~A Bitter Swallow~

 


Today was one of those beautiful Northwest days.  The kind that catches those tourists who happen to come at the right time, and reels them in.  It was sunny, warm but not hot (it IS still Sping).  I took a walk this late morning, down to the Farmer's Market.  The air was still chilly enough to warrant a sweater, but the day was bright.  The sky a stark turquoise, the water deep blue. As I walked down the hill I watched white boat sails slice through the ocean, the sun twinkling so much off the waters, I almost feared it would give me a migraine.   I came home empty handed.  I hadn't really figured I'd be buying anything today.  It was the walk I was after.  Down the hill, around the market, and back up the hill.  A Little League baseball game or three was going on at the park, so it was neat to listen to the crack of the bat hitting the ball, and the cheers of the audience as the players ran the bases, or made the catch or throw.  

The kids were up when I got home, so we made banana -chocolate -chip pancakes and bacon for a late breakfast. Then we tackled cleaning the garage and mowing the lawn.  That got done much sooner than I had expected, but it was entirely too nice outside to go inside.  Instead, my son brought a chair, table, and my laptop outside to work on his homework.  My daughter and I just lounged around on the grass, soaking in the sun.  We don't see much of that sun thing around here.  It is a must to take advantage of it when it shows up.  

After awhile, the day was just too nice to sit around, and the kids got up and started playing with sticks and branches, sword-fighting each other.  Then the frisbee came out, and the three of us dashed around, throwing and catching it.  I. Suck. At. Frisbee.   I cannot throw it properly to save my life.  It made for quite a few belly laughs.  My daughter was throwing it to tear people's fingers off if they tried to catch it, so instead my son and I would tend to dodge her throws.  My son, as tall as he is, kept throwing it over the fence, and then would have to run and get it.

One of my favorite things to do during these sunny days is to just close my eyes and listen to the sounds.   Especially the birdsong. I love listening to them tweet and chirp and sing to one another, answering each other.  It is so beautiful and freeing.  I love the other sounds, too:  someone running a lawnmower, the aforementined crack of the baseball bat and cheers of the crowd, young children running and laughing as they play somewhere, the sizzle of a grill and the clink of ice in the glass, bees buzzing from flower to flower...  It all takes me back to when I was young.  To the days when I was a child, running through the park with my friends, giving birds the cats had gotten burials, playing superheroes, lying on a fallen tree trunk in a field with the sway of the tall dry grasses around me, or sunning on a large boulder at Rocky Mountain next to the snakes.   Back in the days when I had nothing to care about or worry about, other than making it home in time for dinner.  Back when things were uncomplicated. 

I really hope that my children are developing memories like that.  It is my goal this year to not be indoors on nice days.  I want to make it a point to take absolute full advantage of nice weather when we get it.  Even it that just means standing outside badly throwing frisbees at each other.  The computers and Ipods and Kindles and video games will still be inside when the sun goes down.

  I tried my hand at making some homemade laundry soap today.   4 ingredients and I got about 2 gallons worth of laundry soap.  Supposedly it only takes about 1/2 cup of soap per load, and works super well.  I've yet to try it out, since I had started the only load of laundry I have already this morning.  So, I'll have to update that part later.  I've heard good things though, so I'm kind of excited. 

  See the entire post here, complete with walk-thru pictures:  One Good Thing
Take a look around her blog, too.  It's got some great stuff!!


What you need:

1 bar of soap.  I used Ivory.
1 cup borax
1 cup washing soda
8 cups hot water, plus lots more


What you do:

I highly recommend you have all of your soap, borax, and washing soda measured out and ready to go before starting.

Grate the bar of soap into a large pot.  Add the 8 cups of hot water and bring to a slow boil.  Keep an eye on this, because once it starts to boil, it foams up a lot!!  I turned around to measure the washing soda and it boiled over on me. 

Add the borax and washing soda.  Return to a boil.  Remove from stove. 

Divide between two containers.  I used old, mostly rinsed out laundry soap containers I still had.  The blogger I got this from used rinsed out gallon-sized orange juice containers.   The division doesn't have to be exact.  Once the soap is divided between the two containers, fill them the remainder of the way with water. 

Top the containers and shake well.  Shake before each use. 

That's it!!



Like I mentioned,  I haven't used it yet.  I will update this post once I do!  

  I told myself (and a couple others) that I wasn't going to write on this anymore.  I knew when I said it I was lying.  My pants were so on fire.  I can't just stop.  The magma of my mind needs to spew every once in awhile.  This is (one of the places) where I spew it.  I have come to the conclusion that, although sometimes knowing of people who read what I have to say here might make me uncomfortable, they still read it and they still talk to me.  So, that has to count for something. 

  Yesterday I was talking to my boyfriend about my depression.  It's hard on those around you.  They tend to view something amiss in themselves that someone they love should feel so utterly hopeless.  They think they are doing something wrong, or that they in and of themselves are the worthless one.  It's very  difficult to explain that sometimes they are the one ray of sunshine in an otherwise bleak world.   

  While trying to convey this to him yesterday it dawned on me why this last bout of depression was so overwhelming, and worse than other times before.  Every other time my depression got bad, I got medicated.   This time, I did not.  Before, I always had my anti-depressant / anti-anxiety med to help ease the burden a bit.  The darkness was still there, just not as thick or oppressive.  

Upon realizing this, I started to think that maybe going back on my meds was the way to go.  But then I thought, but I beat it this time.  All. By. My. Self.   Well, I wouldn't have without the love and support of my friends and family, but still.  Pill Free.   That made me feel pretty damn good.  But wait, there's more!!  Then I thought... well, but what if next time it's even worse, and I don't beat it.  What if it wins?  

Shit.

So, the debate still battles within my mind:  Medicate?  Or no? 
 

With all my previous bouts with depression, the one thing that separated me from the norms (considering the level of "depressed" I rated based off of their tests) was that I never contemplated suicide.  Jumping in my car and driving until I ran out of gas, then hopping on a bus until it stopped- yes.  But suicide, no.  I always felt that suicide was a cop-out, and the most selfish thing anyone could ever, ever do.  I still do.  Of course, back then I had others around me who made me feel wanted.  I felt like there were people I could turn to, people I could talk to, people who would actually miss me if I left like that. 

I guess that's what scares me the most this time around.  I don't feel like I have those people anymore.  I don't feel like anyone would be particularly upset, at least not for very long.  It would be more of an "Oh, well that sucks..." and then life would move on.  Suicide has entered my thoughts on many occasions this go-around.  I just don't see the purpose of being here.  I don't have a purpose.  

Other than my kids.  Many parents say that their kids are their life.  And I'm sure that they mean it.  But I wonder how many of them are as literal as "My kids are why I am still alive"?  Because my kids are the only reason I haven't acted on those contemplations.  When I get really down and to that point, I see their faces, and wonder what would happen to them if I were to take the coward's way out.  And I can't do it. 

Many parents say that they would give up their life for their kids.   I am giving up my death for them. 

I'm not sure if that's honorable or not. 

  I'm having a very hard time dealing with the depression this time around.  I'm sure I've already mentioned that to death, but it is just getting worse and worse.  My "Daily Challenge" this morning was to list 5 positive traits about myself.  I seriously couldn't even think of one.  I don't know one good quality about myself.  I seem to fail at everything I try to do.  I have no motivation, no purpose, no willpower, no courage, no self-esteem, nothing.  I have become bitter, fat, and emotionally removed.    

  I am a horrible girlfriend.  There are issues about myself that I just can't seem to push past no matter how much I try.  I try to be who I think I'm suppose to be, but I just can't force myself to do things that make me feel so much worse about myself.  I know it's not normal.  I know it's not healthy.  But it's there and I can't seem to fix it.

  I try to dig myself out.  I try to tell myself "You deserve to be happy."  But I don't believe it. I try to smile, to make myself keep a "sunny disposition", but it feel so fake on my face.  It must look more like a sneer than a smile.  I don't believe I deserve to be happy.  I don't know why, but I don't.  Whenever I genuinely smile, that little voice in my head is right there questioning what I think I'm doing.  What have I done to deserve that little moment of joy?   And then there it goes- vanishing just as quickly as it came.  Faster, actually.

I don't necessarily have the best "past", but I don't have anything that I feel should have led to the level of self-loathing that I have come to.  I don't see anything that I feel responsible for the attitudes and thought-processes I have towards certain things.  I don't find anything that is substantial enough to justify the way I am.  I just am. 

And everyday I seem to come across more and more that prove just how unworthy and unwanted I am.  I am tolerated.  I am convenient.  I am "okay for now".    It's really hard for me to try and work on justifying my desire for happiness and normalcy when I keep being shown that I'm not.  

  I've known pain for a long time.  I would not call us "friends", but we are definitely close acquaintances.  We know each other well.  I've always had headaches.  Sometimes they were really, really bad, but mostly they were just an annoying dull ache that would enshroud my head in a fog for days on end.  They would flare up in areas, and cause spots to dance across my vision.  Tunnel vision or "stars" are good indicators that I should just go curl up somewhere and take the day off, regardless of what I had planned. 

 Then, when I was pregnant with my second child (Monkey), I started experiencing a pain in my left shoulder.   At first I attributed it to being pregnant.  I was carrying a lot of new weight, and working full time, so I figured it was just having a toll on my muscles.  I would take warm showers and try to just relax, figuring it would get better once the baby was born. But it didn't.  Instead, it would start to radiate a shooting, cold ice fire down my arm, and into my hand.  That arm would get weak.  As time went by, it wouldn't be uncommon for me to suddenly drop whatever I was holding in that hand, because it would just simply let go without me knowing until hot coffee was spilling down my side.  

Some days it wouldn't hurt at all.  Other days it would get so bad that I couldn't turn my head.  It is like my entire left side would just lock up.  It spreads from my eye, through the side of my head, down my neck into my shoulder and all around my shoulder blade, then down my arm through my inside elbow and down into my hand.  I flex my hand often when it is acting up. 

I tried to talk to different doctors I've had about it.  Most of them just dismissed it, or handed me a prescription for Vicodin and muscle relaxers.  I was not there to get drugs, and looking back I wonder if that's what they thought I was after.  I didn't want the damn drugs, and I told them that, but how many times do they get the person in there complaining of phantom pains and telling them they really aren't there for the drugs while asking for them.  No, I didn't want drugs;  I wanted answers.  I still want answers.  One doctor sent me to a physical therapist.  I only got to go for a few weeks before I lost my insurance and had to stop due to lack of funds.  Another doctor (the only one who showed any real interest in actually figuring out the cause and not just doping me up) actually sent me in for X-rays.  If that came back with nothing he had planned on sending me for other tests, but I lost that insurance, too, and had to stop seeing him before we could do any further investigating (the x-rays showed nothing out of the ordinary). 

Then it started to spread more.  Instead of concerning itself with only my left side, sometimes it will jump over to my right side as well.  It also decided that sticking just to my limbs and shoulders was not enough, and will cause severe stiffness and aches right along my spine.  The strange thing is it does not feel like it's in the muscles, but in the bone itself.  It makes me sick to my stomach. 

I'm not sure if the migraines (headaches) are related to the pain, or if the pain is related to the migraines.  I don't always have a headache when the pain in my shoulder starts, but I will always wind up with one.  Whether the pain is a precursor or aura to the migraine, or if the stress of the pain causes the migraine, I do not know.  All I know is that I've never met a pain medication or muscle relaxer that has touched it.  Massage only works while I'm being massaged.  It's back within minutes of the massage being over. 

It seriously incapacitates me sometimes.  I can't move.  The worst part, though, is what it does to my head.  Not the painful part, but my mind.  I get so completely disoriented when the pain is bad. I cannot think, or remember.  It takes me an awful long time to process simple things, and no way will I understand anything you have to explain to me.  I can literally take two steps, and not remember where I am going or where I came from.  It's really hard if I'm trying to function at work this way.  For awhile, I would take sick leave, but it happens too frequently for me to do that anymore.  I just have to push my way through it and try to appear normal.  Sometimes I wonder if people look at me funny.  Do I look like I'm on something?  It can make me a little delirious at times.  The pain affects my brain funny.  Sometimes it's a matter of either give into it and just act goofy and let the delirium take some of the edge off, or curl into a ball in a corner somewhere and cry.  That isn't necessarily an option while I'm at work (though I will admit it has happened). 

I'm hoping to get in with a new doctor's office soon.  I've heard good things about them and I am hoping that they will help me try and figure out what is going on and how to deal with it.  I've heard people say things like pinched nerves or fibromyalgia.  Both are things that fit very closely with what I feel (from what I've read), but lack specific details (like painful touching with fibromyalgia.  I do not have sensitive spots that I know of).   It would be nice to be pain-free though.  To not have to worry about it anymore. 

  I've been having a hard time battling my depression lately.  It's been rearing and roaring so loudly that I can barely hear anything else.  I've tried to smile through it, to tell myself that all of these painful things that I notice are just a phantom of the depression; a trick to lure me into its dark and waiting grip.  I've spent months working on myself- inside and out.  I've taken on healthier eating habits, and starting paying more attention to getting exercise.  Neither are to the extreme.  I still indulge in a chocolate chip cookie or two when my daughter makes them, and I spend my evenings and weekends more idle than I probably technically "should", but I am not depriving myself of things I "enjoy".  I make myself smile.  I focus on keeping the muscles of my face relaxed, especially my jaw.  I make sure to keep my shoulders relaxed, too.   I smile, and tell myself I deserve to smile. 

  But as of late, it feels like such a horrible lie.  I can't help but notice these painful things, because they are true.  They aren't a figment of some delusional mental disease that strives to make me feel bad.   They simply are. 

  There are times that I wish I could just run away.  There are days when I wish my children were still little, so I could just pack up a couple of suitcases, hop on a train, and just go somewhere where no one knows me and I don't know anyone.   Of course, even if my kids were little, I couldn't go.  I couldn't do that to them.  It is a nice fantasy, but nothing more.  I could never take them away from their father like that.  I couldn't let my hang-ups and past (present) failures pull them away from their lives and affect them suchly.  It would only cause them to hate me, and move in with their father.  Then I would lose them, too, and what would I have left to live for?  They are, by all means, my life support.  I would be lost without them.  Meaningless and purposeless.  They are why I live.

  But, that life still feels marred.  Irreparably damaged.  I have these giant parasites living within me, eating away at my insides.  They have been feeding for so long that I don't imagine there is much left-  only that sustenance that my children being near me gives me.  I fear that soon they will begin to worm their way through my skin, letting the world see the gaping sores that fill my being.  They will fester and ooze, infected and decaying. 

 
  I try to focus on doing things that I enjoy:  writing, crafting, baking...  But none of these feel fun anymore.  I have no desire to do them.  No motivation.  Instead, I prefer to just hide withing the pages of a book or the pixilated lives of a game; to escape into some other world.  I don't want to socialize anymore. I've tried that.  I've tried putting myself out there- trying to include myself in the lives of those I love, only to be overlooked; forgotten.  Or, even worse, ignored.   They don't want me there. I can see that.  I can only be shunned for so long before I wisen up and get the point.  It makes me feel so stupid.  So stupid. 

    
It is hard to feel invisible. To feel forgotten and discarded. An oversight; an afterthought.


I will continue to put on a happy face.  To hide the inner demon from showing itself in public.  To protect my kids, and to function in society.  But I have decided to stop trying to put myself out there.  To practically beg for attention and inclusion.  I can't live that lie.  Trying is only making it more obvious to me, and that is just too hard... the cuts too deep.   I won't do that anymore. 

I like monsters.  So I decided to make one.  =)

Just thought you'd like to meet him!  He also got me to use my sewing machine... for real!!  =) 

Yay, Buddy!