Breathe, keep breathing

Sunday, 12/13/15, 12:29pm

Fasten your seatbelts. I'm going to take you on my depressed ride.

I feel like a failure. I feel like I am the scum of the earth, I'm a terrible mother, I'm a terrible wife. I don't deserve the life I claim to have.

The tears are finally coming a little slower so I am attempting to write. Every so often still, I have to take a break because I can't see through them.

Breathe in, breathe out. Nice and slow. Those help stop the tears.

Why? Why? Why? Why can't I live a normal life?

I think we might be coming to the conclusion that maybe there are 2-3 things I need to do every f***ing day in order to prevent these episodes. And they're not little things either.

1) Exercise helps. And typically not a wimpy workout. Ideally I'd be getting in at least an hour every day. Ideally I'd wake up early and start my day with it before the kids wake up.

2) Blogging helps. I think I need to write every morning, if I can. Maybe I can fit in an hour for that after RG goes on the bus every day. TK can entertain himself for an hour every morning, right?

3) Yoga, meditation, mindfulness exercises help. These are important, but I have no idea where to fit them in yet.

How can I take up even just 2 hours of my day to activities to prevent a depressive episode? I would have to sacrifice other things (sleep, time with my family, time in the evening with Nasser before going to bed) in order to make this work. And there's no guarantee that doing these things, with other sacrifices, will absolutely prevent an episode.

I hate my depression. It is the bane of my existence.

I know. I need to look at the positives. My depression makes me stronger. It gives me more empathy. It gives me my purpose of sharing my mental illness experiences with others.

Omygod. The anxiety over the rest of the day and thinking of the things that I haven't been able to accomplish today, plus this afternoon's choir concert, is all overwhelming me. It feels like I can't breathe.

No. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Slow and steady. Breathe in. Breathe out. Keep breathing.

Breathing and anti-anxiety medication. Maybe that's my ticket out of this episode. And blogging. That has helped. Incredibly. I didn't think it would. I didn't want to do it. Nasser brought me my chromebook so that I could. Breathing. One step at a time. Become present and mindful. Sun shining. Snow on the ground. You can do this, Alisa.

You can do this.

Breathe, keep breathing.

I guess you witnessed a recovery ride rather than much of a depressed ride. Now time to attempt life again.

You can do this.

Breathe, keep breathing.

Update: Sunday, 12/13/15, 3:05pm

I made it to the choir concert. I don't know how. After blogging, the rollercoaster of depression and recovery kept continuing. Lots and lots of help from Nasser and my mom. I'm still on the edge, can't guarantee I won't have to walk offstage in tears. Or if a fellow choir member asks me how I'm doing, can't guarantee I won't breakdown again.

But breathe in. Breathe out.

I can do this. I think once I start singing, some autopilot may take over, my love of singing may take over. I'm hoping.

It's hard to look at anyone while we sit and wait our turn for our professional pictures. Will they see it in my expression? Don't think I could even fake a smile right now. Will they see it in my eyes? They're bloodshot and puffy. Will they see it in the way I'm sitting? I'm definitely a bit rigid, shoulders slightly hunched. Will they know what I'm typing on my phone?

I'm getting there. Probably doing the best thing possible for myself, blogging again.

Time to try.

Update: Sunday, 12/13/15, 5:13pm

Still breathing. Half the concert is done and I'll be going back out with the choir in a few minutes. I'll be distracted till the end so I think I'll be OK. Breathe in, breathe out. Almost done.