it could be worse

Tuesday, 12/27/16, 1:15pm

Sometimes a day hits that feels nearly impossible to get through. Sometimes it's a few days in a row. And sometimes it feels like months.

These last many months have been very difficult. Adam died in May, which sucked and still sucks and will always suck to whatever extent. We've been changing medications around since like September, which hasn't been going all too well.

Nasser and I have been talking about my depression, and the course of it over the several years. Certain things about it have never felt acceptable, considering the treatment options out there, and the treatments I've tried, both medicinally and therapeutically. The level of low that I get, like intensity, the frequency of my lows. We've tried to look back on the various medications I've attempted and said to ourselves, "maybe that one did work better than I remember." To be honest, it's probably more me that's been doing this than us. I think Nasser would prefer that we look less at the past and keep trying to move forward.

I've been feeling super ashamed about my depression lately all the time. I thought it was helping me to be more honest about it, like with the blogging, but it's also super difficult and sometimes oftentimes just hurtful towards myself. I expect, or wish, for my depression to be treated more like physical illnesses. I expect people to be forward about their support, and many are. But the overwhelming silence is hard. That's the place that breeds me coming up for reasons for why that is. Do people just see me as the weak idiot who can't control her emotions, which is what I fear about myself constantly? Maybe responses of "get over it" and "stop feeling sorry for yourself" aren't any better since those totally accept the stigma that it's all my fault.

The effing stigma. The effing self-stigma. It's like depression, and especially suicide, would be less prevalent without the stupid effing stigma. And most people out there don't get it. If there's less stigma, how do those thoughts of "I'm just a burden to everyone around me" breed anyway? I really wonder what would happen to our world if we all stopped stigmatizing those with an illness, mental or physical?

Just. Fuck. Sometimes, it's just fuck. The world is fuck. The stigma is fuck. This day is fuck.

Excuse my language. Had to get that out though.

Also on top of the effing depression today, there's the sad business of people dying. Like Carrie Fisher. Ugh. Death sucks.

everyday (everyday) I try, and I try, and I try

Wednesday, 12/21/16, 8:57am

I am in a hole this morning. One of those stupid stupid holes that shouldn't be there, that should never have made me fall, there was no fucking good reason for it, and yet it happened.

I hate depression so much. You know, it really is not just a matter of "thinking positively" or powering through or whatever else you may be thinking. It's there and nothing seems to give relief these days. I try and I try and I try, and it doesn't work.

Imagine that the thoughts that occur in your brain can't be trusted. Imagine that you are expected to question every thought that pops in that head, and you're a failure if you trust the wrong thought. That's what it feels like to have depression, and really it may feel that way for most mental illnesses. Oftentimes, my brain will interpret something as hurtful, or judging, and I discover (or Nasser points it out to me) that the interpretation might be wrong, and I just cycle downward that much more. I discover that my brain has failed me again, that I have failed myself by not questioning those thoughts and I didn't stop myself from feeling hurt or sad or depressed by those thoughts, and yet again, I've been proven to be a failure.

A failure.

That is my hot thought, almost every time. And everything that I look at within myself seems to prove that thought more and more when I'm depressed.

Mindfulness is supposed to help. Cognitive behavioral therapy is supposed to help. Medications are supposed to help. Am I a failure because these things aren't helping enough? Because maybe I'm just not involved in my own mental health as I should be?

I don't know. I really don't know.

No.

It's not a failure because it's a disease. It's not a failure because my disease is likely "treatment resistant" at this point. It's not a failure.

I am trying. I've been trying. For a long. fucking. time.

And I guess I will keep trying. Forever and ever and ever even though that just sounds like a life sentence this morning.

I am not a failure.

Because I try. Because I care. Because I love. Because.

viumbe vyote vya mungu wetu

Friday, 12/09/16, 11:33am

I haven't written in over a week, and maybe that hasn't been the best choice, but it's also kinda just been the same old. Partially I don't feel like I have much to update. I still feel like I'm working hard to avoid those breakdowns, and I'm exhausted at the end of the night, every night. Maybe that's a side effect of all the medications.

Tonight and Sunday afternoon are choir concerts. RG and me. He is in one of the children's choirs; I am super proud of him. And I have a solo in these concerts. So kinda exciting. And kinda a big deal, but I haven't really been thinking about it much. Well that's not quite true. I have been practicing a lot, and I randomly burst into my solo to get another run-through. But until typing about it now, I've been avoiding the nerves. Crap, now I'm nervous. At least the Friday night concerts aren't as well attended. So maybe I'll feel more ready for it.

One of the hard things about this time of the year is all the social gatherings and plans and things to do. I'm having a difficult time being "social" right now, being peppy and happy and whatever else that's expected. We have a holiday party to attend tomorrow night, one where many of our favorite people in this area will be in attendance, but I'm finding myself with lots and lots of social anxiety. I missed several parties last weekend due to the hit of a bad day, and I'm already terrified that this weekend will be a repeat.

I'll do what I can. My biggest priority for this weekend is the choir concerts.

PS, y'all, since I think few who read my blog would guess the song on the post title. It's a tough one though. That line is my solo. It's Swahili.

and some just clap their hands, or paws or anything they got now

Wednesday, 11/30/16, 8:15am, 9:37am

I need to get out of this minefield of depression holes. And I'm working hard to do so, but it often feels like I'm not making progress.

And the thing that's making me most worked up this morning is some trolls on the internet. Sigh. Not important stuff, not worth getting worked up about, and yet I still do it.

More importantly though. I had a psychiatric appointment yesterday, on a really awful day depression-wise. We talked about my depression levels, we talked about the newer medication we recently added for anxiety, we talked about my mood tracking app which I've been incredibly good about, and we talked about what is an acceptable level of mood. We are trying one last antidepressant. One that is a different class of drugs than the others I've tried. It's a last ditch effort, one we don't believe has a whole lot of likelihood to work (enough), but we need to prove to the insurance company that we really have tried a good gamut of meds and we're ready to call this treatment-resistant depression.

Treatment-resistant depression.

I'm sure most people can figure out what that means, but for more of a definition, as per Wikipedia:
Treatment-resistant depression (TRD) or treatment-refractory depression is a term used in clinical psychiatry to describe cases of major depressive disorder (MDD) that do not respond adequately to appropriate courses of at least two antidepressants. 

As from WebMD though:
Some researchers define TRD as a case of depression that doesn't respond to two different antidepressants from different classes. Other experts say that a person needs to try at least four different treatments before depression can be truly considered treatment-resistant.


Interesting, no really clear definition and criteria for this. I think we're trying to be sure that we're following whatever criteria the insurance companies have, which is almost certainly on the stricter side.

For my experience, I'm currently on tries #4 and now #5 antidepressants. #1 for me increased suicidal thoughts, with little depression relief, #2 caused weight gain without enough depression relief, #3 was a branch into a different class of antidepressants, helped a fair amount but required adding an anti-psychotic to really help and eventually wasn't enough after Adam died, #4 is in the same class as #3 but also not enough relief, does very little (for me) for anxiety which is why we added a daily med for anxiety. Now #5 is another class of drugs, one in which I've not tried before. Some of the side effects could increase anxiety potentially, but hey, now I'm on the increased dosage of the daily med for anxiety, oh and I also have the increased dosage of the "as needed" anxiety med.

Jeez, I'm on a lot of meds. For reference, here's my daily meds currently, morning and night. My doctor actually apologized yesterday for how many medications I'm on. But it's not like it hasn't been necessary.

Let's get back to the treatment-resistant depression thing. So if we try this last antidepressant with little relief, then it's time for some more serious treatment options. The one my doctor would like us to try first, is called Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS). From the Mayo Clinic,

Transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS) is a noninvasive procedure that uses magnetic fields to stimulate nerve cells in the brain to improve symptoms of depression. TMS is typically used when other depression treatments haven't been effective.

It doesn't sound nearly as scary as the other option. TMS would be an intense treatment though during (45 minutes a day in the office, every day, for a month) but has the potential to remove all depression symptoms, which of course, sounds incredible. But then, it's less likely to work for someone who has depression which has lasted for several years.

The more scary treatment option, which has had some good success, is called Electroconvulsive Therapy (ECT). From the Mayo Clinic,

Electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) is a procedure, done under general anesthesia, in which small electric currents are passed through the brain, intentionally triggering a brief seizure. ECT seems to cause changes in brain chemistry that can quickly reverse symptoms of certain mental illnesses. It often works when other treatments are unsuccessful.

Honestly I knew very little about ECT before yesterday in the appointment, but it is terrifying enough that I am choosing not to read all about it until that becomes a more serious treatment option. My doctor told me with ECT, the treatment would be 3 times a week, for a month as well, but it basically takes you out for the day, obviously you can't drive to and from, and I would bet that I wouldn't be able to care for my children on those days. ECT has a common side effect of reducing memories made just before and during treatment.

Now, I know, I know, I may be getting ahead of myself in even discussing these treatments, but they were both discussed in rather serious detail in the doctor's office yesterday. I'm thinking they may not be too far off on the horizon, but again, I'll give this new antidepressant a fair chance. I'm two pills in only, but yeah the post antidepressant treatments are already scaring the shit out of me.

But we keep trying. Oftentimes Nasser is the only one of us who can hope for me; I rarely have that hope anymore when it comes to my depression. I suppose I need to expect that I will continue to live with depression, even if I end up trying TMS or ECT. If something works, it would be life-changing, but hoping for it can make my depression hit that much worse, when it inevitably hits.

Sigh, my hopeful message today is simply "we keep trying."

And some cute pictures of Buddy the cat to cheer us up a little. He really missed us when we were in Steamboat, although we had some awesome cat sitters checking up on him almost every day, and we missed him too. He gets a bit worked up when I wear long skirts apparently and wants to play underneath them...

but see how the wind it blows, all the birds scatter and I’m out here alone

Sunday, 11/27/16, 12:28pm

Today is one of those slipping at the edge of a deep dark hole kinda days. One where every once in a while I feel like I'm sitting there, with my butt just barely on the edge but enough to rest. And then it feels like I slip again, with Nasser or a friend reaches down to hold one of my limbs and helps me climb back up.

I think being out of reality in Steamboat Springs this past week has been wonderful but also, well, out of reality. I pushed away the depression and anxiety when it hit, I guess until now. Yesterday was my birthday, Thursday was Adam's. They were ok days in fact, all things considered. Better than I expected at least. Maybe all those feelings were just delayed until today.

I happened to glance at the subject line of a Quora Digest from yesterday, entitled "What is the loneliest thing in the world?". I have not yet looked at the answers, right now I cannot. But I can start formulating my own answer.

I would venture to say, as one who suffers from depression and anxiety, that the deepest, darkest feelings of depression is the loneliest thing in the world. That state, that one that breeds those darkest feelings of despair, is so lonely, that you are incapable of seeing those parts of your life that are not lonely. When I am starting to feel despair about my life, I think that everyone around me is judging and hating me and would rather I not exist. That's a big part of what breeds the suicidal thoughts.

To me, yes, a state of life and love and health and companionship and community and many other wonderful things often prevent people from feeling lonely. However, the state of depression will typically remove the ability to see the good. To see what's all really wonderful and what's to be thankful for. The state of depression makes it all lonely.

And then there's the stigma. I know, I know, here I am talking about the stigma again. But. I do believe that the stigma prevents us sufferers from sharing with eachother oftentimes. I write this blog, and I know, from people sharing with me once in a while about their own struggles, that I am not alone. But depression still feels very lonely. I don't feel much more able to reach out for help or support usually, other than to blog or to send a vague text to a friend. Of course, I reach out to Nasser all the time, since he sees my depression regularly and is really the only person in the world who really, truly gets what my struggle is. He sees it day in and day out and knows about every single depressive breakdown, even if he only finds out into the recovery. I don't know what I would do without him.

Today I'm writing, but I don't feel all the warm and fuzzies about the blog as I usually do. Today I feel like a failure and that totally and completely extends to my feelings about my blog. It also feels like a failure and a waste and perhaps something to just scrap. I do feel that way about my blog sometimes, when I'm feeling really bad or I've had another vulnerability hangover; I feel like I should delete its existence. There is too much awful stuff about me for others to read and know. How can I let that exist and be available? I don't know and I'm often not sure I will forever. Sometimes it is just too painful to share.

I will leave with some non-depressive thoughts. I have some pictures from the week. My constant pajama-wearing kiddos played some card games, also enjoyed being kids with eachother, also tried some fun new activity mats, and learned how to better use chopsticks.

More games pictures. :)

Believe it or not, we made it onto the slopes for a bit on Friday. It was not too successful and we made it down one long run, switching between green and blue difficulty, but the boys (and we) were super grumpy by the end. Some newish snow on top of packed icy stuff was not great and some sections were a bit too steep for the boys as it was the first run of the season. I have no photographic proof of this skiing adventure since we were all way too grumpy.

Nasser made me a mocha and yummy breakfast for my birthday yesterday morning...

And here's our best family photo from Thanksgiving, all. Love to everyone.

but the fire is so delightful

Tuesday, 11/22/16, 8:50am, 10:12am

I haven't wanted to blog. My last two posts were more political, and I'm sure I probably offended somebody. I still stand by how I felt when I wrote them, and I stand by how I still feel. Regardless of how much I get called "crybaby" or "sore loser" or whatever else. There's been a lot of name calling. If you haven't figured out by now that I have some real, pretty valid concerns about the Trump administration and the hate crimes that have been going on, then I suppose you would name call. The same people that name call are the same people that don't listen to other people are the same people who refuse to tap into that empathy that they are born with.

Because I do think to some extent we are born with empathy. Children typically are empathetic. Babies "sympathy cry" with eachother when they're near another baby that cries. And most children stop to comfort when another person is upset or hurt. I think we can always nurture our empathy further, some need to more than others. And at a certain point in life, many people push their empathy away. We are taught that feelings are bad and we should hide them. Men are expected to be "tough guys" and women are taught that crying in public is weak and in order to make it in the working world, we are forced to hide all emotion. Empathy, on the other hand, forces you to face all the emotions. In order to empathize, we must try to feel what someone else is feeling. We recognize a feeling in others and we admit that yes we have felt this before in this instance or whatever and we allow ourselves to feel some semblance of that emotion again.

Let's do a quick refresher on empathy. You all remember Brené Brown, right? Here again is that empathy cartoon she narrates that's always worth re-watching.

Brené says that you must be vulnerable in order to be empathetic. You must feel a little of what the other person is feeling, and that's not easy. Most people don't want to be upset and avoid it at all costs. So it ends up beings difficult to try and gain support from others when things aren't going your way. You see this on platforms such as facebook. It's those new baby, new job, new house, amazing vacation posts that get the most attention. People generally scroll past the things that bother them or make them uncomfortable or bring up feelings that force them to be vulnerable. And I suppose that's somewhat fair since most people are turning to facebook to get some sort of mindless break from reality. (I'm not dissing those that spend time on facebook, I do it too, a lot). I'm not sure I use facebook the same way as the general population. I have "liked" so many different news organizations, professional athletes, people like Brené Brown and Cheryl Strayed and Glennon Doyle Melton, my favorite senators, comedians, NAMI, etc that I get a lot more out of my facebook experience (I feel) than just catching up on all my friends' lives. Lately I've additionally appreciated the support from politically like-minded people there. Not to go on a tangent about facebook, but there are some good things about it.

We are spending this Thanksgiving week in Steamboat Springs, as a break from life and work and school and commitments and reality. Adam's (Nasser's brother, who as you may recall, passed away in May) birthday falls on Thanksgiving this year, mine two days later, and we are expecting both to be potential triggers. The place we've got is super nice, 2 bdrm, 2 bathroom, great amount of space for us, has a hot tub, and it's super convenient to the free shuttle. We actually did take that shuttle yesterday into town to go to the hot springs pools. There's a climbing wall, coming out of one of the pools, in 10ft deep water, that RG and I attempted, but never accomplished, several times. Nasser, of course, rang the bell at the top on his first try. His extra height is what helped him so much; that's my story at least.

So far though, we haven't done much. We've each done a lot of what we each want to do. There's been a fair amount of video games as well as some house design planning,

TK and I are the only ones to have tried the hot tub so far- it's awesome though, RG and I played Ticket to Ride yesterday,

Nasser and I played Red 7 the day before, the boys have been trying out the Playstation 3 that's in the master bedroom.

We've all been eating and relaxing A LOT.

We have a few more things we may do, although some are dependent on the snow conditions on the mountain (the ski resort is supposed to open officially to the public on Thursday, but we'll see if that happens), we have lots more board games to try (several that Nasser and I enjoy but haven't attempted with the kids yet), more hot springs to potentially check out, and more relaxing to do. I like this trip so far.

Today's view.

Also my children truly are Colorado kids. This is how they dressed for the road trip to get here.

sing with me, sing for the years, sing for the laughter, sing for the tears

Tuesday, 11/15/16, 4:38pm

Sigh. I'm hurting. So much right now, not just from the election, and the rhetoric on both sides right now, but also I'm hurting as a woman right now. I'm hurting in my own skin.

I have some things to tell you, dear blog, that I've never told anyone other than Nasser before. Sigh. Here goes.

You know, I've never considered myself a "sexual assault" survivor, but there were several experiences thoughout my post-puberty life that were not good, a little traumatic, and give me shame, each with varying degrees. After discussing some of these with Nasser more recently (honestly, Trump's 2005 Access Hollywood tape triggered a lot of these memories and made me analyze them more), I am starting to realize it's really scary that I felt like I couldn't say no at the time in some of these circumstances (hmmm, that's not entirely true, but I was too scared to get forceful to make it stop). God, I mean, why, as women, do we feel that we can't say no? Or we say no and it's ignored? Or we have to push someone off of us when we're too drunk to physically do it and can only say no every couple seconds? Or we're judged as it's our fault for being too drunk to fight off a man or to say no? Or we have to deal with a random stranger in an unfamiliar city touching us or grabbing us as they walk by only to be lost in the crowds as we turn around? Or we have to have a first kiss (oh yeah, a first kiss ever) with his hands flying around under our shirt? Or we learned to clarify during a first kiss with a new guy, "hey, I'm not going to have sex with you tonight" just to be sure the expectations are there immediately? Or a guy we just met that night requests that we jerk him off and we somehow feel an obligation because what, he was nice to us for half an hour? Or we have to listen to our much older, male coworker refer to a mechanical part as a "titty"? Or we have to not give the middle finger to the pig who just cat called us from across the street while we're out for a run or a bike ride? Or we feel shame for feeling powerless to ask for more pay or vacation time when we were more qualified than the job?

Oi.

I want to curl up under the covers of my bed and hide from the world now, but no. I can't let these things get me down because here I am, expected to be weak and submissive as a woman yet expected to not get raped/harassed/assaulted/touched unwantingly. Like you can have both, you effing idiotic rape culture. And this culture was just further worsened by the rise of Donald Trump and many of his followers.

But no. Again. Anger won't get me anywhere. I let out that anger in my political post yesterday, today I shared about some really shitty, shameful experiences.

I was saddened by a friend telling me about 2 sick family members today and got frightened of what I could become if I stopped treating my own mental illnesses. I was empowered by another friend's creation of a group of kindred spirits in changing the world, for which she felt I belonged. And I write on, even though I have felt so disheartened lately.

well I've heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music, do you?

Monday, 11/14/16, 9:37, 11:29am (but also, Wednesday, 11/09/16, 8:42am, 6:30pm; Sunday, 11/13/16, 8:12am)

I've been going back and forth on what to say in my blog since waking up last Wednesday morning. I feel I need to say some things, but too many different thoughts have been floating around in my head that it's taking time to process and think. Nasser suggested just not writing about it, but I cannot.

I don't typically get all political in my posts, other than about mental illness perhaps, but I have some things to express concerning the election last week.

Since last Tuesday night, I have felt horror, shame, embarrassment, disappointment, disgust, anger, anxiety, concern for the future, extreme sadness bordering on depression. Scratch that, I was in total depression for a good 2.5 days. The election and the aftermath have been extremely triggering.

We elected Donald Trump. I cannot believe it still. We elected a racist, misogynistic, narcissistic con man who doesn't seem to care about anyone but himself. We elected someone who has called for a ban on people of an entire religion to enter our country, someone who has bragged about sexual assault, someone who has been accused of sexual harassment and assault, who has called Mexicans rapists, has called for a wall dividing our country from Mexico (although I hear in recent days he's been backing away from that?), he has insulted a war veteran and the family of a fallen soldier, he insults and belittles women constantly and reduces us to our looks. He is not someone who, I think, belongs in the oval office and certainly not someone I want my kids to look up to in any possible way.

Luckily my kids are already aware of some of this stuff. (Certainly not much of it since so much of the stuff that comes out of Trump's mouth is inappropriate for 8 and 5 year old boys!)

Since the election, I've read about the atrocities of racism on the rise (horrid racial slurs written in high school bathrooms, African American students getting added to an online chat hate group which threatened lynching [WHAT THE FUCK], Muslim women getting harassed about wearing the hijab, middle schoolers chanting "build the wall" at the minority students), all in Trump's name. At least last night he made his first move to separate from these hate crimes, while also criticizing the anti-Trump protests, which, please remember, people have the right to do. Of course, I do not condone any of the violence, the vandalism, etc that has been associated with some of the protesting.

I think it was on election day, I joined the "secret" facebook group in support of Hillary (Pantsuit Nation) which has been an incredibly supportive and commiserative place for me and many others in this horrid time of our country. I've read there about women getting harassed, families being torn apart over hate, as well as messages of hope and love. The latter is what gets me through.

Now I get it, we have checks and balances although it doesn't help nearly as much when one party controls the presidency, senate, and house, although I wouldn't say the Republicans "control" the presidency really since Trump has always been a bit of a loose cannon. And I get it, Trump has backed away from many of the things he said he would do during his candidacy. Thank goodness. But the rhetoric he got elected with, the rhetoric that some people are running wild with, is what scares me the most. We don't need to go back 60 years with regards to women's rights, black rights, treatment of minorities and the LGBTQ community. We really don't need swastikas drawn on our buildings (any more than has already happened in the last week, again WHAT THE FUCK) and children in schools showing racism towards their fellow peers. This is the part that gets me the most and makes me cry every day. Yeah, call me a nasty woman, call me a crybaby if you will. You clearly don't get it if that's your conclusion after all this.

I'm pissed at our country, at those who voted for Trump because of his disgusting rhetoric as well as those who voted for him in spite of it. There is not "in spite of" in my mind. A vote for Trump is a big FUCK YOU to women and minorities. Clearly my rights as a female don't matter enough to these people. The rights of all people who are not white males don't matter enough to these people. That's terrifying.

I will finish with a couple things that have gotten me through. These memes of Biden and Obama are fantastic, as well as a few SNL skits including Kate McKinnon's performance of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" and Dave Chappelle's monologue.

Also on a completely different and happier note, we were in Estes Park yesterday visiting with some friends, and saw an elk cross the street right in front of us and spent some time about 5 feet away from 2 deer. Very very cool animal experiences.

just cos you feel it doesn't mean it's there

Monday, 11/07/16, 2:00pm, 3:37pm

I thought about blogging earlier when I had quite a bit of time, but now I'm in the mood to blog and I'll have to get the boys from the bus before finishing this post.

Also I wrote quite a bit before remembering what today is. Do you all know what today is, my dear readers? Today is my "blogiversary". I have no idea if that's a thing or not, but I'm calling it one. Last year, on November 7th, I wrote my very first post. And I'm not gonna link it for you. Because I just reread it and I feel ahem, like maybe I've come a long way? Yikes, I'm sure I still have a long way to go.

My kitty cat got me in the mood to blog today. Buddy the cat found me upstairs, looking at crockpot recipes for tomorrow, zoning out. I think we both needed some quality petting time. I feel like I've been neglecting him lately. Or maybe he's just good at making me feel like he desperately needs petting. That may be it.

We had Nasser's mom and stepfather in town this weekend, which was nice, but I felt awkward and ashamed and those stupid, irrational feelings, when I was down at various points in the weekend. I tend to feel that way around people when I feel depressed or anxious. Even though I desperately fight and hate the stigma around mental illness, I still stigmatize myself. Ugh. I hate that.

And it's not like either of them would judge me if I just talked openly about the depressed feelings over the weekend. But it's so hard to do that in the moment. Talking about it tends to open those flood gates of tears and could then even trigger a little further depression, or maybe that's just what I'm afraid of.

Nasser and I went to my psychiatric appointment together today. The outcome was the medication I'm on isn't doing enough to combat the anxiety and maybe my anti-anxiety med isn't a high enough dosage. Whew. More meds. But that's ok. That's not a failure. Right?

Sigh. No, it is not a failure.

I am definitely anxious about the election, cuz, ya know, that's tomorrow. Yikes. And I know I shouldn't get all worked about it, but it's kinda a big election.

Go vote people.

I will lay me down in a bunker underground

Saturday, 11/05/16, 10:44am

Well I feel like I've already got two failures for today. I was planning on attending this extra choir rehearsal this morning, and I think I had this vague plan on biking there. But this morning, while making pumpkin pancakes (because I also went and made that great suggestion last night. Delicious, but what was I thinking?), I finally started to think through the logistics and at that point I wouldn't have enough time to be able to get the bike ride in.

And although I was super bummed and stressed about not having the time to bike, I really tried to make it work to get myself to the rehearsal. I took my shower, fighting tears, got dressed and even made it into the car and down the street a little. But the tears were coming too strongly by then. And I turned around and sat in the driveway for awhile, even called Nasser to ask him to join me.

No choir today, no bike ride today. Maybe yoga soon. Sigh.

I'm not a failure. I'm not a failure. I'm not a failure.

I do make mistakes, and sometimes my anxiety and depression do get the better of me and plans change. That does not make me a bad person. That does not make me a failure.

And yet, there's that crushing feeling of failure everytime the depression hits. The feeling of "I let this happen to me". Why do I put such ridiculous stigma upon myself?? It's not like people "let" themselves get cancer, or "let" themselves have a seizure or migraine or whatever. These things happen to people and mental illness should also fall into the same category.

I'm doing a few things from my list to try and recover. Blogging, clearly, some deep breathing, next is yoga. I already took a shower in the midst of the breakdown, but maybe even more is needed. And maybe I still won't quite recover.

This one was bad. Like when Nasser was talking me down, I told him I couldn't go to choir because I didn't feel safe enough to drive. Then of course, even if he had driven me, I didn't feel well enough to be around other people.

It's gonna be OK. I can get through this. Maybe for a small recovery today.

insanity laughs under pressure we're breaking, can't we give ourselves one more chance

Friday, 11/04/16, 8:30am

I have limited time this morning, and I had several things on the agenda, but here I am blogging instead. Hopefully that ends up being a right decision. And I say "a" right decision, not "the" because I think I've always felt that multiple decisions in life could be right.

What I mean is, for example, when I was considering college, I felt that I could get a similar experience at multiple schools. For me, I never had to go "visit colleges" because I felt that there were many similar options and it would be too difficult to narrow down such similar places and then agonize over which school was "the right one". Plus, for me, I had one very obvious choice that I was gonna go through with. I lived in Illinois, so clearly the in state schools were going to be the best financial options. The University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign was great for engineering, which I was planning on pursuing, my siblings had all gone there and had great experiences, it was close but not too close to home, plus my brother would be there in his senior year, during my freshman year. And even though I really liked Madison, and the campus there, and there were some things I really liked about Wisconsin, I was too lazy to find scholarships to make it a good financial choice. And I don't believe that the education would have been significantly different, I'm so happy with the experiences I got at U of I, and I love the friendships I made that I wouldn't trade a single thing. But I do believe if I had gone with a different school, my experiences would have been just as "one of a kind" and special that I wouldn't trade anything there. There were many "right" options there, and so I wouldn't agonize over those.

I think I do agonize over things that have happened in my life more recently. I need to remember that had my life gone differently, there certainly would have been other challenges that wouldn't make that alternate universe life any better. And I love the big things in my life as it is. My children, Nasser, my friends and family.

So, not to quickly change topics, but I will anyway. I'm on this fantastically supportive and motivating group on facebook called MRTT (Moms Run This Town). It's a running group. :) One of the moderators of the group (in our local chapter, I don't follow any national one, but there are these groups all over the place), who I know in real life, and she is an amazing person, posted about having seen the movie, Embrace. You should watch the trailer, people, right now, here. Also I keep re-watching it, over and over this morning, and keep crying at the end. Watch it, even if you feel like you don't want to cry right now. It was tears of joy.

I have to figure out how and when I can see this movie, which I'm currently finding here. And yes, there is a screening coming up in my area that I might be able to make work and has availability, sa-weeeet. Mental note, must decide and buy tickets, like today. Haha.

My friend's post on the running group was an inspiration she had from watching this movie. She asked us to "tell us something that your body has enabled you to do that brings a huge smile to your face, something you are proud of!"

I responded that first off, my body birthed two children. And then I talked about these accomplishments from over the summer. I reposted this picture,

which for me really reminds me of how I felt after the Olympic triathlon, full of joy, and in tears over the feeling of my accomplishment. At the simple completion. Not over how great I felt or how awesomely I did, because I did not have much confidence in either at the time, but the pride in what my body did.

My friend, in her response, reminded me of what my body continues to do with regards especially to my children, in "feeding them, holding them, loving them". I did and do all that too. :)

It's good to feel pride in our accomplishments, whether they be of the body, or of the mind. I suppose that though it feels I haven't done much since those summer athletic accomplishments (which is totally NOT truly, Alisa, like remember the runs, the bike rides, the 14er attempt?), I've also made some mind accomplishments in blogging, in learning the right ways for me to reach out for support, and in mindfulness. I've switched medications which was and still is a challenge.

We're always making accomplishments with our minds and bodies, especially when we become more mindful and focused, but it's also good to recognize them, big or small, and remind ourselves of them when we're feeling low.

I've been taking a variety of photos the last few days. And I will finish with this random assortment.

morning sunrise

quality Buddy time, petting in the sunlight

I made pumpkin bread, in the crockpot. 

didn't work that well, overdone on the outside, because I cooked it so long 

to complete cooking of the middle. RG said he doesn't like this one as much. 

oh well, such are experiments.

I made whipped cream, to go with the pumpkin bread I guess?

hmmm, I've been forgetting about that existing in the fridge...

the Cubbies won the World Series, you guys. for the first time in 108 years. woah.

I love seeing one of our Cubs fans neighbors' pride on the way to/from our park/busstop.

(I say one of our Cubs fans neighbors because we have several...)

TK and I were making a list for the day. I wrote the stuff we "needed" to do, 

he wrote the stuff he wanted to do. I think we accomplished everything he wrote.

ah, I changed the sheets on our bed to comfy flannel sheets, because the nights have been cold.

also, Buddy the cat, may have felt a little trapped while I was making the bed.

a bunch of shots of my TK buddy from yesterday. he was dancing to snoopy music videos, biking with me running, and playing at the park. although my mood wasn't up to par yesterday, we did a lot. 

in this town of Halloween

Tuesday, 11/01/16, 9:12am

Wow, it's November already. My "blogiversary" is coming up in just a few more days. It'll be a year that I will have been writing.

It's weird to think how much the blog means to me. How much I come back to it, even just to reread earlier posts. I'm quite sure it helps me a lot; my therapist most recently pointed out how when I've talked about it, I've only basically raved about how much it helps me. Hah.

On my run yesterday, I think I was practicing mindfulness decently well. I kept taking pictures- selfies and scenery. It's been a long time since I've ran. It felt really good for the first mile and a half, but then the rest wasn't so great especially with the foot pain from my (relatively) new shoes.

I think my shoes are a half size too small. Crap.

Actually if they made them in quarter sizes, I would be set. I need to be a women's 8.75 size. Haha. 9.25 in running shoes.

My run was fantastic in so many ways. Late fall beauty and late summer temps.

2.99 miles total (there was no way in hell I was going to force myself to get that extra 0.01 miles yesterday), not too shabby, but I wish it all had felt much better. And I wish my feet didn't hurt so much from the shoes. I feel like I've now run in them too many times to return them. Crap.

Then after the run, after eating something and taking a shower, I proceeded to face paint. 

It really didn't look right at the first part of the day, the Halloween parade at the boys' school, since I only had time for the white. But I looked creepy as hell at school. Hah!

RG was a kitty of course, but barely looked like he was in costume (he wore mostly black with a tail and ears). Sigh. Oh well. I suppose I was selfish with effort towards costumes this year, but the boys only wanted to be kitties! And had no interest in face painting on whiskers.

I'm the bad mom who didn't capture any good photos of the boys yesterday, and the parade was difficult to get a good shot of RG anyway, but I did get some good ones of the principal leading the parade, dressed as a construction contractor (funny to everyone there because they're currently undergoing construction of the new school on the same campus, so this entire school year is nuts with school continuing in the old building and construction going on of the new building). Anyway, literally the entire gym was chuckling at his costume and demeanor. I love our kids' school! Also, in a previous year, he dressed up as Matt Smith as the Doctor.

I was not the only parent who dressed up. Thankfully. There were few of us though. Sigh.

Here's the best I looked later on in the afternoon.

But then something happened. RG and I got into a fight about quitting the Kindle time (he really hadn't had much though at that point) and getting to Nasser's work for trick-or-treating there. It all just went to hell. RG stormed off upstairs saying he wasn't going and then eventually when we were all on the phone with Nasser talking it through, I got further depressed. I ruined a bunch of the face paint, then said well now I can't go anywhere and we decided to skip the work trick-or-treating and Nasser came home. Poor TK was especially disappointed in that I think. Sigh.

I recovered. Miraculously. It took some time, the kids got some "educational shows", which was fine in a lot of ways because I think they needed that downtime to do well later too. Nasser and I touched up my face, a lot, and then we headed out.

It ended up being a good night. Quality time spent with neighbors, some of whom we haven't known as well. There were two wagons brought along in the group, with adult beverages. I, of course, skipped that part, which was fine. It all was fun, we laughed, we scolded kids when they were climbing over too many bushes to shortcut their way to the next house, we reminded them to say thank you. And when we hit our cul-de-sac, our little family cut out a tad early. We needed it, we needed the time at home for the kids to peruse their candy before getting to bed, a tad later than normal, which was about where we needed it to be.