Heartbroken

Do you remember the first time that you felt heartbroken?

I think, for me, that it was when I asked Richard (Something) to Girl's Choice my freshman year.  At first he said yes; I was elated!  Then about a week or so later he came back and said he didn't want to go. 

Heartbroken.

This past Sunday, J and I took the kids to my mother-in-law's house.  We were looking for things to do, and her retirement village has an awesome pool where every Sunday they grill hot dogs.  It got even better as N (mother-in-law) let us know that she asked J's sister and her two boys to join us.  My kids love to play with their cousins every chance they get, and it turned out to be a wonderfully relaxing day.

While we were there, N and I sat under an umbrella and had some good conversation.  She has been UBBER supportive of us through these past two years; I don't know what we would have done without her.  Anyway, she was telling me that she hasn't been feeling good and had a series of doctor's appointments this week.  On Monday she was going in for an ultrasound and bloodwork, and then would meet with her doctor a few hours later.  Her doctor was thinking from her symptoms that it was kidney stones, and he wanted to see the location of them before they decided on treatment.  She called me and left a message on Monday night; it wasn't kidney stones, and they weren't sure what it was, so they were sending her for more tests today.  I breathed a sigh of relief and hoped that it was something much easier than what they originally thought.

It's not.

Tonight, as I was making hot dogs and cheesy broccoli for the kid's dinner, J's sister called.  I knew it was bad because he took the phone and went out to the back porch.  For those in the Chicagoland area, you know today is not a day to voluntarily go into this oppressive heat.  After the kids were all settled, I went out to see what was up.  I could tell by the look and my love's face that it wasn't good.  I stood silent and waited for him to finish the call. 

"It's pancreatic cancer," J said, trying hard to be strong.  His eyes looked like could burst into tears, and as a hugged him it was almost as if I could feel his sadness seeping out through his chest.

"Dad is hysterical.  They are doing more tests tomorrow to see how far it has spread and if surgery is an option."

I stood there, hands on my hips, imitating his fake strength.  My head started spinning.  I know that our parents are all in their 60's and these sort of things start happening now, but I am just not ready.

J and I chatted a little more, agreeing that we were not going to say anything to the kids until absolutely necessary, rearranging schedules for Friday since we are pretty sure that N will not be coming to watch the kids, and just trying to get our bearings.  We hugged again, and came inside.

I immediately went to my computer and started to research, then quickly shut the computer as there was nothing good to read.  It's always malignant.  It has a low survival rate.  It's one of the top 8 cancer-killers in the US.

Heartbroken.  Absolutely heartbroken.

Bittersweet

Yesterday was a tremendously bittersweet day for me.

I know that I have mentioned before that my family of origin is not speaking to me because they became frustrated and overwhelmed last year when I was going through my deepest bouts of depression.  Well, the only person who has attempted to keep contact is my sister-in-law, my older brother's wife.  We have been trying for months to get together, but with 5 active kids between us nailing down a date was difficult!

We were finally able to plan a swim date at their community pool yesterday, and it was wonderful!  Her two kids, E (who is now 9) and W (who is 5) have grown so much!  And they were overjoyed to have three hours to play with their cousins.  We exchanged presents for missed birthdays, had lunch, and swam until my kids were ready to pass out.  We did have to end it a bit early because Big A had a stomach ache and couldn't swim anymore (something that's still going on).

It was wonderful to reconnect.  We never talked about the family and what's going on, but talked a lot about the kids and what they have been up to, plans for the remainder of summer, and worked on finding a date to meet up again.

Then, later last night, she sent me a message thanking me for coming.  Even better then that was she said that it was important to her that the cousins keep getting together no matter who is talking to who.  I must admit, it choked me up a little.  My family was so close; we did everything together.  having that missing for the past year has been horrible.  On some level there has been benefits, it has allowed J and I to start building our own family traditions for holidays and birthdays, but it kills me that the kids have gone for so long without seeing my parents.

Today is Saturday and we are laying low as a family.  The kids helped J wash both cars and I have been concentrating on getting this week's laundry done.  Makes me shake my head with how quick clothes add up to large piles when there 5 people in a house!  I am still having problems eating, I have been getting terrible stomach aches about 20 minutes after consuming anything, which makes me not want to eat anything.  But today I have a little hope, thanks to yesterday's trip, that eventually everything will work out the way it's supposed to.

Slow Day

It's Sunday and, as usual, things are calm in our house.  No one was out of jammies before noon, Little A took a good, long nap, L and Big A got to go to Toys R Us to spend birthday gift cards.  J has now taken all three kids on a walk in the forest, and I get to relax before the whirlwind of evening activities start.

I am sad that I am out of episodes of Army Wives to watch, but I have started to stream Sister Wives through Netflix.  It's an addiction, I know, but it's so much fun to watch someone else's story and see what goes on in their lives.  It's like being a Peeping Tom, but doing it legally.

I am sad, however, because tomorrow my cousin will be giving birth to her second child.  And because of the division in the family, I won't be there to see the baby.  I am sure that I will see pictures via Facebook, but it's really not the same.  Some days this whole "alienation" thing really bugs me, like when things like this are happening.  I grew up with my cousins like we were siblings, and now because 1 person in my family had an issue with my depression, everyone has had to choose sides, and I have been left alone; abandoned by all the people who I have thought loved me throughout the years. 

Not a lot else to say...tomorrow is back to the comfortable schedule of the work-week, nanny will be here, the kids will play all morning and swim all afternoon, then pass out after dinner.  I do have an appointment with Dr. H this week which is good because since I have stopped the Latuda (it causes severe stomach cramps) I am able to see that the Wellbutrin does not do enough on it's own.  I also have an appointment with Dr. C, which could be interesting.  Last night, I might have had a few shots of Tequila Rose and then I might have accidentally texted her instead of J, stating that I was ready for more shots...don't think that's going to go over real well.  It is what it is, and I am sure that I will survive.

Good night for now, if anything interesting happens I will be sure to come back and tell you all about it!

Me and Jose

So I became pretty good friends last night with Jose.  Jose Cuarvo that is.  (Did I spell that right?)  4th of July.  J's family came over.  His best-friend-might-as-well-be-a-brother came over with his wife.  And some limes.  So we drank.  And drank.  And then, when we were thirsty, we drank a little more.  And the thing was, they were only here for about 3 hours.  Was just supposed to be a small BBQ and then a trip to see fireworks.  Well, J took the kids, I passed out.  Nice.  *shakes head*

Today was my session with Dr. C.  And, of course, I woke up totally hungover.  Which shouldn't really be a problem, except that I saw her hungover three weeks ago, the day after Father's Day when I had too much to drink.  I showered and got dressed the best I could between bouts of extreme nausea, forced down some water and toast, and headed out.  Half-way there I get a text from Dr. C that they are painting the office and we can either meet at a local McD's or cancel.  Well, since I have already gone through so much effort, I agreed to the McD's.  Just walking in and smelling all the food made my stomach do more flips-flops then in did during all three of my pregnancies combined. 

Because we were sitting in the middle of a restaurant, I didn't want to launch into a rant about just how bad my depression is.  We joked, a little, about my hang-over, but I don't think that she was really too happy about it.  We talked a little about how my job has gone from 4 days a week to 2, and how financially that has been a challenge.  We talked a lot about J's and my relationship and how I can make some small changes to get it back to where we were.  And just as I thought I was going to be able to fly under the radar and leave without talking about depression, she asks me what was up.  I told her, in as lighthearted of a manner as I could muster.  I just said that I thought the depression was coming back, that I didn't have much of an appetite, that I was secluding in my bedroom more.  And I left it at that.  I didn't bring up the suicidal thoughts, how my mind has begun composing "good-bye" letters again, the numbness that I was feeling.  I think that if we had been sitting in her office I might have, but I couldn't let myself go there in a public place.  She gave me a few things to try and break the isolation and spend a little more time with the kids, and I agreed to try them this week.  We confirmed our date change for next week, and I left.

And now I kick myself.  Why do we do that?  Why do we have the opportunity to sit with someone who is totally focused on us and we don't use it the best that we can?  Why do we, or why do I, choose to stuff what I am thinking and feeling when I know that it will only make things worse?  Dr. C has already told me on more than one occasion that as long as I don't say that I am going to leave her office and kill myself that she will not hospitalize me.  But the fear is already ingrained.  The fear developed from past times I have trusted doctors only to be shipped off to inpatient units for weeks at a time.  The fear that telling someone what is going on in my head makes it more true somehow.  It also feels like it is my little secret, and I don't know that I want to share it.  Sounds weird, and I don't know if I am even explaining it right.

Anyway, 6 more days until I get to meet with her again, and I am hoping that by that time either the depression will be better or I will be able to be honest.  Because I know that keeping the secret will one day kill me.

So, I am sitting at work...

So, I am sitting at work and my mind is racing.  My last 2 student appointments have not show.  It is, after all July 3rd and my guess is most people are already starting vacations versus wanting to come in to register for Fall Classes.

I was hoping for a busy day at work to ease my mind.  It's not here.  I popped a Klonopin before I even started the work day because I was already overly-anxious.  It's not helping.  I am here now to try and type it out, to get it out into cyber-space, in the hopes that it will help calm and relax me.

I am pretty familiar with my "levels" of depression.  Level 1 is just feeling crummy, but able to get up and do stuff with a smile.  Level 2, drop that smile and grumble and complain that everything is too difficult and refuse to do even the simplest of chores.  Level 3, start withdrawing, stop talking to J, talk with a harsher tone to the kids, eat everything in site.  Level 4, stay in bed for as long as possible, stop eating, start making not-so-good plans in my head.  Level 5, full on meltdown, refusing to speak even to Dr. C, thoughts totally consumed with suicide and self-injury.

Today, I am at Level 4.  Not good.  Not good at all.

I have been taking my morning meds, although I HAD to stop the Latuda because the side-effects were overwhelming.  I have an appointment with Dr. H in a week, and hope that he can find an alternative.  I don't think the Wellbutrin alone is working. 

I have had major issues bot yesterday and today with eating.  I just can't do it.  I feel sick to my stomach and the thought of putting food in there makes me want to gag.  And this is from a chronic over-eater.  Not good.  Not good at all.

I have two more days before I have an appointment with Dr. C.  I am trying to avoid e-mailing her, sometimes it just seems like the e-mails are a pathetic waste of time.  I am sure they come across whiny and juvenile, and besides, I don't have the energy for it.

T-minus 3 hours and counting until I can get back into bed, put ArmyWives on Netflix, and just forget about the day.  Right now, it can't come soon enough.

Working away the depression

It's 7:30AM and oddly quiet in the house.  Usually by now Little A is awake and asking for breakfast and RescueBots on the living room TV.  And it's not like they did an extensive amount of exercising or playing yesterday that has exhausted them.  Weather in Chicago is being, well, it's Chicago weather.  It's never predictable and usually off-season.  Meaning, it's July 3rd and the high is 72 with rain all day.  Shouldn't we be into the 90's by now?

Yesterday marked the start of my diminished work-week.  When I was hired at the local Community College as an academic advisor, my position was called "Casual advisor", meaning less than part-time.  Two months ago when I started, I was thankful that it would be about 9-10 hours a week.  Since I had been out of work for 18 months, I thought this would be a great way to slide back in.  Then my supervisor offered for the position to go up to 25 hours a week due to it being a busy registration time, and I thought about the money I would make and agreed.  But, part of the deal is that I would go back to 9 hours starting July 1st, the new fiscal year.  So, I didn't work yesterday.  And it drove me CRAZY!

Before all this happened, and I don't know if I have talked about it here or not, I was both an adjunct faculty member and an academic advisor for a nation-wide, for-profit university.  I taught my classes, Critical Thinking, on-line and it fit in perfect with my schedule.  I could work all day, come home, do dinner, put the kids to bed, and then teach.  But everything dropped with the depression.  And I was pretty sure that I would never be able to get my career back on track.  Starting work at this college was a step in the right direction.  And while I was concerned that mentally I wouldn't be able to handle working, it turned out to be so good for me that I was busy again.  I didn't have time to think about depression so much when I was working. I was getting out of the house which was forcing me to shower and dress on a daily basis.  I was meeting new people.  And, as luck would have it, my job is literally 5 minutes from where J works so we were able to do lunches together.  I know that that helped bring back so intimacy that our relationship was lacking.

But now I am down to 9 hours a week, and being home all day yesterday was, well, odd.  Not that I don't enjoy being with my kids, but I have been fighting the Depression Lion this week and the last thing I needed was a day in pj's watching ArmyWives.  I did get up and shower about noon as L and Big A had their annual check-ups, but I also still had the nanny come and she spent the morning and the remainder of the afternoon with them.  And then as I crawled into bed at the same time as the kids, about 8PM, I realized that I had broken my thou-must-blog-every-day command.  I was disappointed in myself, but did not have the energy to get up and post.

So, here I sit, early morning, alone (still!  I am shocked) with my computer in the kitchen.  I see a stack of last night's, well, honestly, the last two night's dishes on the kitchen counter and I know I need to get those in the dishwasher before the nanny gets here.  I am pretty sure that I need to do a load of laundry if my kids are to have clean clothes to wear.  I am positive that I need to do laundry for me if I am going to have clothes to wear to work.  My mind is spinning on the amount of cleaning that needs to be done before we host a 4th of July BBQ tomorrow.  And I have zero motivation. 

Sigh.

Depression sucks.

Until I make it to tomorrow

Tonight should be a perfect example of a beautiful summer night in Chicago.  It's in the mid 70's, we have all doors and windows open so there is a soft breeze blowing through the house.  The kids have been fed, both a healthy dinner and then chocolate dipped ice-cream cones from McDonalds.  They are now in the backyard, running and screaming, burning off extra energy and sugar in the hopes that they will sleep past 7AM tomorrow.  J has made himself comfortable with our dog, Mia, on the back porch and has been pretty silent, except for the occasionally need to tell L to not be so bossy or remind Little A that they have to share toys in the sandbox.   It should be a beautiful night.

I am sitting at our oversized kitchen table, a round, 8 person table with a lazy-susan in the middle.  It sits on my freshly washed white tiled floor, surrounded by stucco and deep yellow walls.  The almost-white counters are as clean as they will ever be, littered with library books that are due back tomorrow, various Rescue Bots that Little A got for his birthday party yesterday, and a pan of leftover purple cupcakes.  While there is a stack of dishes to be done, looking at them reminds me that we just had a family dinner, something that is rare during the busy summer months, especially since I have been working until 7PM lately.  I should be content.  I should be happy.

Yesterday we had what I should consider a very successful birthday party for the kids.  Since L, Big A, and Little A's birthdays are all within a month of each other we simply have one giant party.  We rent out a local pool, invite all of their friends and families, order several dozen pizzas and just let them loose.  We had about 60 people in attendance last night, something I was happy with considering the weather in Chicago went from being in the upper 80's to a very chilly 68 last night.  Of course, little kids don't give two thoughts to cold weather; they were to anxious to jump in the pool and go down the two story tall waterslide!  The parents sat bundled in coats and watched their children turn from adorable little kids to blue-lipped monsters.  I should be thankful.

But I am not. 

Tonight depression is rearing its ugly head.

Tonight I am not a good mother, I am a slacker who is doing whatever she can to avoid contact with her children.

Tonight I am a bad wife because dinner was a simple set of leftovers, both pasta from the other night and pizza from last night.  Not that anyone complained, but I should have done better for a Sunday night dinner.

Tonight I don't like myself.  I can feel every pound on my body and I wish I could literally take a pair of scissors and cut off unwanted pieces.

Tonight I want to crawl into a ball in my bed, pull the blanket up over my head, and just shut out the world.

Tonight I think thoughts that are too overwhelming and triggering to put into words.  I think thoughts that would end this depression.

Tonight I worry that this past week of somewhat contentment is breaking way for a week of going downhill.  I worry, as I always do, that I will not survive another round of deep depression and anxiety.

Tonight I will shut everything out as soon as the kids go to bed (T-minus 15 minutes), watch a few episodes of ArmyWives on Netflix, and just breath.

Tomorrow, well, I know that if I can make it to tomorrow I will have survived tonight.  And for now that's all I can do.

For the love of J

I really think that is some aspects of my life I got really lucky.  Like, really lucky.  I have three wonderful children.  I have a house that, while small, fits us all and keeps us warm and dry.  I have a good part time job, and hope to soon make it full time.  I have a rusty mini-van with 100,000+ miles that still gets me from here to there.  And, best of all, I have my J.

J and I met almost 10 years ago.  Wow, 10 years this September!  We met online, on a site called Lavalife.  The summer of 2003, I had just ended a long term relationship and my best friend at the time had encouraged me to try online dating.  Soon after, I got dreaded mono and was stuck at home for almost 2 months.  It was really bad.  So, to pass the time, I set up a few online dating sites and started chatting away with a bunch of people, J being one of them.  I went on a few dates, but none of them really panned out.  Until I met J.  I think that we clicked right away.  Within weeks we were hanging out together, and I think it was about the month mark that he introduced me to his family.  It was moving kind of quick, but it was good.  We moved in together within a year, and were married at the end of 2005!  Life was good, we were moving along, having lots of babies in a short amount of time (2006,2007, and 2009).  Money has often been tight as we elected to send our kids to private day-care and Catholic school, but have been happy.

Then, when I got sick in 2011, I worried what would become of us.  I was pushing everyone away, most of all J.  He was the only one that I had EVER let get so close to me, and there were times that I just couldn't talk anymore, let alone be held or comforted in anyway.  And when I was hospitalized, well, I worried about the strain that it was putting on our marriage.  He was essentially a single parent for 18 months.  And he didn't complain, not even once.  Honestly, not ever.  He took a version FMLA leave with work so that he could be home with me when needed (they gave him a year to use the 12 week benefit so that he can pick and choose days that he needs to be home).  All I have to do is call or text him and say FMLA and he comes home.  When I was in the hospital, he would come and visit me almost every night, counting on his parents to help with babysitting.  Some days that meant skipping dinner and eating hospital food just so that he could make it within the given time.

Just being with him makes me feel better.  It's almost like he is his own version of an anti-anxiety pill.  Seriously, unless the depression is REALLY bad, I cannot help but smile and laugh when I am around him.  And he knows it; I think that he secretly prides himself on it.  He stands at about 6'1", and I am pushing 5'3", so I fit perfectly under his chin when I need a bear hug.  He has a great goatee, and I love the way that it tickles my neck when he kisses me.  His eyes are full of compassion and understanding, and I have never felt judged by him through this whole mess.  I have been lucky, I snagged one of the best fish in the sea, and I know it....

Plugging along...

Today has been rough.  I haven't really gotten sleep in the past 3 nights, and that has a direct impact on how I function during the day.  My mind has just been going and going, and then when I finally can fall asleep, well, one night there was the thunderstorm and last night Little A had a bad dream and wanted me to rub his back (at 4AM!).  Who can say no to that?  Then, before I know it, J is getting up for work at 6:30 and my sleep in over.  My anxiety has been high, and I have taken my Klonopin twice in an effort just to stay at a level that I can work with.  I am hoping that a combo of light rain and pure exhaustion will help me to sleep well tonight. 

Tomorrow is usually the day that I see Dr. C, but she is out of the office.  Boo.  Isn't it weird how we build relationships with our therapists and it can totally throw your week off if you don't get to see them?  I mean, in reality, there are how many hours in a week? 168.  So, 167 of them I function just fine without her, but if I don't have that one hour (or 50 minutes) it all goes to hell.  Alright, so, to be honest, I really don't function well the other 167 and usually send her a few e-mails during the week, but I don't expect to get responses from her, they are more just so that I can feel that I am touching base and not floating alone in the Universe.

I have a blog that I have used with her, as well.  I started it last summer when I was working with another therapist as a way to vent and express emotion between sessions.  I shared it with Dr. C in December when she was sick for one of our appointments and I felt I was going to burst.  I have written stories, poems, shared music.  It has been an awesome tool for us and for me to be able to express my feelings in another manner.  Remind me to post some of the stories that I have written from there over to here.  Most of them are pretty damn depressing and triggering, but it's pure emotion and I remember it feeling so good to just get it out.  Actually, it's what kinda inspired me to start this blog, a place that I can write it all out, get it out of my insides, but where it's still anonymous.

Ok, folks, that's about all I got in me for today.  2 more students to see and then my day is over.  I am thinking chips and salsa for dinner and then off to bed.  Have a wonderful night!

Who do you tell?

OMG, the rain in Chicago today!  It started at about 4AM and didn't stop until after 9AM, which means our front yard turned into a lake again, essentially trapping J and I in the house.  He is able to work from home, so that's good, and it turns out that there was so much widespread flooding that they closed my college today!  We let the nanny still come for the kids, we all went to lunch, and now have shipped them off to the pool so I can have some much needed down time....

Making the best use of my time, I decided to watch a few episodes of ArmyWives on Netflix.  I heart ArmyWives.  So much drama, so much big hair.  This was the episode where Claudia Joy learns that she has diabetes and decides that she doesn't want to tell anyone.  She declares over and over to her husband that it is her personal problem and it's no one's business.  But, she ends up going into shock and her friends find out anyway (I know, predictable).  It made me think, though.  How true is this for people with mental illness?  How many friends have you told?

For me, telling people when I first starting having symptoms of depression was horrible.  Having to ask my boss, the Dean, to adjust my schedule to accommodate doctor's appointments was humiliating.  And then having to fill out the paperwork to ask for FMLA leave, beyond embarrassed.  I didn't tell people at work that I was leaving, I just couldn't.  The timing was bad, my last day at work was the day before the Asst. Dean's wedding that we were all going to, so I just didn't mention it.  J and I went to the wedding, acted as if nothing was going on, and kept our mouths shut.  We left it up to the Dean to tell people on Monday morning that I was out for at least 12 weeks.  I also didn't tell my family at first that I was taking a leave.  Again, embarrassment and fear of reaction overwhelmed me.  This later came back to bite me in the arse, but at that time it seemed like the right thing.  I thought that I was sparing them pain by not sharing mine.  As for friends, I told exactly 2 that I was going through this; one of my friends who noticed right away that I was not acting the same and another who I knew was also going through depression and would probably understand.  And that's it.  For almost 2 years now, I have kept it a secret.

Then I started the new job.  I started May 1, so it's not even been 2 months that I have been there.  And I love it!  The people who I work with are fabulous, and I quickly became friends with one we will call JMR.  She is beyond nice, so down to earth, and incredibly funny.  We clicked right away.  Anyway, the other day I was in her office and I was telling a story about this jerk of a driver and I said, "I was already worked up from being with my therapist for over an hour," and as soon as the words came out I started to panic.  She, however, got this big smile on her face and said, "You see a therapist?!?!"  It was almost as if she was happy about it.  Weird, very weird.  She then asked me if I was on medication, and I reluctantly said yes and she got even happier and said that she has been on anti-depressants since her 20's (she is almost 40 now).  She then launches into a story about her past experience with therapists and doctors.  It was one of the most reassuring feelings that I have had in a long time.  Here was someone, whom I had pre-judged as not safe to talk to, who actually has now turned out to be one of my best allies.  We have shared stories about childhood, seeing therapists we've hated and loved, what medications work the best for us, how we handle breakdowns.  I cannot begin to explain how good it is to know that I have someone in my office who is aware of my situation, is completely non-judgemental, and who I know I can turn to if I need a boost.

Now, does this mean that I am going to run out and tell everyone about my depression?  Well, I guess I am on this blog, but I don't think that I will be sharing it anytime soon with my Facebook world.  It's a hard call, who to tell and who not to.  There are some people who don't understand, who judge and point fingers and laugh.  There are some people who will be ubber supportive and can become close friends.  It's a flip of a coin, a risk we have to take.

Have you had positive or negative experiences telling people?  Stories you'd like to share?

Life's a Beach

I love the beach.  I mean really, really love the beach.  I love the sand, the smell of the water, the sun shining down.  I like to walk along the edge of the water and let the waves tickle my toes.  I love to sit on a blanket and watch the tide go in and out.  It's peaceful.  It's calm.  It's beautiful.

I love taking the kids to the beach.  While they still need supervision, it's pretty much three hours or so that I can relax without having to tell them not to run, to fight, not to be too loud.  They get to "be" and I get a break.  So, with J wanting to go on an organized bike ride today, I decided to pack the kids up and go to the beach.  We made a lunch, packed some snacks and extra water, grabbed the sand toys are we were off.  Early, too.  We left the house by 8:45AM.  It's about a 30 minute drive, and just as I was about to pull my hair out from hearing Little A ask, "are we there yet?" we arrived!  The beach parking lot was full, so we had  to park about two blocks away.  I was mentally thinking "This is not a big deal now, but trying to get all this stuff plus three tired kids back to the car is not going to be fun."  We set up camp, sprayed on the sunscreen, and they were off.  There were a few tiffs and tats, but most of all it was a wonderful three hours.  They took breaks as needed, made sure that I was as full of sand as possible, and generally had a good time wearing themselves out.  The walk back to the car was as painful as I had predicted, but I kept enticing them with the promise of cold Capri-Suns that I had left in a cooler in the car.  It helped, but not much.

The ride home was uneventful as they were tired and pretty much just drank their juice and listened to music.  A quick dip in the tub for everyone, and Little A was already in his bed waiting for me to tuck him in for a nap before I even got there!  Big A and L took their iPads into their rooms, and I smiled as I realized that I had earned myself at least another 2 hours of peace.  I showered myself, pulled on comfy pajamas, and settled in for a few episodes of "ArmyWives" on Netflix.

Today was a good day, and I wanted to make sure I blogged about it for a few reasons.  First, few days are few and far between lately, and I need something to remind myself that they are possible for those times when it is looking down.  Second, while this blog is mainly focused on my struggles with depression, I want others to know that good day do happen!  And third, I want to remember as many of these special moments with my kids as possible.  They are growing fast, and I know that the time will come soon when they don't want to be at the beach with me, no matter how fabulous it is.

Going Blonde

I am still pretty shaken from yesterday.  It was a hard night, and has turned into a hard day.  J asked if I wanted to talk about it, I said no.  I had e-mailed him what I typed to you all on the blog as I knew that I would not be able to get that all out again.  He was great.  He just held me and let me cry.  This morning we both got to sleep in until about 8AM...which is a huge treat.  J made breakfast, I crawled back into bed after about an hour.  I just didn't want to face the day.  The weight of my sorrow from yesterday still covered me like a heavy blanket, and I didn't/couldn't shake it.  I watched "ArmyWives" on my phone for about two hours, and J took the kids to the local Nature Center to get them out of the house.  A quick lunch for the kidos, Little A put himself down for a nap (I LOVE when he does that), and that left me with time to think.

10 years ago this summer was probably the best summer of my life.  I had just ended a 7 year relationship and felt free.  Totally free.  I was confident in myself, in my appearance, in who I was.  I filled out some online dating website profiles, and before I knew it, I was going on dates left and right.  Some dates lasted hours, one barely lasted 30 minutes.  Some guys came back, some didn't.  And I was fine with it all.  I was young, 25, blonde, in better shape than I am now, and carefree. At the end on the summer, I met J online.  Icing on the cake.  Best. Summer. Ever.

I want to get back to that.  To that confident, sassy, carefree girl that I was.  I want that body back.  I want that hair back.  And, when I am not doing so hot, I tend to make impulse decisions.  So, L had a birthday party this afternoon; dropped her off, stopped at Walgreens, and I now have "Ultra Pale Blonde" sitting on my head.  For about 25 more minutes.  It's either going to make my dark blonde hair just the shade that I want, or come out some horrid shade of redish-blonde.  (My hair tends to turn red very easy).  We will see soon...

Bottom line, putting the dye in my hair has acted as a pick-me-up.  I can literally feel it.  Well, it's either that or the Klonopin I took a little while ago.  I am working to make changes in my life for me, not for anyone else.  I am refusing to let the events of yesterday totally spoil my weekend.  I had planned to take the kids to the beach tomorrow if the weather holds out while J is going on a biking event.  I want to do that, to make good memories for my kids.  I want to go on, because I cannot base the rest of my life on waiting on text messages from my family that may never come.  I need to be here.  I need to be here now.  And, gosh darnit, I need to be blonde!

Last Link of Pain

I cannot remember if I have mentioned it on here or not, but my family and I aren't speaking to each other.   It's actually been almost a year since we talked.  There was a blow-up and misunderstanding over me being hospitalized last year and it all just fell apart.  And the consequence of that is that we are now not speaking.

This weekend was Father's Day.  Kinda painful.  Like picking at a scab that has almost become full skin again, and it stings even when you are not touching it.  I miss my Dad.  He was my everything.  My biological mom left when I was 2, and even though I saw her on and off until I was 12, my Dad was the only stable adult figure for most of those years.  (Not to discount my step-mom, but that's a blog for another day.)  Anyway, my greatest fear in life was that I would loose my Dad, and it has now happened.  Only, I always thought it would be due to death, not that he is 5 miles from me and just refusing to talk and mend fences.  So I was not looking forward to the day.

I was more than happy to host J's family on Sunday, and we had a great time, but the only way that I got through it without a breakdown was because I drank.  I drank a lot.  So much that my voice sounded like Mickey Mouse and passed out about 8:30.  Thankfully, I had an appointment with Dr. C this morning and was able to process some of this.  Not a lot, I had to go to work after and didn't want to be a big ball of tears, but process enough to get through my day. 

Anyway, the last link that I have to my family is Facebook.  And seeing all the pictures that they are posting about the weekend and how much fun they had hurts.  It hurts a lot.  I miss being a part of that.  I miss the security of knowing that I had such a large extended family around.  I grew up pretty close with my cousins, and was hopefully that my kids would have had the same experience.  I am now in the debating stages of whether I should "defriend" my family so that I don't have to see the pictures or see the updates.  I was not able to verbalize this to Dr. C at our appointment, so I sent her an e-mail to ask her thoughts and opinions.  I am also going to post the question on DepressionForums.org to see what my peers say....

In other news, I made another step in the right direction today, and since I am learning to celebrate little achievements, this counts!  I talked with a co-worker about my depression and found out that she has struggled with depression herself since she was 11.  She, too, takes medication on a daily basis....OMG....it's so nice to know that there is someone in the office that I can go to if I am having a rough day who will truly understand what I am going through!  I didn't go into great detail with her about what the past 2 years have been like, but we talked meds and therapists until I had to see a student (don't you hate it when work gets in the way of the fun?).  I was already very friendly with her and I think this just makes me feel more comfortable in my new work space!  What a great way to end a bad weekend......

I heart Klonopin

Really.  It's my drug of choice.  It makes (almost) everything better...Almost.   Dr. C says it's like aspirin, you take it when you need a quick fix and 20 minutes later you are feeling better.  Yup, pretty much.

Today, I woke early with Little A, who doesn't know how to sleep past 7AM.  We watched some TV, snuggled a little, made breakfast.  It wasn't long before the rest of the clan was awake, and I made J and I our special weekend breakfast sandwich.  L and I hit up Walmart early because I cannot STAND the crowds and the type of people who are there later in the day.  And since we are hosting Father's Day tomorrow, there were a few things that I still had to get.  We were in and out, 20 minutes flat.

This afternoon, B, our summer nanny and babysitter extraordinar, took the kids for a few hours so that we could get Big A and L birthday presents.  I cannot believe that they will be 6 and 7 this week!  We hit up Toys R Us, crowded and filled with kids who were whining and crying and parents who were literally pushing other adults out of the way in the aisles.  It was insane!  We were able to get Big A her Lalaloopsy and the Scooter she wanted, and splurged a little and got L a karaoke machine. A little more then we had intended to spend, but they are worth it. 

Anyway, I could feel myself getting anxious and overwhelmed with so many people and so much noise, and was ready to leave the store after about 15 minutes.  The checkout lines were ridiculous, and by the time we reached outside of the store I was feeling the tightness of panic in my chest.  And, against my better judgement, we still had to go back to Walmart because I had forgotten a few things.  Let's just say, there is a reason that I don't go to Walmart in the afternoon.  Holy cow.  I know that there is a place in the world for everyone, but still.  It made the panic and anxiety so much worse.  We stopped at McD's for Diet Cokes and rushed home to get my meds....and now, about 30 minutes later, I am feeling much better.   The kids are running around the house playing with water guns that J bought for tomorrow and I am choosing to ignore until someone gets hurt.  And someone always gets hurt.  My kitchen and living room are clean and smell great, we just need to pick up the bathroom and front hall for tomorrow.....now tomorrow....Father's Day at my house, that will be a true test of Klonopin and its magical powers....

Bits and Pieces

I suppose that I could scribble out my life story for you here, but then that would leave me nothing to blog about on days that my mind draws a blank.  So, we'll just tell it in bits and pieces.

Right now my family consists of me, my husband (let's call him J), and my three children : L, Big A, and Little A.  We have a dog and a cat and a tank full of fish.  Our house is a standard 3 bedroom-two bathroom ranch in a little subdivision just north of Chicago.  J and I both work; he has been at his company in the IT department for over 15 years and I work as an advisor at the local community college.  We are doing "well-enough" right now, no extravagant trips to Hawaii or Disney world, but we pay the mortgage, the kids go to Catholic school, and we have a little money for pizza on the weekends.  Overall, it should be a happy life.  It should be everything that I want.  But, as fellow depression-junkies will tell you, should doesn't mean anything when you are down.

My latest round of depression started in September 2011.  Just about 21 month ago.  Long time, and yet it seems like yesterday.  I was in the process of getting psychological clearance to have lap-band surgery (more on this to come) and after meeting with the psychologist, well, things just started to fall apart.  My current therapist, Dr. C, describes it as "ripping the bandage off of years of pain and leaving me there to bleed."  Except the bleeding was more of a hemorrhage and quickly started to get out of control.  I was placed on medication that I swear made me even more crazy, I was placed into day programs to learn methods of coping (umm...big failure there), I was hospitalized when it seemed like my doctors didn't know what else to do with me.  It wasn't until January of this year when I started working really hard with Dr. C that things started to calm down a bit.  (Note:  I actually started to work with her in October of 2012, but due to my needing to build trust and other issues, the real work didn't start until January.)

So, here I am now.  Back at work after being on leave since October 2012, learning how to put depression aside during the day so I can concentrate on being a mom, a wife, a good worker.  Then at night, I curl into my beloved bed, pull up the covers, let J rub my back, and release the demons.

Bits and Pieces for today....more to come tomorrow...