What it's like....

It's like a messy closet, the inside of my head.  I think it's just like the closet in Lilli and Abbi's bedroom.  The closet is large; it has two sets of bi-fold doors that open wide.  There is a storage system in the closet that we installed when we were pregnant with Lilli.  On the left is a single bar for hanging, high enough for pants or full dresses.  In the middle is a series of cubbies (4, I think) that are meant to hold folded sweaters, shoes, extra blankets.  Then on the right there are two more hanging bars, for shirts or sweaters or skirts.  There are also two full length shelves that run the length of the closet, perfect for mementos and bigger boxes.  The doors are always closed, but the light is always on so the girls have a little night light.  And when the doors are closed, they are child-proof locked by two sliders at the top.

This is my head.  To a T, this is my head.  There is always a light on.  I am always thinking, there is always brain waves of some sort to be found.  But, like the doors, I am locked.  Locked up tight and locked high where not many can reach.  I have trouble reaching the locks to open the closet doors, and the same goes for my head.  But when I stand on my tippy-toes and will myself to open it, even a crack, a whole lot of mess comes pouring out.

The mess in my head is the same as the mess on the floor of the closet.  Unused baby equipment can symbolize that I have years of childhood that I have yet to let go of.  Really, there is no reason to keep the pack-and-play, yet there it sits.  Just like there is no reason for me to hold on to the abuse of my family, and yet there it sits.  There are boxes of art projects, hand prints, and first scribbles.  Memories that I will want to share some day.  I have those in my head, too.  Boxes and boxes of stories to tell my kids when they get older; stories about them growing up and stories about me and their father growing up.

There is also a huge load of stuffed animals that are no longer "friends".  Some have been discarded because they are ripped or torn, some are dirty and could use a good bath, and some are baby stuffies that are just outgrown.  Again, symbolism!  This could easily represent the people in my life that I am keeping around "just in case" even though they are not needed or wanted.  It's time to clean them up and out.  The ones that are old and dirty maybe just need a washing and then they would be brand new.  These are my friends who are still out there but are neglected and I need to reconnect with.  The stuffies that are ripped and torn are friendships that might have been damaged over the years, but it might be possible to reconnect and patch things up.  As for the toys that I have outgrown, there are so many people in my life that I need to let go of, to let them move on to others that will love and care for them.  It's time for them to go to Goodwill.

Looking at the storage system, well, it was meant to be a place that we could hang and fold clothes and blankets for good use later.  It was meant to help us be organized.  My head has a wonderful organization system as well, I am just not using it very well right now.  Mine, like the closet, is full of clothes and hats that I have outgrown; costumes and dress-up clothes that either don't fit or that I don't want to wear anymore.  But I am not ready to get rid of them for fear I might need them again.  I mean, really, why am I still hanging on to the "lost child without a friend" costume.  I could let that go.  I could also let go of the hats of "ugly sister, unloved adolescent, and tries to hard young adult".  But I hold them, and there pain, just like I hold on to the clothes that no longer fit my girls.

I keep telling myself that I am going to clean that closet, that I will take a few garbage bags and clean it up and out.  I will decide on a few things to keep, maybe a few stuffed animals and a few favorite dresses from when the girls were little just to show them one day.  But it's time for the rest to go; it's time to start using that organizer for it's purpose.  It's time to open the doors and keep them unlocked, so that it is a clean and safe place.

2 weeks

I've been distant.  I've been pretty much non-existant for almost 2 weeks now.

The depression came back and reared it's ugly head.  And it was not pretty.

I stopped taking my meds.  I started to resist, even though I kept going, therapy.  I was making stupid choices and shutting out the people who cared about me.

I lined up the pill bottles.  I pulled out an exacto knife.  If my 4 year old hadn't yelled at his older sister and scared me, I would have gone through with it.

I was spared going to the hospital.  J and Dr C were sure they could get me through this.  I wasn't to be left alone, she told J.  I was to take my meds.  I wasn't to be allowed to despense my own meds.  I was to see her 2-3 times a week.  I was to put some time and effort into my DBT book; one chapter a week.  I am to e-mail them both my 3 favorite things of the day in an effort to remind myself that there are good things going on in the midst of my world falling apart.

I can feel myself slowly coming back to Earth.  Slowly.  Going to work this week has helped.  Pretending that everything is now fine has helped. 

Everything is not fine, but we will keep working on that.

Diminished Light

The darkness of the night sets in
Light is diminished, banished for hours
She lays still
Not wanting to awaken her bedmate
Hot tears travel down her cheeks
Wounds of the day
Stubbornness subsides
Heartache sets in
Plans have been made
Thought over time and time again
Each moment accounted for
She doesn't want there to be errors
Once and done
She pushes away the doubt, uncertainty
Decisions have already been made
They must be followed through
Her eyes flicker
One more night
One more day
And then it will be complete

Anhedonia

Anger

Non stop

Hatred of self

Exhausting

Daily struggle

Overly sensitive

Negative thoughts

Insanity

Abounding

MDD SUCKS!

I am fighting, I swear I am.

But Major Depressive Disorder sucks.  Big Time.  We are not friends at all.

This week has been very challenging.  Work has been tough; so many students to see, so little time.  Family life has been tough, my MIL started chemo this week and I have been pretty emotional about it.  Energy has been low since the lapband was filled and I am not consuming many calories.  Sleep is distant; I miss it so!  And, honestly, I have not been good on my meds.  I think that I am about 4 days behind.  Other un-healthy coping skills abound, but I will save that for fear of triggering others.

But I try and fight. I try to wake up every morning and say that today will be better.  I get up, get the kids dressed and fed, and try to go about my day.  I have been making more of an effort to meet my husband for lunch before I start work (I am on 2nd shift at the college advising office the rest of the month).  I try to relax when I get home before sleep (I am addicted to Candy Crush).  It's just not working.

Dr. C would correct me and say that it is working because I am getting up and moving.  I haven't completely shut down and I am still moving forward.

But, man, this sucks.  You know what I feel like, I feel like an addict.  I wake up every morning and say it's going to be different and fail by the end of the day.  Not much different than someone who wakes up in the morning, saying the will not drink, do drugs, etc., and then cheats by the end of the day.

Whatever.

If I haven't said it yet, this sucks.

Being Positive, Just For Today

When You Are At The Crossroads Between Failing and Flying

I've been playing a lot this week and weekend.  Playing on that line between failing and failing.  I have had some AWESOME days this week, when things actually fell into place and I felt I was on a good path.  And I have had some days where I felt like throwing in the towel.  I guess this is recovery, that this is what it's like to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and keep walking.  Dr. C says that recovery is like going up a mountain, but the road is not straight, it has bumps and holes that you fall over and climb out of.

I hate bumps and holes.

For right now, all I can do is keep going.  I need to remember that a stumble is not a failure, it's me learning how to do things a better way.  I need to learn that when I am in the hole that I HAVE the coping skills to get out; I just need to use them.

(Wow, this is a really positive post for me.  Don't worry, it really is me....just in a good place.  I am sure I will be back to blogging in a more negative place later in the week  :)  )

Fakin it 'Til I'm Makin it

Yup....I'm pretty much at that stage....where I will fake and push myself to be happy until I really am.  I was able to pull myself over the down down depths of depression before I bottomed out this cycle, and am working to keep heading back upwards.  I am making myself do things to feel better, taking care of myself, knocking off the nightly drinking, forcing myself to talk and be more honest in therapy sessions.  And, surprise, it's actually working!

I had a session this morning with Dr. C, and it went really really well.  We kept the conversation light, and while we talked about some semi-serious stuff, I didn't let it overwhelm and take over.  Pretty good, huh?

I am still doing 2-a-weeks with Dr. C, and I am ok with that.  I think that I need the extra support as I battle on through this, and, honestly, I would see her every day if I could; I like talking to her that much!

Light post today; here's to a great weekend and a good report on the otherside!