Never No Change

I wouldn't say things have been "shaky" lately, but they've definitely been "squishy." Not quite walking across a rockfield on the side of a steep hill. More like squelching through a muddy riverbank riddled with those rounded river stones. Those stones that seem slightly more friendly than the sharp-cornered mountain rocks that are less forgiving when you fall on your ass.

Not convinced that I'll be falling on my ass soon. I do know that the fear of losing all traction is sitting comfortably in my mind. Whenever physical injury, sickness, or exhaustion forces me to slow down my self-judgment seems to pick up. Even if lying on the couch with a heating pad crammed under my back is the best thing that I can be doing, my mind brings up the 5+ lbs I've accumulated the last few months or the classes that I've yet to peruse for my online degree and-of course-the dishes in the sink or laundry in the hamper.

The fear is familiar. I become agitated, teary, and anxious and can't quite place the source of my discomfort at first. It's the fear. So familiar that it sneaks back into the forefront of my mind with little fanfair.

I may not have caught on, unsure of the source of my anxiety and excess tears, but the fear knows what it's doing. He goes right to work plucking those loose seams from our recent encounters. Those frays so susceptible to those classic judgments he brings with him. I've heard it said that addicts need only one hit to be sucked back into their drug addicitions. I can see how that could be when those hurtful digs start streaming through my mind with renewed gusto. It's difficult not to fall back into the darkest darkness immediately, but I've grown and fought for distance and when I saw those thoughts encroaching-I SAW THEM.

It didn't just happen. I wasn't just taken. I was sitting in bed, getting ready to retire for the night with the hubs beside me. I shoke my head, tears welling in my eyes, a quick inhale, shaky exhale with a shuddering shrug.

"It's not completely unexpected. Is it?" I looked forward, to the corner of the room between our light grey curtains and the mirrored doors of the closet. "Everything, lately. Not just throwing out my back but friends at the gym leaving, coming back from the observation schedule to so much free time. I just haven't figured things out again quite yet."

"It's another transition." His fingers fluttered over my elbow, not quite able to reach my arm for a hand hug, just a whisper of support. "We know these changes get to you. Noticing it is a big deal. It's really important. It's going to get better..."

"Gotta get back on those skills though. I'm running wild with these judgments lately." A few tears escaped and my nose began to run. "Been having those, 'Why me?' thoughts a lot. I know it's pointless. I feel so pouty and off-base."

"It's temporary. We gotta get you back into those DBT tricks and it'll get better."

I nodded. Breathed deep and let myself brush the doubt aside. Even if it were just for now, it would do. I'd done enough thinking. I just wanted to cuddle up with my husband and feel the cool spaces between the duvet slowly warm around us.

Of course, it took some anti-anxiety medication to help me meet that goal, but it worked exactly like it should. A good night's sleep is usually won in my case!

Anyways. The doubts are still stalking me. I'm worried. Unsure. But going at it slowly and trying to think less about the scary signs and more about the tools I can use and the people that need me.

And if I fall on my ass... at least their the smoother rocks and we know exactly what to do if I do.

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!

Still Here

Tomorrow the hubster foiled my would-be attempt by having my dad drop by the apartment unannounced. My dad took care of BB while I slept most of the afternoon (or laid in the dark contemplating new strategies) and until the hubby got home that evening.

Apparently the hubster got me into a drug trial down in Portland. Since things with ECT have slowed down because of needing that EKG and bloodwork (which seems so simple) he wanted to act more quickly.

Feeling broken. Broken and split. I can feel that my brain isn't working. Part of me feels like ending my life is the best thing for everyone involved. Part of me sees the illness and a life worth living as separate... as the hubster was having me say last night, "I'm out of my mind." That bout covers it.

One day at a time. Gonna be under supervision for foreseeable future. Can't blame them considering I was driving in the rain without my windshield wipers on going 55 in the right lane completed spaced yesterday...

Life is messy right now.


Had a few interesting dreams and stories to share-maybe later. My head hurts and food must be consumed.

Be well.

Bittersweet Romance

I found myself crying on the toilet last night.

After Baby Bananaface had gone to bed the hubster and I found ourselves talking about our past. Our courtship. Our memories. Maybe, more accurately, his memories. I couldn't remember the vast majority of events, moments, excursions, and sweet nothings that he described.

My memory loss usually only comes up in passing. Often, I will feel bad about not remembering such cherished stories. Sometimes, he will feel frustrated and sad as well. Rarely, he lets it show and last night was one of those nights.

Our chat continued into the bedroom and into the darkness. At one point bringing us to the topic of love notes. Apparently I wrote many in our early days and the hubby keeps most of them in a little box. He brought out he box and we sifted through them all.

It was a bittersweet exercise. Seeing all those notes and doodles and revisiting that era of new love. Reading about our adventures as well as the struggles. The hubster describing the sparse furniture featured in our first apartment. My apologies for symptoms of yet-diagnosed disorders.

I could count on one hand the things I actually remembered. After we had read them all he asked, "Did that jog any memories?" I shook my head and shrugged, "Not really. No." My eyes teared up and his brow furrowed. He tried to comfort me and tell me that some of the memories could still back. Grief was in his eyes and lumped in my throat.

Rolling over in the bed, I excused myself and trudged to the bathroom. Tears gathered on my cheeks before I cleared the hallway. By the time I finished peeing I was smothering sudden short-lived sobs.

It was a brief, deep grieving. In that moment I wasn't just acknowledging the loss, I was recognizing the countless moments over the past couple years that the hubs had accommodated my memory loss, supplied information, or concealed his own frustrations and sadness. We try not to spend too much time thinking on it and that seems to work alright-most of the time.

Most of the time.

We're okay with that.

Even if we don't have the memories to share, we still have the love.

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)

A Few Things

A) Had a happy anniversary yesterday. There were certainly some "aaagh!" moments (read: potty training & toddler parenting & WTF is a potato doin' tasting like that) and overall it was a good day.

I got the chores done that I wanted to and when the hubs came home I felt like I had "made the home" for him. I had on a dress I know he likes and he walked in with a big smile and a nearly-as-big bouquet for me.

Roses-but-not-roses per my usual taste ;o)

We had special steak from the butcher and after dinner we went to Freddy's and checked Baby Bananaface into the childcare for what we hope would be nearly an hour of "us" time strolling about the store with some java.

Well. We've been potty training, as I mentioned, and BB started dropping the "potty" word. We got paged. I went through the trouble of taking him to the bathroom and stripping down his bottom half to get him on the toilet. He just ran around bare-assed, giggling and evading the pants in my hands.

Yuck-y. Washed those socks right when we got home. *facepalm*

Ended the evening wrapped in fuzzy throws on the couch watching some "Forged in Fire" and mumbling on in pleasant, exhausted conversation littered with tangents...

B)  Let the record show:

I can't remember exactly what I was "right" about.... that's not as important as the hubster's words immortalized on video! (Hoping it plays right... me/technology/ack)


C) I know we got some fellow word nerds around here and I'm wondering what the thoughts and feels are about this bit of internet discussion:

It's apart of economic bulimia, society binges on all of the latest and greatest trends, resulting in a purge into landfills. So they can consume again ostentatiously trying to manifest some artificial semblance of happiness.

Some of the word choices perked my eyebrow. I agree with the gist, there's just something about the delivery that scrunches my brow. Thoughts?

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)

Highlights AKA Lots of Pics

Been ups and downs like usual around here. I think there have been slightly more ups though :o) Here are some pics from some of the ups!

Father's Day involved sticky buns and strawberry pickin'. I made a pound cake and strawberry sauce for the BBQ that afternoon after we went pickin' just no pics of that :o)

BB wasn't impressed w/ the tractor ride

A different day involved letting a slug nibble on my hand and then my cousin recommended a Slug Fest at a local(ish) wild life park called NW Trek. We had fun and BB was sure exhausted after our adventure! Saw lots of animals though... elk,  caribou, black tail deer, bighorn sheep, moose, swans, geese, snowy owl, barn owl, lynx, black bear, fisher, porcupine, sea otters, beavers, raccoons, opossum... maybe more. Oddly enough, no slugs. :o(

Special cool down treat kept him going!

Then he crashed after making his slug
tentacle hat. Fell asleep not 5 min away!

My Husband, His Father

Couldn't have dreamed of a better father for my son.... here's some random shots from the past couple years :o)

The hubster finding out we're preggers...

Father & son at baby's first checkup 

I'm sure there are gonna be lots of these types of shots! #chillax

Standards

I have shared here before about the hubster's 51%-er philosophy and I've seen it coming up a lot lately as I break into my new CrossFit routine.

The philosophy refers to a typical pass/fail standard; 51% or better is passing. As I've lived most of my life with a 98% or better point of view, trying to adopt the 51%-er perspective is quite difficult! It does offer more opportunities for me to build my self-worth and nurture better self-esteem.

Looking back on my life, I have recognized that a lot of my misery originated from my 98%-er attitude. I was frequently disappointed in myself when I didn't meet my personal standard or expectations put before me. When I did excel or achieve something specific, often it was never quite enough. I think that if I had been better equipped to appreciate my efforts I would've been much happier and healthier.

I can't really go back and change my past. I certainly try to adjust my opinions whenever I happen upon a feeling of disappointment. For instance, when I was recently talking with a friend I described how I graduated high school with an AA and a GPA of 3.98, then earned my BA when I was 20 with a GPA of 3.57. Despite earning my degrees "early" and with higher-than-average grades, I struggle with feelings of disappointment and shame. Why couldn't I have graduated with 4.0s? Why didn't I plan ahead for a specific career and better prepare myself for entering the workforce when I graduated college? Why didn't I apply for a MA program and pursue my desires to teach and edit?

I could dissect this all day! I no longer see that as very effective. Analysis doesn't necessarily help me move forward and improve my quality of life. Instead, I try to embrace the 51%-er lifestyle.

Qualifying life experiences by percentages isn't always easy or clear or appropriate. With my academic history I feel comfortable saying that I did 51% or better. As far as my "career," I'm less confident in claiming a 51% or better "grade" although I'm not homeless, so I'll say "good enough." No need to feel shame (not that failing deserves shame either).

If I ever do go back to school I know that I'll do my best and strive for high marks. Nowadays, I'm not gonna punish myself and chip away at my self-worth if I don't get a 4.0. It's not worth it and it ain't a 51%-er way of lookin' at things ;o)

ANYWAYS. Back to CrossFit.

It's tough. It's new. It's meant to always challenge you to venture out of your comfort zones. It's meant to make you fail.

Failure isn't something I'm very comfortable with! As a historically 98%-er type o' gal, failure is feared and a one-way ticket to crumbling self-worth and eroding self-esteem. Now, as I try to embrace a 51%-er perspective, I am coming to view failure as an opportunity to build resiliency and learn. Not only is this a good way to progress in CrossFit, it's a healthier way to progress in life.

I used to think that life was something you could fail. That enough failures would ultimately confirm my worthlessness and strip me of any right to partake in life. Now? Not so much. Now I see failure as a natural and essential part of life. There is no limit on how many times you can fail. The important part is to keep trying.

That said. I will go to the thoroughly intimidating workout tomorrow and do my damnedest. 51% or better and I'll be thrilled ;o)


Happy Memorial Day to my American compatriots and happy weekend to everyone!

THE SUNNNNNNNN!!!!! (Yay/Yikes)

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.

A picture and a slightly inappropiate story...

This may offend certain folks. To my hubby and I it was a rather hilarious moment and conversation!

The hubster came home and as we were chatting he came around to talking about lunch.

"We went to Whole Foods for lunch. Can you guess my total?"

I guessed $13.74. My favorite number is 13 and nearly every time he asks me to guess his total it's 13-something.

His raised his eyebrows and replied, "Close! It was $13.00 even!"

Handing me the receipt with a smirk, he picked up Baby Bananaface and put him into the play area.

"Hmmm." I said. "Normally when I see that my husband went to a "HOT BAR" I would be a bit suspicious-"

"As if anything would happen at a "HOT BAR" for $13.00," he laughed.

"There's some skanky hoes out there! Chlamydia could happen for $13.00." We both laughed and shook our heads.

As I swallowed a mouthful of sparkling water the hubster continued on to say, "Huh. $13.00 and a 50/50 chance of chlamydia!"

I felt myself begin to laugh out loud and tried to hold it back but couldn't. I leaned forward and spurted sparkling water all over my dinner plate. The bubbles crackled and popped, water dripping down my chin. When I opened my eyes I saw a ring of puddles and mist all around my plate and onto the table.

He laughed even harder and I joined in.

Maybe not the most... respectable conversation but it sure felt good to laugh so hard together. I love those oddball, unanticipated moments of coming together in laughter and joy!

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)

Climbing...

Today I woke up in a better place. I started my day off on a better footing. My kindness and self-validation is returning. I'm feeling calmer and less afraid, less sad, worthless, and weak.

I think part of my upswing has to do with a conversation the hubster and I had last night. He started by pointing out how serious things were getting. That I didn't seem to be fighting back against the dark logic like I had been in previous blips. That we had to get on top of things and stop this from becoming a full-fledged episode.

After some hemming and hawing from me, lots of apologies and guilt and shame, he launched into a sort of monologue/rant (not usually his style). He said something along the lines of, "You should be proud. Not ashamed. Not guilty. You should be proud that you are here. You should be proud of how far you have come and what you have done, not just for yourself but for us, for your family. You don't have to feel guilty about all that time in the hospital or all the treatments or all the therapy. You should be proud of all the hard work you have done and all the tough times we have come through together. You would have done the same for me, I know you would've. We are moving forward and you don't need to look back and feel guilt or shame about all that we went through. That's the past. We're here and we're moving forward. Do you get that?"

I do get it. What he said did resonate with me. While it's still hard to internalize and really believe it in my bones, it's something I want to work toward accepting and integrating into my being. I'm a survivor. Sure, that means I've been through some shit and it's definitely been a costly, difficult journey, but it also means that I'm strong. I'm skilled. I'm dedicated. I love my family and friends and worked hard to stick around for them.

And that's worth being proud of.

Just like everything else I've worked toward, I'm gonna work those baby steps. One day at a time I'm gonna cultivate that pride. Planting those seeds and no matter how long it takes, I'm gonna get them growing. I'll never stop busting my ass to be better, to stay healthy, to be here for those I love and this is just the next leg of that journey.

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

Quick Update

Saw the neurologist today. He was nice. Scheduled an EEG and MRI. Got a prescription for some anti-seizure meds which also happen to be mood stabilizers. I messaged with my psychiatrist and she said go right ahead. This particular script didn't work for me before but it's been so long, who knows, maybe it'll work better this time around?

Lots of feelings today. I kept at it and stuck to my schedule but it was definitely discouraging for me contemplating having a seizure disorder on top of the things I'm already juggling. The hubs is trying to look at the bright side and made sure to point out that dealing with seizures is better than dealing with suicidal depression. Poor guy. I can't imagine seeing him in a similar scenario, it'd be so distressing to me, but he keeps up the good fight no matter what comes up.

In other news, we're headed out on another weekend road trip. Hopefully I can relax and enjoy, that's certainly my aim.

Holiday cards are going out :o) I had fun with all the addressing and stuffing and sticking. Maybe I was a secretary in a previous life? ;o)

Rollin' With It

This weekend was a bit different than anticipated due to unforeseen events, mainly, my husband's best friend's dad dying.


I remember the hubbo coming out of the bathroom Wednesday or Thursday with his phone in hand, a funny look on his face. I had been filling out and addressing his best friend's birthday card to be mailed that afternoon and requested that he sign it.

"You might need to make a different card," he said, looking down.

"What do you mean? What's going on?"

He shook his head and sighed. I began to feel concerned.

"What is going on? Please tell me what is going on." I tried to pry an explanation from him but he remained quiet. I took a stab in the dark, "Who died?"

Tears gathered in his eyes and he sucked in a fast, deep breath as sobs burbled forth. He managed to tell me it was his best friend's dad that had died as we came together in a hug. I felt him crying in my arms and between the shock of the news and empathy for him and his friend I felt a profound sense of gratitude that I could be there for him in this moment. There had been so many moments when I wouldn't have been able to offer comfort or support over the past year and change, but that afternoon I felt solidly grounded in my ability to be a partner and wife.

I think all that we've been through postpartum and the thought of our own parents dying made the news hit closer to home but things became even more emotional when we learned that his friend's dad had died by suicide. After being so close to that experience ourselves having a friend go through it... just wow. It's still amazing to me in a terribly sad way.

The hubbo wanted to attend the service, driving over 4 hours there and back in one day. At first I thought that we'd all be going but then we decided it would be a better idea for him to do the trek on his own and me and Baby Bananaface to hang at my parents'. Thankfully they were in town and able to accommodate our needs although they had a busy Saturday of their own. I was able to integrate into their schedule and they were able to give me the support that I needed while being in charge of BB "on my own" for the day.

It was a stressful, tiring weekend but there were perks along the way: being able to support the hubster, spending time with my family, having dinner out with just me and my siblings. The hubs and I were even able to get home early enough Sunday for me to hit up yoga class! A challenging but rewarding weekend. Here are some pics:

Today was pretty tiring too. I'm feeling that last minute rush before Thanksgiving and the backed up laundry from our impromptu weekend journey ain't helping the situation! Gym classes were good though and it didn't rain, which was a nice surprise perk.

My tired brain has lost track of where I was going with this, so I'll leave this post here and call it good.

If I don't post again before then, Happy Thanksgiving to all celebrating. We are headed over to my in-laws and very much looking forward to our holiday time. I hope everyone has a restful, fun, and delicious day!

Ornaments & Random Facebook Quiz

Here's a picture of one of the ornaments I wrote:

The extra small stuff if challenging but one of my favorite aspects of the job! After I'm done putting the words on the next person adds dots. You can look at other ornaments at the website PersonalizedFree.com.

Here's a random quiz I did with the hubster for some giggles. He wasn't comfortable with me posting it on Facebook (like my friend that I got it from had) but he said I could post here. Guess he like y'all more than my Facebook friends ;o)

WITHOUT prompting, ask your significant other these questions and write EXACTLY what they say. The outcome can be hilarious!!!

•What is something I always say?
- *sigh* What's something you think that you always say? I don't know. My memory is bad the moment, okay?

•What makes me happy?
- Dad jokes and drawing.

•What makes me sad?
- *Depression.

•How tall am I?
- 5'7"

•What's my favorite thing to do?
- Uh, favorite thing to do... look at waterfalls.

•What do I do when you're not around?
- *chuckles* Listen to NPR.

•If I become famous, what will it be for?
- Writing.

•What makes you proud of me?
- Tenacity.

•What is my favorite food?
- Ooh... Indian.

•What is my favorite restaurant?
- Saffron.

•Where is my favorite place to visit?
- *beffuddled stare* Probably Bellingham?

•If I could go anywhere, where would it be?
- Iceland.

•How do I annoy you?
- You rub your feet in the bed.

•What is my favorite movie?
- "You've Got Mail"

•You get a phone call that I am in trouble, who am I with?
- Your mother.

Gonna work on "Words for Wednesday" tomorrow and hopefully have something to post then. Happy Hump Day everyone!

What to post, what to post?

I have been staying the course, plugging away day by day. I think I've been doing pretty well even though I've still had ye olde panic attacks and anxiety throughout, it's been a little less severe. Life has still been challenging but I'm proud of making some positive progress and also grateful for the bit of relief!

The shock of the election is starting to settle but it can still be quite emotional and I don't like seeing people so upset. I really hope things turn out better than expected and settle down as opposed to 4 years of emotional turmoil and stress but we shall see. Scrolling Biden/Obama memes certainly helped today, thank you friend!

In other news, the hubster's holiday gig was off and now seems to be back on (?) It's a bit confusing and all "wait and see" but I think tomorrow we're actually going to try out the extra shift and see how things work. I'm less intimidated by the change in routine than I am concerned about the hubbo's well being. He's been pretty crotchety lately and I've been worried about his mood. We did manage to get to a gym class together this weekend and I think that perked him up a little even if he was sore and dripping sweat!

I don't know. I'll just have to stay aware and try to support him as much as I can without beating myself up about my level of ability in that regard at the moment. I can't throw myself under the bus and end up relapsing and causing even more problems for us all. Sometimes it feels like I'm balancing on one leg while juggling as I try to push myself and build resilience but also maintain stability and wellness, but that's just where things are at the moment!

Been enjoying the holiday ornament work and even though the owner can be stressful I'm aware that she's a worrier and know that she can be triggering so I can usually skirt disaster and keep my mood stable even when she's stressin'. I really do enjoy the routine of working through the ornaments and the challenge of fitting the words into tiny spaces-so glad I happened to find this gig all those years ago!

So there's a little update :o) Gonna try and do "Words for Wednesday" this week too but we'll see what my brain churns out. Haven't been posting as much as I'd like to lately but I've been trying to keep up with reading and commenting. Doin' what I can and that's all right! *inner hugs*

Sign of the times

Times are a-changin'! Here's the story...

The hubby had some big news Thursday night; he had an interview the next morning for a holiday gig at UPS to be squeezed in in the wee hours of the morning before his "real job." If he got it, it would entail me taking care of Baby Bananaface in the mornings and getting him to daycare on my own (big change). More immediately, he needed me to take care of BB the next morning so he could get to the interview.

Instantly I felt the panic lurking in my system. I felt the fear boiling up like big storm clouds within me. I managed to keep a relative cool (no panic attacks or tears) and coped with the news even though part of me was running around like a chicken with her head cut off. I've had extremely limited solo parenting time lately and taking care of BB can be a highly stressful proposition for me.

Yesterday morning the hubs got up and went to his interview early in the morning and I managed to get me and BB to our respective places (daycare and gym) on time and in order. It was a big shift in routine for me and while part of me wasn't sure if I was up to it I think a larger part of me knows that I can handle more hands-on parenting now.

That said, the fear is still there. I worry about taking on too much and setting myself up for a big fall mood-wise. I even feel a little part of me resisting the call to action and increase in responsibilities. It's embarrassing to admit but part of me that wants to stay in the patient role and not bother working up to handling what I used to handle. That shameful, whiny part is one thing but a larger part of me wants to regain the ability I had, the more balanced partnership with my husband and confidence that comes from partaking in life with more vigor and commitment.

The fact that the hubby would even consider applying for a gig like this and think that I'm capable of taking care of BB in the mornings on my own is a huge sign of the changin' times and progress I've made. Even though I recognize this, it's difficult for me to believe in myself and have faith that I'm strong enough to manage. I'm still in a place where I feel on the edge of disaster, fragile, and unreliable. Even as I say that, I know that I've made progress and that I'm stronger and part of this transition back to wellness is waiting for my confidence to build up again. It just takes time.

So while I'm navigating that transition and juggling solo parenting in the mornings (he got the gig) I will have to commit myself even more to managing my fear and giving myself credit. It freaks me out a bit but I also feel like it's a major opportunity to prove myself, to step up and reach for what I value. I really do want to help support my family and my husband and engage more with BB again; I've just been out of practice for a long time and harboring a lot of fear about getting back up to speed.

The hubster knows I'm afraid and he knows it's a big change but he believes in me and is also very assertive about the fact that if things don't work out he can easily drop the extra job, no worries.

Other than worrying about myself I'm also worrying a lot about him. He's already running ragged and not taking very good care of himself with his current level of responsibilities. I don't want him to get sick or not being getting enough sleep or injure himself wrestling packages.

I know he wouldn't be doing this unless we really needed the help financially (I don't get the full picture there, he takes care of that business and we keep me in the dark for now-he says we're squeaking by and just need more breathing room) and I know that if he can't balance things he will pull the plug, so I'm trying to trust in his judgment and not fret too much about him.

He's a grown ass man that knows his own limits! But oh, how I love him and wish things were easier <3

SO there's the story. I think it's a good sign that I'm making progress and hopefully tackling the challenge will give me a boost in confidence. It looks like we might be in for some exhausting weeks this holiday season, but as the hubster says, "It's temporary!"

Ooh, reminds me that I need to work on registering for my winter quarter class-gotta order ye olde transcripts! Times are certainly a-changin' and while it's scary, I also feel a little pride that I'm stepping out and getting back into the fray. I might not be 100% but I'm doing a helluva lot better than I was just a few months ago.

Feel like my baby steps are changing into something bigger, but I'm not sure what to call them... well, whatever they are it's progress!