(Side note at 1:40pm, I was all ready to scrap this post, because I got to a lower state and I thought I sounded too optimistic here, if that gives you any gauge of how I'm doing... whatever. I'll post it anyway and hope that it's hopefulness at the end picks me back up.)
For a little while now, I've been less interested to blog when I'm in a crappy mood. I feel like I've had to force myself to blog during a low, whereas I used to feel a need for the blog before. I think it probably has a little to do with the fact that I do share my blog more widely now and more people can know about my lows.
I think I was calmed into a lull when I first started with the blog. At first I only shared with people who were super close to me, who weren't going to judge me. But as I've shared more, and more widely, and become more and more vulnerable, it's become more scary. People have said things with well intentions that still sting, and people have said things with judging intentions (not many thankfully!). And it's scary to know that I've just signed myself up for anyone and everyone to judge me, my self care, my treatment of my depression, because apparently we do that with mental health, more so than we do with physical health. It's really weird how we do that. I mean I suppose we judge people who refuse to see a doctor, for whatever the reason, but with mental health, we really judge people on "how hard they're trying". I mean, for crying out loud, I do see a psychiatrist and a therapist (pretty damn regularly), and I exercise and blog and seek support from those around me, and sure, maybe I don't practice mindfulness as often as I should, but I'm TRYING.
I don't know why I feel the need to start off so defensively.
I suppose it's in preparation to say, I'm not entirely sure that this new medication IS working as amazingly well as I initially thought. It's not a miracle drug. And I suppose I never really thought it would be. But I think it did kick in, right around the end of my last period, while we were in Bermuda, and everything felt really great for awhile. And it was this nice long stretch of wonderfulness. And even though I was talking about how I don't want to take that as an expectation of the future, I must have still done that.
This weekend has been super busy for us, in comparison to a lot of recent weekends, and although it's all good things, it's taken a toll on my mood. The anxiety and depression crept into my day yesterday, despite a really great day Friday, starting with a beautiful bike ride with a friend,
a birthday party for a nephew, and quality hanging out with Nasser time after his work trip this week.
(Sorry had to share those pictures). (ARGH, I am not supposed to say sorry. So with the habit I'm trying to form as suggested by Nasser, I will say instead, I love you blog, for allowing me to get distracted with sharing the good stuff, in the middle of sharing the bad stuff. Because that's how I roll).
Yesterday was tough. At many different points. It was also good at many different points. Nasser and I got through a tough discussion about the way we were interacting with eachother and we talked about me trying to cut politics out of my life a little bit since it works me up a bit much. We also had RG's choir concert. Did I tell you he's in a choir this year?? Yeah, I love it. Anyway, I wasn't about to back out of his first ever concert that he was super nervous about, because of some effing depression, so I rallied. But maybe my eyes were a little red and puffy. And I didn't talk much to anyone else. And we really didn't do much afterward with people but it was ok. RG was in a bad mood for awhile about the long day, and dinner plans, and his itchy pants, and he was probably exhausted. Of course, at bed time, he couldn't stop talking with me about the concert, and singing bits of songs, and he seemed to love the choir again.
But then after the kids went to bed, the depression crept in again. I can't even remember what triggered it initially, but it was worsened when we were watching one of our favorite comedians (one we saw live together as one of Nasser's and my first dates back in the day) make several jokes in a row about how psychiatrists aren't real doctors. Oh man that hurt. It was like a blow to the stomach, but I guess more a blow to the brain. Your disease isn't valid. It's all in your head. Just snap out of it. That's the stigma I get faced with in our culture all. the. freaking. time. I'm sure I notice it more because those words scream out at me more than they do other people. I was terrified to watch any other shows or comedians or whatever for fear that there would be more mental illness trivialization.
Today is a bit busy as well with another nephew's birthday party this afternoon (my sister's birthday was yesterday, the nephews' birthdays are this week, a day apart from eachother, and my dad's birthday is next week - October is a busy month for us!!), and I am trying. This morning isn't super easy because Nasser is taking a few hours to play video games with friends who don't live here, online. I've felt better about giving him this time more regularly, since playing with other people is better for him than playing alone, plus it gives him social time with these friends. Normally it's fine, but today the game it a bit more violent with the zombies, and the killing, and the gore, and we're not letting the kids watch. They've gotten some of their own video game time in, hence the ability for me to blog. But I needed it. Already the depression had crept in this morning with me yelling at Nasser for sleeping in, ALL THE TIME, which he really doesn't do. Then he held me while we practiced some mindfulness/breath concentration together to try and prevent me from crying. I still cried, but maybe it wasn't as bad as it would have been had we not practiced.
We decided some verbiage around mindfulness practice. It is a practice, just like yoga. One that, I believe, allows for no existence of failure. If you practice, you will likely get better at it, and you're doing it. You can't be bad at it, there is only the possibility of not practicing it. If you find yourself with wondering thoughts, you simply try again. If you are in a balance yoga pose, and your raised leg falls to the floor, you simply take a deep breath, and try again.
I suppose that's exactly life. You fall down those holes. Maybe you get stuck sometimes, having trouble finding the way out, but we all stop and help eachother along the way. Thank goodness for that.
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