~A Bitter Swallow~

 Continuing on with the "I AM" statements using the alphabet- an idea I found over at Inside Insights.  This week’s letter is the letter “D”.

I Am.. Depressed.  

You didn’t see that one coming, did you?  I know it doesn’t sound very “affirmation-y”.   I am, though. Right now. I have actually put off writing this post all day because of it.  I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to deal with discussing it- even (especially) with myself.  I still don’t think I am, but it’s time to tackle it. 

 I’ve battled with depression for a very long time now. Something in my brain isn’t quite wired right-  the chemicals are off or whatever- and it wreaks havoc on my thought patterns. That in turn snowballs down into a plethora of other ailments/symptoms/whathaveyou that I’m not going to go into here.  I have good days. I have bad days.  Sometimes I have really bad days, and sometimes I’ll have a really good day.  What I have come to realize though, is that the best way for me to pull through these bad bouts is to recognize and acknowledge when I’m having these slumps.  In a way- I treat it like you would (should) any other abuser-  look them in the eye, let them know you recognize them for what they are, and even though you may not be able to get away from them right now- you are going to fight them- rather than continue to keep your head down and take the abuse and believe the lies.  

That’s not to say I always win- because I don’t.  There are some days where the best I can do is get out of bed and make my coffee. Maybe bury myself in a book or movie or some video games.  It does help me keep from giving up though, and it helps to continue fighting, and it helps me continue to challenge the terrible things my brain likes to tell me.  So, going off my themes of staying accepting, breathing, and staying calm…  I’m accepting the fact that I’m currently depressed, and that depression is something I battle.  I am breathing through it and remaining (as much as I can) calm. When those thoughts start going through my head, instead of giving in, I’m making more of an effort to stop and identify them. To actually speak aloud and say “This is Depression talking.”  Then I can break that thought-cycle, and either redirect it onto something positive, or just distract it with something else.  The goal right now is to just recognize, identify, and break the thought-pattern.  

Which leads me to my second “D” word for this week, because I’m not actually going to leave it on just the word “depressed”.  

I Am Deserving. 

This is one of the things my depression likes to tell me I’m not.  That I don’t deserve good things.  I want to challenge that idea head-on, and say that yes  I do deserve good things.  I deserve good things to happen to me.  I deserve to be happy.  I deserve to be able to feel the way I feel and not judge myself for it, and fuck anyone else who judges me for it.  I deserve to love and be loved.   I deserve to find peace in my home, in my mind, in my body, and in my soul.  And yes, sometimes things are still going to be (are) overwhelming, and I’m going to cry and bitch and vent about them.  But I deserve to do that on my terms, not on depression’s terms. 

  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? 
 

  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 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 have noticed that since I actually started using Facebook on a regular, daily basis, my blogging has been flushed right down the toilet.  I put little thoughts on Facebook, so blogging feels a bit redundant.  Everyone who reads this is on my Facebook (at least as far as I know), so you've already heard it!   The stuff that doesn't make it on Facebook, well..  I was taught the whole "If you can't say anything nice, then don't say anything at all.." idea.   So, yeeeaaahhh......   Then I also have the guilt associated with feeling like if I am in a mood for writing, then it should be focused on my story, and not a stupid blog.  

  That said, I'm going to whine for awhile.  It's fair warning, so you can bolt now and save your ears. 

  I've turned into such a cynical person.  I didn't use to be like this.  I use to be a very optimistic, trusting, loving person.  I always saw the good in people, and judged off the good, not what I perceived to be the bad.  I don't know where that was lost, but somewhere along the way it went a different way.  My bread crumbs, maybe... eaten up by the crows.   I want it back.  I was much happier when I wasn't so cynical.  When everything was beautiful and full of hope, instead of grey and lacking.

  I know it's a matter of rewiring my thinking.  I need to stop myself when I feel myself thinking negative thoughts. Redirect them to find the positive in the situation, instead.  The problem is:  I've been trying to do that, but there are some things I just don't see any silver lining in at all.  Some use to have some silver, but silver will tarnish if left too long. 

  I'm also having a hard time with working.  Don't get me wrong, I love my job.  I found a wonderful job with an absolutely fantastic group of people.  I didn't think that kind of job existed out there.  But I have it.  Which makes my not wanting to work make me feel even worse, because I know how lucky I am to have it.  I have always been the type of person who preferred the life of a housewife, though.  I don't like having to be somewhere at a specific time/etc...  I hate when I have to miss the kids' stuff because of work, because I have no more sick time or vacation time.  I hate always being sick, and feeling like it's completely stress related.   Some of my happiest times were when I got to be a stay-at-home mom/housewife... cooking, cleaning, etc.  I know it sounds strange, but I really relish in that.  I hate feeling like I have two (three, four) jobs.  I have to work all day, then come home and clean (and sometimes cook), be a mom (which I adore), do laundry, etc etc etc.  But it stresses me out.  When I have down time, I no longer want to get out and do anything, I just want to sink into myself, emerge myself in something mind-numbing (games, no drugs!) and hibernate... hermitize myself.   Then I feel guilty for being unproductive and lazy.  When I stayed home, I was way more productive, and much less stressed out about it.  I could take a complete day off from housework, etc and just go play, and not feel like a jack-ass.  I was a more happy, relaxed person.

  Of course, the days when I was a housewife, I could afford it.  Well, maybe I should rethink that, too, because my ex-husband made just above minimum-wage, and we were fine.  Maybe it's just a matter of rethinking and reevaluating what I deem to be important and necessary in my life.   Where can I pinch and will it really hurt if I do?

 

 Ok.. enough of that off my mind.  Next time I will talk about something less whiny!  Or I'll at least pass out some cheese and crackers to go with it!

I think it might be time to call the doctor and look into getting anti-depressents again. It's been a few years since I've been on them, but I know the signs and symptoms, and it feels like they are coming 'round again.

I am just always tired. I have no motivation. I have such a hard time getting myself prepared to go to work. I drag my feet so much! And it's not like I have a crappy job. I have an absolutely wonderful job, with wonderful people. I am so lucky to have it. But, I don't want to go. I want to stay home, clean house, make dinner, etc etc etc. But I can't have that.

I don't feel any desire to read, or write. Those are probably my biggest sign that the depression is settling back in. Things I normally love are no longer of any interest to me.

I've noticed myself burrowing into my hole, not wanting to be social, not wanting to go anywhere or see anyone. I have to force myself into it, mostly for the sake of my kids (such as going to Seattle to the Science Center). If not for them, I'd probably have become a hermit by now.

I know these things are not normal. It's not normal for me to sit here and sulk and find fault with everything about myself. It's not healthy.

So, maybe tomorrow I'll make that phone call.