we are the champions, my friends

Thursday, 06/30/16, 6:01, 10:36pm (pacific time)

Oh my dear blog; I've missed you. It's felt far too long, although I am doing well.

I have two major athletic accomplishments to catch you up with.

Last Sunday was my Olympic Triathlon, the Boulder Sunrise. And I finished. It was hard, so so hard, in the end, although honestly it felt great for much of it. The swim was the start, with 1500 meters, out, around the 2 buoys, and back from the Boulder Reservoir swim beach. I remember thinking as I started running into the water, "ok, this is happening, I'm doing this." And I didn't think much again until the end.

The swim went well, my bike ride (26 point something miles, because yeah, I still haven't bothered to remember the exact distance) went well. I averaged a bit faster than I expected on both.

My sister, Audra, came to do the run with me. In transition between the bike and the run, Nasser was there on the other side of the fence to cheer me on and give me a kiss. He told me I was doing great and that I rocked the bike.

Then we started the run. And it was really tough. The transition for my legs to start running instead of their comfortable cycling was really tough. I started faster than I should have. And I realized how tired I was after more than 2 hours of exercise. And I remembered I forgot to fuel in transition. And I realized how hot it was.

We walked a lot in the first half of the 10k. And we went so so slow. At some point before the turnaround, we turned away from the Reservoir and along this weird, not super well maintained, path along a stream. And I started jogging again and kept going. Audra commented that I had been doing a lot better after turning on the path, and I hadn't even realized it. I think the path was a little less exposed to the sun, although not really shaded. And I think I realized we were close to the turnaround, which usually improves my running.

You know, thinking about it now, I think I do better in a single loop run rather than "out and back". I'm starting to think about my run today, but more on that in a minute.

I finished the run, with lots of support from Audra along the way, and Nasser, who walked out a ways to meet us, closer to the finish line. But he still walked/jogged with us for a good bit. (I have a very foggy perception of distance on much of this run).

It was hard, it was slow. I wasn't the very last person to finish, but I was close to it.

But I finished.

They gave me my medal, took my timing chip, and I almost cried with Nasser and Audra standing there after the finish line.

I finished.

It was my goal, and despite a blister, I finished it injury-free. With a smile on my face.

After the triathlon, Nasser and I had to rush to the airport to get our kids, who had just landed with Grandma. Luckily my mother-in-law had a bit of a layover and was super awesome with getting our kids lunch in the airport while we drove.

Then Monday we flew to Seattle! We drove north right away to the house we had rented near the water and near the border with Canada. So far the trip has been awesome. We went to the North Cascades on Tuesday, had a beach/lazy day on Wednesday while some of the group went to Canada. (We are staying here with my sister and their families as well as my parents. My brother and his son fly in tomorrow evening).

beautiful drive through Mt Baker-Snoqualmie Nat'l Forest

 

lots of snow! 

walking around on the snowfield 

Mt Shuksan

D made a handheld snowman 

the kids loved wading in Mirror Lake 

Wednesday's beach day

So a few months ago I signed up for this virtual half marathon, the She Power Half. The actual race was on Sunday, same as my triathlon, but you can do the virtual on your own a different day. I had kinda envisioned doing it sometime in August perhaps, so I could do a bit more training. But Audra mentioned a few weeks ago doing the half on this trip. I was a bit non-commital about it, but my other sister, Vida, decided to sign up for it too. I packed with the intention of "seeing how it goes".

This morning as we were finishing up breakfast and starting to talk about what we would do today, Audra said, "well, should we do the half marathon today?"

It actually was a great day for it, although we would have maybe done a little better had we started a little earlier. It never really got hot, but the overcast morning definitely turned into a sunny early afternoon.

The run went pretty well, although I rolled my ankle at about 11.5mi and Vida's plantar fasciitis aggrivated her a bit. We all finished though, tired and sore, but finished. We run/walked it and walked a bit more towards the end.

So yeah, maybe it's a little nuts to do an olympic triathlon and a half marathon all in one week, BUT I did it.

And that feels amazing.

on board, I'm the captain, so climb aboard. we'll search for tomorrow on every shore

Saturday, 06/26/16, 10:31am

You know, there have been a few terrifying incidents lately involving children and a large animal. In May, a 3 year old boy at a zoo slipped into a gorilla enclosure. The security team shot the gorilla and the boy survived. Then about a week and a half ago, a 2 year old boy was snatched and pulled into the water by an alligator. Although his father fought the alligator, the alligator got away with the child and the boy was devastatingly killed. Just a few days later, a mountain lion attached a boy in his backyard. This time, this mother was able to pry the cat's jaws open and save her son.

Each incident, while awful and terrifying and devastating in many ways, sparked some real controversy on the internet. There's anger and blame being thrown about, especially towards the parents in each of these cases, with little regard for the horror those involved have experienced. I read one of the most viral responses to the blaming, and felt most inclined to share that one. This mother of 4 blogger starts off with:

Parents, I beg of you, stop blaming and shaming other parents.

35 years ago, a mom shopping in a Sears department store went to go look at lamps, and left her six year old with another group of boys, who were all trying out the new Atari game at a kiosk. That boy’s name was Adam Walsh.

30 years ago, an 18 month old toddler playing in her aunt’s backyard fell into a well. Rescuers worked nonstop for 58 hours, finally freeing “Baby Jessica” from the well.

In both cases a tragedy happened, an unforeseen tragic accident took place which left Adam  dead, and a toddler fighting for her life deep underground. But they also has something else in common; they had an entire  country of moms and dads supporting the grieving parents. 

Let me repeat that, EVERYONE SUPPORTED THE RESCUE EFFORTS WITHOUT BLAME. NO BLAME. None. ZERO. 

No questions asked, not one single “Where were the parents?” comment. Just a country of other moms and dads, grandmas and grandpas watching in horror as a set of parents, one of their own, went through the unthinkable. Adam was our son. Jessica was our baby daughter. 

THOSE PARENTS WERE US. 

The rest is worth a read, but keep your tissues nearby for the end. The point is, you don't understand what they've experienced and are experiencing, so stop judging.

Of course, this is readily applicable to all aspects of life. You don't understand what others have experienced, so stop judging. You can attempt to understand, through empathy (oh what's that? I've mentioned that word before? you're right, here, here, and here just to name a few).

Nobody is perfect, everyone makes mistakes. Practice a little empathy and know that you make mistakes too. Again, this is applicable to all aspects of life. Every relationship, every interaction.

I'm not perfect either. I certainly have a lot of trouble empathizing with Donald Trump and understanding why he says such horrible and horrifying things. Speaking of which, also read this sometime. It's Aziz Anzari's essay, "Why Trump Makes Me Scared for My Family". Very very worth the read. And practice empathy as you read it.

A friend passed this article on to me, which highlights a study done by Northwestern University showing that a third of women, 37% actually, experienced depression while pregnant. I'll paste just a little bit.

Their data showed 37 percent said they experienced depression during the nine months of pregnancy, 25 percent pre-pregnancy and 38 percent during the postpartum period.

Everything from infertility to sickness to undergoing an enormous life change — to seeing others' happy belly bump photos on social media while not feeling similarly happy — can be part of a depression equation, women said in a previous report.

The women in the 2015 Chicago Tribune story spoke of depression so serious it meant delaying a second child or even had led to suicidal thoughts.

Despite more awareness around postpartum depression, that time period was least severe, researchers found.

I've wondered in the past whether or not my depression started while pregnant, and now I feel more confident to say that it did. I always felt like something was especially wrong with me because I wish that pregnancy hadn't "made me depressed". I've felt a lot of guilt over that, honestly. This week, since the kids have been in Chicago, I've felt less depressed and felt guilt over that. I start worrying that the kids "made me depressed". Certainly I'm more stressed, but that's not really true. And I wasn't even free of depression without the kids this week anyway. But my thoughts go there, and I feel this incredibly heavy guilt with the primary triggering thought being "I am a terrible mother".

Gotta keep fighting that triggering thought with my "evidence against".

• I love my children
• I want what's best for my children
• I want my children to be happy
• When I put my children to bed in Chicago Thursday night this week, it made me calm, and relaxed, and happy
• I've been refusing to clean up their fort on the loft this week because I know they would be sad to see it gone when they come home tomorrow
• I typed "they come home tomorrow" and a smile came to my face

It helps me to think through the "evidence against" that stupid, triggering thought.

Knowing how common it is for women to experience depression both pre-natal and postpartum, makes me feel less shame around my illness. Did you know that even though I write about my depression and share it openly, I still feel shame and the fear of stigma around my illness? Oh I feel them deeply. And I fight them every single day. Sometimes I fight them by writing and sharing my blog. Sometimes I fight them by posting articles about mental illness on social media. Sometimes I fight them by recovering from a depressive episode. Sometimes I fight them by being a little more open about my depression with my children. Sometimes I fight them by simply getting out of bed in the morning.

Tomorrow is my triathlon. I've decided to do the longer distance, the Olympic. I'm a little terrified of the distances, really each of them. Each one is a push for me. Then it's all together too, so yeah. But I intend to finish, with no injuries and a smile on my face even if it doesn't quite happen until I cross the finish line.

does it feel left behind, all alone, all alone

Tuesday, 06/21/16, 3:25pm

I think I now know the vulnerability hangover. There's the glaring thought in my brain today of "what were you thinking, sharing your blog on facebook? most of those people barely know you!" I've just invited a whole bunch of people in to know me much much better.

Gulp.

Ok, but I chose to do that. Fully knowing these feelings may come. But many of these feelings seem petty and weak and... I feel awful and low over the thoughts going through my head. I feel like I should be stronger or something, but maybe my feelings are perfectly natural.

I need to remember my goal. (Really the number one goal is to help me; my blog provides my writing therapy). But I also hope that through my words I may help those who struggle with mental illness, help those who support people with mental illness, and break down the stigma a little bit at a time.

I refer to the stigma a lot around mental illness, but does everyone understand what it is and what it means? When I search "stigma", Google's first definition that pops up is:

stig·ma

ˈstiɡmə/

noun

1. 1.

   a mark of disgrace associated with a particular circumstance, quality, or person.

   "the stigma of mental disorder"

   synonyms:

   shame, disgrace, dishonor, ignominy, opprobrium, humiliation, (bad) reputation "the stigma of bankruptcy"

Notice how the first example is "the stigma of mental disorder". Now really, if someone has a disease of the brain, why the FUCK should they feel ashamed, disgraced, or dishonored in any possible way????

We need to all understand, mental illness is NOT in the control of the person who has it. It is within that person's control to seek treatment, however it is made harder to do so because of the debilitating fear of stigma.

The fear of being rejected, of being told it's your fault. The fear that others will think differently of you, that others will define you by your illness.

Those fears are not unfounded. Mental illness is so stigmatized, people are afraid to discuss it. Only in relevance to mass shootings, as one of the causes. That just makes the stigma worse.

Take a little break, and watch this episode of John Oliver's on Mental Health. He's got his facts straight. It's worth your time, even if you can only dedicate a minute to start it.

It's hard to watch it, and not be reminded of how our mental healthcare system failed Adam.

For me, stigma is a friend who has closed off to me ever since I became open about my illness. I notice those and they hurt. Stigma was not being able to get the right care from my ob-gyn because I mentioned the word depression. The fear of stigma is not wanting to go out in public when I'm depressed and I worry people will judge me. The fear of stigma was refusing to call the doctor when I first realized I was depressed. I had to get over that hump too. And that hump can vary in size between people. It's often worse for men, because society creates these strong man expectations and because depression is viewed as weakness.

Ugh, stigma. It makes us refuse to talk about mental illness and so makes these diseases incredibly lonely. I refuse to stop talking about it. Even if I stand alone.

lean on me, when you're not strong, and I'll be your friend

Monday, 06/20/16, 11:33am

Today's post is my 100th post. In about 7.5 months. I can't figure out if that feels like a lot or a little.

I told Nasser I want to make a mini cake for my 100th post. :) Somehow diet friendly.

I feel good about how far I've come in my blog.

The blog is a comfortable place for me to return to day in and day out. There aren't many days where I don't look at my blog or think about it in some way. Whether it's to think, ooo, I should write a blog post about what just happened, or if it's in a depressive episode, using my writing therapy to crawl back out of the hole.
I say crawl, not climb, (although I certainly picture these holes as having gravity) because in those moments, there is nothing that feels strong or heroic. Sometimes I look at my blog to reread old posts, and sometimes a friend sends me a note about my blog.

So far I've felt really good about sharing my blog more widely. I feel so honest and open. I know that this blog holds some of my deepest pains and yet I've chosen to share it with all who would read it. Brené Brown, writes about a "vulnerability hangover". I don't think I've quite gotten there yet but I still have time to royally freak out.

The support thus far has all been positive and caring and heartfelt. It warms my heart and I truly get why Brené says that vulnerability is key to wholehearted living. (If you don't know who Brené is, go to my last post for her empathy cartoon and a link to more on her).

My last post, I think, was the first post where I didn't mention Adam. Long term readers know Adam is Nasser's brother, who was killed last month. I still think about him every day, but I felt guilty that I didn't when writing my last post. And then there's a part of me that realizes that's ok.

Thank you, all you fine readers out there for following my life with depression. We've all come a long way since my first post.

I'll leave you with a lovely shot of the cherries I picked off our tree this morning. Today it's fight the birds day, when they're the ripest they'll be before we lose them to the animals.

And looking up into the tree yesterday morning.

threatened by shadows at night, and exposed in the light. shine on you crazy diamond.

Saturday, 06/18/16, 11:52pm/ Sunday, 06/19/16, 1:09am (it got late!)

I am not perfect. I am not perfect.

I can never be perfect.

Perfection is an illusion, an idea that doesn't actually exist, at least anywhere on earth. Human beings have yet to find perfection and yet to achieve perfection. I'd be tempted to say that math and science are perfect but then you have things that exist like irrational numbers and genetic mutations.

Some would say God is perfect. God, gods, Allah, whatever you call this being. Could be. But maybe perfection cannot exist, even for a god. I think the God I believe in is perfect. The God I believe in is not jealous, is not hateful, is not spiteful, does not favor one over another, and is pure.

I did a lot today. Audra joined me on my full brick workout this morning. ~20mi biking, much of it along US 36 between Boulder and Denver, along the new bike path,

AND almost 3mi running. Although could you call it running? It was a rather slow pace. But Audra is always kind enough to go at my speed (hah, she thought I was going at her speed when she was pushing the double stroller with two 30-40lb kids?). It felt great to get that much exercise in and feel more confident about this upcoming triathlon.

I also got my hair dyed. I wasn't quite sure what color I was going with when I walked in, but it ended up a red again. There's supposed to be a violet tint, which I can tell in certain lights. PS, I am not naked in these photos. The tank straps are behind all that lovely, gorgeous hair. Hah.

I had some really good friend time (you all remember Nasser and the boys are outta town right? Hence all the me time) this evening with 2 different friends,

and

I shared my blog on facebook.

(It is my personal jab at facebook that I refuse to capitalize their name on my blog. Even though Google tells me it's spelled wrong. I love facebook and I hate facebook. And I suppose I might hate that I love it sometimes too.)

I've been thinking about doing this for a very long time actually. And I finally decided to take the plunge today. I've mostly been avoiding looking on facebook since posting it, but I have checked (and read and commented) a few times.

There are lots of reasons I decided to do it. And in the end it felt like there was more to gain than to lose. I could bare my vulnerability to the world and dare greatly, as Brené Brown puts it (hey readers, remember her?), although the true credit for the phrase goes to Theodore Roosevelt. The part of his speech she quoted in the book, the famous part, I'll paste below, from "Citizenship in a Republic":

"It is not the critic who counts; 

not the man who points out 

how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds 

could have done them better. 

The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, 

whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; 

who strives valiantly; 

who errs, who comes short again and again, 

because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; 

but who does actually strive to do the deeds; 

who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; 

who spends himself in a worthy cause; 

who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, 

and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly..."

It is excruciatingly hard to be vulnerable. To share your story, share your pain. I do so only behind the safety of my Chromebook.

But I think the more we do so, the more we bring empathy into the world. And just in case I have any new readers who've never seen it, please check out the empathy cartoon below. It is still useful to those of us who have seen it many times. I will watch it with you now.

I think the best way to practice empathy is to share our stories and listen to each other's stories. You can never have the empathy if you don't listen as well. I hope I do so with my friends and loved ones. I try to.

Some people say the key to stopping mass shootings is to enact some gun control, others say we need more God in the world. Still others say we need to crack down on terrorism, while others say we need love. I think a big part of the equation is empathy. If you can empathize with others, you start to value each other more. You value human life more, you value working together more. You value your planet more, and you value your fellow human beings' rights and freedoms more. I think empathy is the key to it all. Here's my equation:

X (empathy) + y (love/morals/values/God) + z (reasonable limits on what weapons go into the power of what people, at all levels of society- civilian up through presidents/dictators) = a safer and happier world with fewer wars and deaths of all kind

take my hand, we'll make it I swear

Friday, 06/17/16, 5:12pm

I suffer from depression. Major depressive disorder. My long-term readers know this, but for anyone just joining us, there it is. If you'd like to read about how my disease manifested, go here.

A friend passed along a video called "What to say to your friend who has depression?" This is the absolute best thing I've seen on this topic. Watch it. Watch it right now.

The first time I watched it, I started crying. Because every single statement spoke to me. I often feel like a burden, a failure, not enough.

I think this is a video everyone should watch. If you haven't already, click it. You don't need sound, and it's short. If you did watch it, maybe watch it again. Because we need to learn the language for speaking to people with depression. Those with mental illness. Most people have trouble knowing what to say to someone who struggles with something unknown to them, whether it be grief, physical illness, mental illness, sexual abuse, domestic abuse, etc, etc. So instead we say nothing. Maybe that's better than saying the wrong thing, but saying nothing doesn't show the person that you care. Every one of the statements in the video shows that person that you care.

If you've been following my last couple weeks, they haven't been going so well. Depression- mild at times, rather worse at others, but quite continuous, and fatigue- I actually went to a primary care doctor the other day about it and they're running bloodwork. I've been grieving my brother-in-law, but things have felt even more off. There's some things going on with medications right now, as I talk about here. Nasser and I have been discussing the possibilities of changing my anti-depressant around, if the bloodwork tells us everything's good, and if we rule out the new birth control, and if I'm just not improving still. We're talking at least 6 weeks from now, and if my depression goes on that long......... oi.

My depression isn't typically like this. It's typically well managed by my medication, therapy, mindfulness practice (agh, when I do it!!), and regular exercise. I get depressed, even with all that, but it's usually "short" (a morning, evening, a full day at most). I call those "depressive episodes" and they do range in severity. Sometimes I can break down in an anxiety attack (oh yeah, I seem to suffer from that too) for 5 minutes, take an anti-anxiety pill, and I calm down within 15 minutes. Booyah. But if the anxiety leads to mild depression leads to severe depression, pack it in for the night. But again, "the night". My depression doesn't usually last for 2.5 weeks straight. I'm definitely improving now, but not in the clear.

And, again, maybe it is just the grief, but the primary care doctor mentioned that my psychiatrist could adjust my meds during this time. And that thought hadn't really occurred to me before. So there's another possibility to look into. It helps me to have these potential hopes to focus on during this depressive 2.5 week rut. It helps me a lot.

Today I drove Nasser and the boys to the airport so they could go to Chicago. Nasser is staying through the weekend, but the boys will be visiting with Grandma for a week. Although not quite, because I fly in for a whirlwind trip Wednesday and Thursday, and I will see the boys then. They don't actually come home until Sunday, June 26th (agh, the same day as my triathlon!). Then we all fly to Seattle the next day. Busy couple weeks, although I'm going to have a lot of time on my hands this next week. Theoretically I'm supposed to be "tapering" for my race, I've got some serious workouts to get in and a big decision to make about my triathlon. I still haven't decided if I'm doing the sprint or the olympic distance. I went to Stroke and Stride at the reservoir last night; I did the shorter swim course (since the longer was a second lap and I despise lapping in open water for some reason. no problem lapping in a pool though, I'm weird) which was 750m swim and 5k run. Now it was rather hot last night, like still 90deg or close to it when we started. But man, it was tough. I think I was one of two people who brought water on the run (that made me feel like a wimp!) and I finished it before I started the last mile. Of a 5k.

I'm glad I went to the Stroke and Stride, but it really made me question my ability to do the olympic distance. My sister, Audra, recently gave me a lot of encouragement on it since I can certainly do each of the distances on their own, but I do think this next week will really decide it for me. I am so grateful to have so many days to focus on myself, ummm, maybe some working on the house and yard as well, but the heat wave we've got is not going to help with the outdoor stuff. Maybe I'll take long naps during the day, and do lots of later evening/ early morning activities.

One more thing about the Stroke and Stride. You have to understand, this is in Boulder, Colorado. Many of these people were wearing Ironman gear; you know, Olympic athletes train in Boulder. I felt rather out of place to say the least. A woman passed me by, with an Ironman tattoo on her calf, and told me "you could run a marathon like that. you look strong!" Yeah, that helped my mood a little.

woah, livin' on a prayer

Wednesday, 06/15/16, 9:44am

I went for a run yesterday, just over 5 mi, which was a big accomplishment. But since then my body has felt so incredibly weak and drained. Maybe I got really affected by the heat during the run? Or maybe I'm fighting a virus? Or maybe this is side effects of the new birth control? Or maybe this is a side effect of the depression or grief. I don't know. Too many factors going on in my life.

I have a list of to-dos, mostly in my head unfortunately, that have been pushed back since Adam's death. I haven't even begun to try and write thank-you notes for all the wonderful people who helped us, donated to the memorial funds, etc during that time, and continue to do so. I haven't much wanted to do anything in the last month.

Yesterday Nasser had offered some incentives for my run- eating a low carb ice cream type treat and playing board games together in the evening. I ended up doing neither because the depression hit a little harder last night. When I wrote my last blog post, I thought that I was getting better, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, but then several times yesterday, the tunnel felt totally closed and trapped. I guess it's going to be that way for awhile, the ups and downs, the optimism at times, desperation at others.

I think that time has been a common theme of my last few posts. Time will heal, it just takes time, etc, etc. I expect that mindset is supposed to help at times like this, but it hasn't been helping me. In my times of deep depression and desperation, time feels like my worst enemy. If I can't get through the now, how will I get through the tomorrows?

But I need to remember it's one step at a time. One foot in front of the other. Take it minute by minute if I have to. And I'm allowing a lot of personal expectations to go unmet and trying really hard to not beat myself up over that.

I wish I could get out of this rut more easily. I wish some of my usual coping strategies were helping more, although Nasser did help me with that last night and I was able to fall asleep without too much anxiety.

Just keep chugging along, right?

don't stop believin', hold on to that feelin'

Tuesday, 06/14/16, 10:11am

I can feel I'm on the mend. I think I'm almost over the big depression rut that I've been in for the last two weeks. There's still complicated grief, but the depression part is improving.

There have been a few times in the last two weeks where Nasser and I have considered talking me to the hospital. Each time we've come to the conclusion that we don't need to go there, but I know I also have this stigma and fear of the hospital. My only experience with it was so tainted by the traumatic intake that I have absolutely no interest in going through that again. 

I've talked with a couple friends recently about hospital experiences, and although they vary, the trapped, jailed feeling is there with any form of involuntary stay. The scared, take away all my rights awfulness. I wish there was a better way to handle that because having those feelings doesn't help someone in a mental health crisis (at least not for me and the people I've talked to). I've thought more about Adam's hospital stays in thinking more about the hospital. I wonder if that trapped feeling was there for him in the same way, and I wonder if it was ever comforting. I could see how it can be for certain situations, especially voluntary stays. You still relinquish control in a voluntary stay in many ways, but maybe in those situations it feels more right and relieving.

I suppose thinking about hospital stays differently helps me to be willing to use that option if needed. I don't think it's needed anymore, but it was certainly close for a bit.

The control thing in the hospital/mental healthcare setting is tough. It really depends on the patient as to what they need to get better. I don't do well if a lot of my control over my life is taken away. But you have to do that in certain situations, like many times for Adam for instance. If someone is in a mental health crisis, with overwhelming feelings of suicide, etc, I guess you sometimes have to save them from themselves. And taking away their control is the only way we know how to do it.

I do appreciate the amount of control I have over my mental healthcare, and I know that it's vastly improved in more recent years. Patient privacy and control are very important, but then that wasn't really right for Adam's case. Perhaps things would have been different if there had been a nurse or doctor who could really take control over his treatment and get him into the programs and housing he really needed but maybe resisted.

Mental healthcare is a very difficult problem in our world, but as all healthcare becomes more personalized, mental healthcare needs to become that way too. A friend recently passed along an article about a blood test that can help doctors determine if someone will respond well to anti-depressants. That is HUGE! And although it's all preliminary research, I have hope that mental healthcare will become less guesswork as we learn more. But we have to be willing to do that. We have to be willing to improve our mental healthcare system based on what we learn, especially if we're going to keep blaming the mass shootings on mental illness. But I won't get on that soapbox today.

I look forward to a day when mental illness is less stigmatized, where mental illness is treated like a real disease, where the healthcare system provides all the resources needed for mental healthcare, and people seek and receive the care that they need.

wake, from your sleep

Sunday, 06/12/16, 4:36, 7:54pm

Tomorrow will be a month since Adam died. A month. I can't really believe that it's actually been a month and yet the days have been this big long struggle.

I know that some of that is due to the variations in my medicines lately. The new birth control pill, which I stopped taking Thursday and started a new one Friday, and my stupidity with not taking my full dosage of my anti-depressant over the last week and a half-ish. Once I realized it, and told Nasser, we got me back to taking that full dosage. I think I'm improving, at least maybe I'm starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel right now?

I made it through a bike ride yesterday, a decent one at that. I got in 22 miles, not quite the distance I need for the olympic triathlon I have coming up, but I did feel good and it was hot! I'm considering downgrading my triathlon to the shorter distance, the sprint, which is perfectly great to do. I just had decided on the olympic distance way back around the New Year when I signed up early. I hate that my training has been crap since Adam died, but it's also perfectly understandable. It just drives me crazy that I know exercise helps me, and yet I can't get myself to do it when I'm in a hole. The damn depression prevents me of the will I need to "just do it". Such an easy catchphrase for people to say, but honestly I think exercise is so much harder when you're feeling depressed. And yet it's so much more needed then too.

Today I did nothing. I don't know if that's totally true. We had a kindergarten playdate this morning, since TK is going into kindergarten in the fall (!!!). That was outside, and the heat, and being social, and all that, I think took a lot out of me. I feel a total lack of energy and will, and it took everything I had to have a proper lunch, which I didn't complete until close to 3pm. Of course Nasser and I were also meal planning and putting together the grocery list; meanwhile we got more and more hungry and on edge.

The weekend wasn't easy. Everything seemed like a struggle as we tried to be productive and feeling like we were failing miserably. It was hot and the kids didn't want to be outside much and that probably led to them being a bit stir crazy.

I feel drained, emotionally and physically, even though I barely exercised this weekend. Feeling low and bummed and still depressed. That light at the end of the tunnel looked brighter this afternoon, but as we're feeling frustrated with kids' bedtimes right now, it's all looking a bit darker. Why can't anything go right?

Feeling awful about the mass shooting in Orlando of course today. Stupid ugliness of the world; why do we allow just anyone to get a gun and why do we have to have these really horrible assault weapons available for anyone to buy? And why must people hate others who are different from them so much? It's completely disgusting and inhumane. People are different. So fucking what. Get over it.

Ok off that soapbox. Leaving my readers with yet another downer of a post. One of these days soon I will have another good day. Actual good day with little depression, if some grief still. One of these days.

the lunatic is in my head

Thursday, 06/09/16, 12:56, 2:34, 4:20pm

We're on, what, day 10 of the depression streak. Well ok 2ish days in there weren't all depressed. Although it's been there in the background in everything I've done.

I've been trying to get myself to wake up early and go swim at the Y, before Nasser needs to go to work, before even the kids get up. I've been failing at it miserably though. Yesterday I got out of bed and stayed out of bed. I wasted more time than I should have on my phone, but I made it to swim. I got slightly more distance in than what I need to for the olympic triathlon I have coming up, so we're calling it a win. But. I felt like a failure for not getting to the pool earlier and getting more yardage in. I felt like a failure in the pool because it felt hard and I felt weak.

Today I tried to run, with my sister over hanging with the kids. I got about 2.4mi in before an anxiety attack hit and I couldn't breathe.

What is wrong with me?

I know what's wrong with me. A bunch of things.

We realized the thing about the birth control pill.

And then there's the grief of course.

And I realized I've only been taking 2/3 the dosage of one of my medications. I take 2 pills in the morning, 1 at night, to get my full daily dosage. But recently the bottle upstairs ran out so I haven't been taking the one at night. For about a week. So that would definitely explain a lot but not everything.

Then there's the factor of me sucking at life, not exercising enough, not doing the right things to keep the depression at bay. But then is that true or is that just the depression talking? Not so obvious to me.

I have no focus. No ability to form my thoughts together into explaining how this feels. I've had strong feelings of despair lately, feeling like I don't want to "do my life". Like I just don't want to do anything.

I guess I gotta remind myself this is mostly the medication stuff. We'll figure it out. It's just going to take some time. Ugh. Time. That again. Easy to say "it'll just take some time" when it comes to grief and depression, etc. But allowing time to pass without feeling like the scum of the earth in the meantime is rather difficult.

and if your head explodes with dark forbodings too, I'll see you on the dark side of the moon

Monday, 06/06/16, 11:58am, 4:28pm

Well. We think we may have it figured out. I've been mildly, and at various points more seriously, depressed since I think last Tuesday ish. It's grief too so it's been confusing. But there's been plenty of it not related to Adam at all, all more of the usual ruminating thoughts for me. And some more triggering ones.

The weekend felt like a failure to me. It's strange to write that because Saturday I told a friend that it was the best day I'd had in awhile, probably since Adam died. And it's true. Thinking about that now, I can't believe, rationally, I could say that the weekend was a failure.

And yet.

Sunday was a strongly depressed day. I can't believe how much that changes my perspective of the entire weekend. But it was. Various points were more seriously depressed. I was all set to go for a 17/18 mile bike ride followed by a 5k run, and I just completely fell apart. Well I suppose that was after I fell apart the first time, earlier in the morning. I decided I couldn't bike because I didn't feel safe riding near cars. That was a low point of the depression yesterday.

So hang on. Let's not go into every depressed moment of yesterday, it's not worth reliving them all to try to learn from them and realize how horribly sad, pathetic, depressed I was.

There were a lot of good parts too. We finished building the fort part of RG's bed. Ummm, yeah. Ridiculously big birthday present from 2? 3? years ago. I'll share a picture another day when that room is cleaner. We also watched a movie as a family. Which was nice.

But I had started off the post with "we may have it figured out". Having a multiple day depression, however mild at various points, is a little irregular for me. Perhaps it's the grief, but. It could be the new low hormone birth control pill I started. It just happened to coincide with the day that Adam died.

Today is the day, I think, based on my pills, I start my period. It's been typical for me to have depression in the days building up to my period. But this month seems worse. A lot worse.

So grief or pills? Maybe both. Maybe I can't decide for another month. Or maybe it's not worth trying out for another month because this amount of depression isn't worth risking. Yeah such is my life. Weighing all these different things that are affecting my mood and my depression. Too many factors every time and too hard to measure correlation vs causation when it's an experiment with my life.

Yeah that's depression for you. Mental illness for you. All you readers, is that scary? Terrifying? That every mental illness patient is continuously taking data in their life, trying to measure the causes of those bad moments, and cut out those things that don't make us feel good. We never quite know if something will work but you keep trying over and over again. I guess.

I filled out this registration form for a local grief group. I was thinking it might be worth trying and maybe if I think it's helpful, talk Nasser into it. They do an intake call to ask some questions about what's going on, etc. The lady called me this morning and it was a difficult and somewhat emotional conversation. I think I got into more detail that necessary about my own depression struggles with it, but whatever. This grief group is specific to "sudden loss" which applies strongly in our case.

What I want to find, and I've been searching with no such luck so far, is a grief group around deaths related to mental illness. Suicides would often fall under this category, but drug overdoses could as well. Deaths related to eating disorders, deaths of those whose mental illnesses overcame them in some way. Maybe it's not necessary, but that specificity feels like something I could really use right now. Maybe I'll start one, maybe an online community based one. Someday. When I feel ready for a new project.

It's pouring this afternoon. We actually made it to the pool after lunch and before the rain hit. It was nice. The kids really needed it even if it was harder for me.

I was going to say that it was nice to have the weather reflect my mood but it's already stopped raining.

I'm managing today, not amazingly well, but managing. We will figure out the medication thing and I'll find a more stable situation there. Someday. It just takes time, right? Ugh.

you’re singing a song that’s been stuck in your head

Thursday, 06/02/16, 2:23, 4:27pm

I am blogging because Nasser thought it would be good for me. I don't want to blog. I want to drown myself in a Netflix show. But this is more productive for my mind and soul.

I'm still in a bit of a funk of depression today. Not quite in a hole or episode, but teetering. Or maybe sitting in a shallow hole with my feet hanging out but not solid on the ground. It's mild depression with this extra grief bit.

Today my psychiatric appointment was better than I expected. I was feeling anxious about that this morning, and of course a whole bunch of other things. I was anxious to tell my doctor about Adam, I was bringing the boys to my appointment so I was anxious about that.

It was fine. Although having the boys there wasn't easy, probably won't do that next time. But it was fine. Certainly not as emotionally draining as my therapy appointment, but still some.

I've felt very unmotivated lately. Our house is a mess, we still haven't finished unpacking, I haven't wanted to exercise or shower, I haven't wanted to cook, I haven't wanted to "adult". I feel like I should just be able to tap into some will, but I can't. It's like it's not there.

I don't really have more to say today. Will me some motivation, dear readers.

my life rolls on in endless song

Wednesday, 06/01/16, 4:12pm

I haven't much wanted to blog lately. Looking back on the last few days, I realize that's probably what I should have been doing. I don't know that I would call what I have a full-blown episode, but I've been feeling depressed.

I've been having a hard time this week returning to "normal". I still don't really know what that is, but I suppose not showering, not exercising, allowing more screen time for the kids than I'd like isn't quite what I'd like normal to look like. Of course I wasn't expecting TK to throw up Monday night. That threw a wrench in all the normal for the week.

I had my first therapy appointment today since Adam died, so there was a lot to say and discuss. I'm emotionally drained from that and I wasn't exactly going into it emotionally strong. The biggest help was recognizing that my feelings and emotions are normal and I shouldn't expect to be "normal" for awhile still. Grief takes time, and sometimes more complicated grief, like what we've all been left with in dealing with the grief of the mental illness as well still and the nature of Adam's death, can well, be more complicated. Add my depression on top of that...

My thoughts feel so jumbled lately. I think that's another reason I haven't wanted to write.

There can end up being a lot of societal expectations around how people deal with death and grieving. We expect people to go through the steps of grieving- denial, depression, anger... all the way to acceptance- and we expect people to go through them in order with a specific amount of time dedicated to each (even with grief, I think we expect people to spend a surprising little amount of time in the depression and anger stages). We have to understand though that most people go through different steps in different orders spending incredible lengths of time on certain steps and probably jumping back to acceptance at various points. I don't expect to arrive at acceptance and stay there for the rest of my life.

I end up having expectations of how I think Nasser should be grieving. And I worry when he doesn't follow what I expect. I remind myself that he has to grieve the way he needs to. And it's ok if he needs to not talk about it a lot with me. I am a more external, sharing person than him, and I've found a need to talk it through a lot with people. I don't think Nasser gains the same healing from that as I do.

Tomorrow, I have my first psychiatric appointment since Adam died and I expect it will be emotionally draining again. At least I had already emailed my therapist soon after he died to let her know and we both were prepared. My doctor doesn't know yet. Telling people in person is just that much harder.

This Friday will be three weeks. I can't believe that much time has passed and it's already June. I feel like time has stood still in some ways, passing by so slowly, and yet slipping by unnoticed. I've felt so completely not grounded. I'll find my footing again. I'll find that new "normal". But it's ok that it might take some time yet.