my coffee cup to my aunt as well as to myself on this anniversary of sorts. I'm glad to have shared so many wonderful years with her and glad to feel once again like I have many wonderful years ahead of me.

Love. Love. Love.

<3

Cuteness!

This afternoon I picked up Baby Bananaface from daycare like the usual, but we had a special moment of uber cuteness...

He seemed to be looking across the street so I followed his gaze and saw a fluffy, labrador-sized, blonde dog hanging out in a fenced yard.

BB babbled, "Da, da," and continued to point.

"Yes! Dog!" I encouraged and smiled.

I whistled at the dog and it came to the fence and looked at us-even barked at us! BB responded with a big smile and more pointing. I asked him to wave hello to the dog and he did! More pointing, smiling, "Da, da," and joy followed. We even made "woof, woof" sounds to the dog.

It was a wonderful moment :o)




In other news, I've been doing chores around the house, preparing for my class to start on Monday, and hitting up the gym for my regular classes and some new ones. I'm trying to push myself a little more at the gym and it feels really good to get those sore muscles going again. It also feels good to be cooking for my hubby and baby, getting back on top of my household chores, and making the most of my days.

One step at a time sure gets ya places, I tell ya what!

I Did Good And I'll Do Even Better

I'm trying to focus on the positive right now but fearful, tense feelings throughout my body and anxious thoughts flashing through my mind are making that a challenge. I know that I did a good job today but a large part of me still feels bad about feeling bad.

What did I do today? This morning I went to the gym with Baby Bananaface and gave the hubster some time home alone. Then this afternoon I helped the hubster with a paper he's working on for school. After BB didn't sleep too well for his nap I took him for a drive so he could nap some more and the hubster could get more time to work on his paper. I even went to Target with BB without the hubster-two solo childcare excursions in one day! This is big doin's for me. It's a show of progress. It's an accomplishment.

That said, I still feel down about myself. I feel bad that I am not even better. I feel bad that these things are still a challenge for me and that I had to navigate anxiety and near-panic attacks throughout. I wish that it were easier. I wish that I was even more help to the hubster. I feel like he's carrying the family all on his own too often and at the same time I don't feel quite up to being an equal partner again yet. It's so confusing and sad to have these conflicting emotions as well as the fear and anxiety.

I recognize that I've come a long way and even though it's difficult to recall exactly how things were I know that things have been far worse for me than they are now. I'm contributing a lot more to our family by managing the laundry and dishes and cooking some meals. I'm taking better care of myself and am able to cope through many of my symptoms without medication or emergency services. I've even managed to taper off of ECT and that's no small feat.

I've come a long way and I've done good. There's still progress to be made and I can do even better and that can come with time. Over and over I tell myself that I can do this and that I am strong and that it's okay to feel bad sometimes, that I'm good enough exactly how I am. I so want to believe this deep in my bones someday instead of the fragile, confusing feelings I experience reciting these words now. Time will tell.

As we prepare to embark on another new week I feel scared of what symptoms I will experience and I feel pressure to perform as someone that is "getting better" would. As much progress as I've made and even with my tiny nugget of pride I still feel fragile and fearful each day. Part of me hopes that this will change gradually over time and before I know it I will feel strong and confident instead but there is also the weary part of me that wants to cry and collapse and give up. So many feelings, so many directions.

I'm still confused. I'm still trying. I'm still giving myself a gold sticker for today even with my doubts and nasty feelings! Baby steps got me here and baby steps will take me even farther to where I want to be, I just have to keep working at it and keep going even when these fears shadow my path.

I hope everyone had a good weekend and made their own victories-big and small! Gold stickers all around, I say :o)