Depression

Brain Zaps, Random Pizza, Temper Tantrum, and Life Thoughts

Brain Zaps, Random Pizza, Temper Tantrum, and Life Thoughts

Brain Zaps, Random Pizza, Temper Tantrum, and Life Thoughts

Brain Zaps, Random Pizza, Temper Tantrum, and Life Thoughts.  Have you ever looked at yourself in wonder where you went?  That young person you were, is no longer there.  The young adult you were went by in sheer survival mode.  The 30s were supposed to revive you, yet it flew by in a trauma tornado.  40s were the “new” 30s and sadly, you missed that decade too.

Who Am I Now?

Honestly, I have no clue.  I was told, now that my house is dwindling down in children, that I need to start trying new things to see what I like.  My taste might have changed.  I liked singing, drawing, needlepoint, and reading.

Now, singing is a thing of the past.  Whenever I turn a song on, I usually bawl my eyes out.  Drawing and needlepoint is not gonna happen because of my tremors.  Reading, I could get into that again but once I start a book, I cannot stop and everything gets neglected.

So, what am I to do?  Take up horseback riding (did that, too old now), rodeo clown, runner, Bible thumper, interpretative dance?  None of those things sound appealing.  What does a woman, almost 49 years old do?  I would love to go back to work, but doing what I want to do which is counseling.  Maybe I would enjoy getting my Ph.D. That costs LOTS of money, that I don’t necessarily have to dedicate to another 2 years of college.  I mean, lets face it, I’m still paying for my Master’s and I never use it.

Is This Depression Talking

Making friends is not high on my agenda, going to brunches…not my thing.  Idle chitchat stresses me out.  Leaving the house stresses me out.  I love counseling and helping people.  Yet, without having my license that is not gonna happen.

What do people do?  I am not the same person I was in my 20s, 30s, and 40s.  Vastly different if you ask me.  A lot of that is mental illness and living in survival mode.  Let’s face it, I’m still actively raising children.  My youngest is only 7.  The 3 kids, still under my roof, all have some sort of special need that requires time and attention.

I guess I should be an uber driver.  Maybe that is the answer.

That is kind of where I am at today.

It has been a quiet day, filled with at least one whacko thing (if you don’t count the “why is there a slice of pizza in the back of my van…where did it come from…how long has it been there..when was the last time we even ordered a pizza” conundrum), and one moment of flat out rage.

This rage came out of nowhere on this pretty, beautiful weather, cool type day.  It started off with “hey, where is your mask?” and it ended with me taking an antianxiety pill and said child hanging out in their room.  We are both taking a time out…yet I haven’t seen this child enough today to even need a time out from them.

Honestly, what the heck is wrong with me?  My poor family.  I hate they have to deal with my mental instability.  I want better for them, all the way around.  The anxiety and depression shouldn’t affect them and I pray that they never inherit it.  I hate it.  All of it.

I am pro medication, holistic medication, meditation, Jesus, therapy.  All of those things I still do, but here I am…having a moment…over a mask.  So stupid.

Yes, I’m questioning my life and sanity over one simple question.

Seriously, what is wrong with me?  I started feeling it come up from my toes.  Literally, I put my fingers over my lips…yet I continued.  In my head, I could hear that still small voice saying “enough, young lady.”  I ignored it and acted a fool through my (literally) clamped lips.  Oh, and add that to the brain zaps of weaning yourself off of antidepressants because the one you are on makes you want to do not so nice things to yourself.

Good times, all the way around.

Now, my dog is being a rebel and walking in the cul-de-sac, my cat thinks she is an outdoor cat and darted out, the random piece of pizza is still in the back of the van, I forgot one kid at school, then I took one kid 2 hrs early to work because we both forgot when he was supposed to be there, and supper is a “new imaginative” dish that I concocted from the meal I invented last night.

Tis the life.  Now, off to go and apology, do spelling words, figure out why this random spot in my house is sticky, and maybe cry.

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In the Still of the Night, The Monster Comes to Play

In the Still of the Night, The Monster Comes to Play

In the Still of the Night, The Monster Comes to Play

In the Stillness

I love the time of day when I can go upstairs and just be.  For the day, I am done.  I am done with school, cooking, cleaning, putting out fires, phone calls, texts, etc.  My stuff, a bottle of water, and coke come up the stairs with me.  I turn on all the fans, dim the lights, wash my face, and pile up in bed.  Yet, In the Still of the Night, The Monster Comes to Play.

For a bit, I am good.  I will scan all the things like email, Instagram, and such.  Facebook is a thing of the past.  I cannot stand the fakeness, passive-aggressive, political, crap that it is.  A “friend” can be a friend to your face but behind your back, they are a glorified 12-year-old living in the land of middle school.

That shit is for the birds.  I’m so much better than that.

Then, the stillness sets in.

The Silence

My life is SO loud.  I mean my son-in-law is LOUD.  Everyone is loud.  We have 21 chickens, 19 cats, a whiny dog, a granddaughter, and kids galore.  It is always something.  At night, though, other than the fans, it is silent.

That’s when the thoughts come in.  These are not good thoughts.  Normally, I watch the Detail Geek (car detailing guy from Canada) and talk to Donna.  We talk through several of his details and giggle so much.  Catch up on life, talk about our issues, and the issues of our children… all the things.

Since she passed away, in October last year, I have stopped watching him.  I get so emotional when I do.  Then, I go to pick up the phone and I realize she isn’t there.  All of the unresolved trauma and grief floods me.

Reality

When Donna’s daughter died, I did not process her death for a year.  Her death was so hard on me.  I have loved LA from the moment I met her until the moment we buried her.  Donna and I had always been close but our bond was unbreakable after LA died.

I remember the night that I called her.  Crying.  I was crying so hard that I couldn’t breathe.  She could not understand me.  Finally, she said for me to stop and tell her 2 things that make me laugh when I think of her.

  1.  Bats
  2. Hair dye

Instantly

I stopped crying and replayed that story over and over in my head.  The darkness began to have a bit of light and the monster retreated for a moment back from where it came.  Donna is gone. Now, I have no one to tell that story too.

So again, the monster comes out to play in the stillness of the night.  When I am alone with my own thoughts and the depression begins to overwhelm me.

Bats. Hair dye.  Bats.  Hair dye.  Monsters go away because I do not want to play.

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