that's the way it goes, it'll all work out

Thursday, 10/19/17, 4:46pm, 9:22pm

This post is going to be written at various different points. Right now, RG is supposedly working on homework on the loft... dunno if that's actually happening at all... TK is doing a "brainy" type game on my phone because he already accomplished the couple things he was supposed to do after school including going over "rainbow words"- words he needs to learn to recognize and then spell (good 'ole 1st grade stuff, right?). Poor RG certainly has harder homework, being in 4th grade and all, but then you throw ADHD on top of all that, it's hard. He is on medication again, not sure if I've gone into that on my blog, but I also don't care to give you every detail of his medical care since he is a minor and all, so whatever. Anyway, his new med is helping but then it doesn't last all day, so when he comes home from school is kinda the medication wearing off period. So yeah. Homework isn't the easiest thing.

So that's what the kids are doing, and we're currently waiting for my parents to come by. Nasser is on a business trip in San Diego, has been since yesterday morning, but then he comes back late tonight, so YAY! It's good that it's a short trip for the first one in over a year (have I mentioned he hasn't done a work trip since last August... mostly because of me? yeah...). Mainly just because it's good to kinda get used to the business trip thing slowly at first again. And you know, I'm still going through treatment and all... just had one this past Monday.

I should address the depression that I had end of last week... I think I kinda freaked out about it because it was the exact 3 and 4 days before my next treatment, and it was sorta what the doctor had warned to watch for. But then Saturday and Sunday were totally decent days, so it's not the same as what he was talking about. Likely it was just some depression that hit, randomly, and kinda hard, maybe worse so because it had been awhile and worse still because I freaked myself out over what this depression "meant" and what was going to happen with my treatment because of it.

So really... it's ok.

Also, just something small I need to correct, because yeah, perfectionism coming through here. A couple posts ago I told you how many posts I had, but the number I gave was my total published plus drafts. And that's not really fair. I should have only given the published number because that's the official one, which is currently 188. Not a huge huge difference, but enough for me to care about.

So... things have been going decently well this week, despite treatment, despite Nasser's business trip. I'm not trying to put my expectations too high while he's gone, I'm not really doing any cooking with him gone, because I don't want to trap myself into any triggers. I'm keeping it easy. Yesterday, we just hung out, after school, we ordered Domino's delivery for dinner, RG was doing a lot of homework after dinner, then I attempted to get the boys to bed early, which basically just ended up "on time". But it was good. I felt a confidence boost in handling everything myself, which I really needed. I had decided that trying to go somewhere in order to get together with other people would end up too stressful for me... it honestly took a long time and a lot of discussing (with various family members, and Nasser, and my therapist, and myself) to figure out what I was going to do. And then I figured today, being the second day of the trip, would be a good day to have my parents over.

I'm definitely hoping RG finishes his homework before dinner today. He worked on homework last night, after dinner, but then still had stuff to finish this morning. Ugh... stressful. It shouldn't be stressful for me, I'm not the one with the homework, and yet it still is. Sigh.

Oh. I have to share something RG made for me yesterday, when he wasn't doing homework (apologies for the continuous talk of homework). Anyway, he bought this multi-color pen at the school book fair yesterday, and started off drawing snowflakes on my arms (because he remembers my obsession of doing this on myself for tatoo ideas... I have vague memories of writing a post with pictures of these at some point but cannot seem to find them to link to so we're outta luck with that here). At some point, I was like "Ah, this is just too painful. I think your pen is not meant for skin; it's meant for paper." So he drew me this...

*heart melts*


Ok, so I'm going to tell you that right now it's much later... after 9pm... boys are in bed and I am too but wondering if I should finish up this blog post (!). So since I mentioned how RG is now on a new medication, I should also mention that silly, trying to remember everything me, this morning, completely forgot to give him his med. And he had a total meltdown at bedtime since his homework wasn't finished and it sounds like he probably had more homework to finish because he didn't have his medicine today. So that made me feel really crappy, and give him some extra time to work when it was truly past bedtime, and I reset the alarm clock in their bedroom to be a bit earlier so he can wake up earlier and hopefully finish in the morning. Honestly he works decently well in the mornings... new energy with the new day, etc, I guess.

I'm impressed that I didn't totally melt down when I realized I had forgotten RG's med this morning. I guess I was slightly triggered, but I kept my calm, I comforted RG during his meltdown, and I tried to find some solutions. And I still kept moving toward the goal of getting the boys to sleep... it was later than I would have liked, but it all worked out in the end.

Alright, it is barely past 9:30pm, but I'm .... going to sleep. Because I do that, especially since getting this CPAP to sleep with. I dunno, it's like maybe I am catching up on all the sleep I missed for so long. Well, until next time, dear readers.

you've got to get yourself together, you've got stuck in a moment and now you can't get out of it, don't say that later will be better

Sunday, 09/24/17, 5:23pm

I've been debating the last ten to fifteen minutes about whether or not I actually want to blog today. I guess I finally decided to try. But I can't guarantee anything mind-blowing or lengthy or whatever.

I felt really great when I blogged on Friday, really that whole day. I felt like, hey, I can handle this depression thing. And although I'm feeling slightly more capable now, five hours ago I felt like I was in the depths of some of the worst depression ever. But I'm going to take a deep breath and write about it, I'm going to dare greatly and share about stuff that is very difficult to share.

It's weird. Yesterday, for as Nasser called it, 2/3 of the day, I really was doing well, I was enjoying the day, I felt good. Then I got triggered somehow, I yelled at the kids quite a bit, I felt like Nasser scolded me about that, really I think he just asked me to stop yelling at them, but I felt like a complete failure: as a mother, as a person, in my existence. I've questioned my existence a lot this weekend, and that's been tough. Nasser has been supporting me, a ton, and really got me through the worst of it today, enough so that I actually feel like I made a decent recovery. A recovery, like I'd been talking about on Friday, that wouldn't have happened before ECT, remember electro-convulsive therapy, this crazy treatment I've been going through since mid-June. Today's state had me wondering if I need another round of acute phase of ECT, you know the time for a few weeks where I have to have treatment 3x a week. It sounds awful to have to go through that again, but that's how bad I felt earlier today. Then, this afternoon's "recovery" has me feeling like maybe that doesn't have to be the answer. (By the way, I think the biggest part of my recovery this afternoon was getting myself to get out for a run, in the rain. It wasn't a long run, but it was slightly longer than the last, also slightly faster, and felt a bit better, maybe partially because of the rain.) Nasser mentioned maybe we could look at other antidepressant options. I mentioned on Friday we have an appointment with the doctor; I had been referring to the ECT doctor, but we also have an appointment with my regular psychiatrist this week too. I even have an appointment with my therapist. Lots of good, important appointments. And, really, exercise was always super important to me, and maybe it still really is, probably it still is. And it's been awfully hard to get exercise in, especially the way I want it, with ECT. I mean, for quite a bit of the treatment, I had tons of fatigue, plus treatments rather often, so it was almost impossible to do anything. Now, it seems the 24/7 thing gets in the way of a lot of exercise. I need a buddy for everything, and granted, I've been doing walks a lot more often with the family I hang out with, with is so much better than nothing. But, I miss bike rides and runs, and the freedom to exercise however I want, whenever I want. The flexibility in the 24/7 is helping, and I know we are getting there, slowly.

Oh that neighborhood party I was talking about on Friday didn't happen this weekend. They moved it due to weather, which is good considering all the rain today. I have to say, I kinda enjoyed the bit of cold and rainy weather this weekend. It helped avoid the guilt and shame feelings of not spending tons of time outside, which wouldn't have helped my depression. I've really enjoyed wearing sweatshirts and comfy sweatpants. Plus, I think the colder weather plus rain rather helped my run today. I'm looking forward to lots of colder fall weather.

Alright, I don't know that I have much more to say. I shared about the ups and downs of my weekend. Hoping to keep chugging along alright. FYI, all you friends (and really anyone) out there who struggle with similar stuff, and hide it from almost everyone you know, or don't hide it, because everyone's struggle sucks, I hold you all in my hearts closely. Lots of love to you all, dear readers~

what the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here.

Saturday, 03/18/17, 11:21am

I'm in another low today. A couple really stupid arguments with Nasser triggered me. And oh it feels terrible whenever I'm triggered by people I love, which is nowhere near as rare as I'd like. It certainly happens with the kids plenty. When it's with Nasser though, it feels particularly worse, because my brain distorts things badly enough that I question his love for me. Of course, he does love me, very much, and our arguments don't change that, but then my stupid good-for-nothing brain. Sigh.

This fucking diseased brain of mine. I shouldn't have such hatred towards my brain, but it's my worst enemy. It makes me believe that I'm worthless, that I deserve to feel awful, that I deserve to think that my life isn't worth anything, to anyone. It makes me think that I'm the scum of the earth, that I'm the worst parent, the worst everything.

And then, when I'm not strong enough to combat the thoughts my brain plants in me, my brain says it's all my fault. It's because I'm not strong enough, I'm just this weak pathetic being. And those thoughts all compound, and everything becomes proof for why I'm the worst.

And yet, I have proven to have a logical part of my brain. I completed undergraduate and graduate degrees in mechanical engineering, and you'd think I could apply that analytical, logical side to my emotions. But it's like (I suppose actually is) separate parts of my brain, and only the one part is sick. And we're trying to jump-start that part of my brain with TMS right now, and 4 weeks in, one day "I'm starting to get better" and the next it's as if I've crashed and I can't even move to find my broken pieces again.

Today, my thoughts feel jumbled and angry and despairing. It's hard to concentrate and I'm questioning the idea of blogging at all. Maybe it is better to wait until I'm in a better state to share, it's safer, but again, that always feels less honest to me.

I want to use that stupid acronym right now- FML. Fuck My Life. It's a horrible thing to say, really, but it does perfectly embody how I feel right now. FML. I suppose it should be FMLwD, or Fuck My Life with Depression. Because really, I think I would love my life if it weren't for that fucking Depression. It just taints everything with its presence.

All you wonderful people out there who know firsthand what this is like, I feel for you. It's not your fault, just as it's not my fault. I wish I could remove that shame we carry with our struggles. Because above all else, this is just a horrid illness, a disease of an organ, but it just happens to be of the brain. Just because the brain houses all our thoughts, doesn't mean it can't get sick.

you can try the best you can. if you try the best you can, the best you can is good enough

Tuesday, 03/07/17, 9:38pm, 1:43pm

Well, yesterday's post was all hopeful and feeling like I'd had a turning point in getting better. I guess it's only inevitable that this morning, the depression hit hard and I'm just feeling incredibly stupid for having hoped at all.

I hate days like today. Days where I feel so incredibly small, so worthless. Days where I just want to be done. Done with everything- with life, with depression, with anxiety, with being a mom, with responsibility, with expectations. It's really hard to have those thoughts of despair, yet I know I have no option there other than to persist forward. I have to keep trying- for my kids, for my husband, for everyone who loves me, for future me.

It's always difficult to write a really downer post. One full of my real thoughts of despair, in the moment. Maybe it's not something that's the best for me to share about with anyone and everyone, but then I also feel strongly that it's critical to share this stuff. Because what if there's someone else out there who has these feelings too? But they think they're alone because most writers of depression share after the fact. And we're expected to express hope the strongest. I found out yesterday about some guidelines for writing about mental illness from NAMI, the National Alliance on Mental Illness. Now granted this is for when you're representing NAMI, which I don't profess to do. At the bottom, they mention specific words or phrases to avoid. Including, contrary to my personal belief, the word "suffer".

From the site:
Suffer. Although there are times when a person is suffering, we avoid it when it discussing mental health. We opt for more hopeful language that is forward looking. 

I see where they're coming from, but gosh, I've used the word suffer in my blog way more times than I can count. And to me, I think this is incredibly ignorant to try and rub this word out of our vocabulary. In fact, many people DO suffer from mental illness, regularly, just as people suffer from physical illness. Why should we pretend that this isn't a major component of mental illness? By only focusing on the hope, you invalidate what people are suffering. For me, the focus on hope and people constantly telling me to "think positively", "you gotta hope for the future", etc, worsens the self-stigma I put on myself. When I'm not feeling hopeful, I feel guilt and shame over it. Hope doesn't fix mental illness. Sure maybe it can help to change your outlook on life which may improve mood, etc, but hope for me is a double-edged sword. Hope destroys me when I do suffer because 1. How dare I give in to the suffering and not keep hoping? and 2. Here I thought I was doing better/will get better and that hope misled me. It made me think that if I just hope and think positively, this will all go away. But nope, it doesn't.

And the constant proof that things that are supposed to help me, but don't (you know things like medication, and therapy, and TMS), crushes that hope over and over again when I keep not getting better. And it makes me question whether or not I really have a disease. If it can't be fixed by all these things, then what's really going on? Is it just that I'm a screwed up person who fails constantly in life? But then we have concluded that I have "treatment-resistant depression," so my "not a disease" logic shouldn't stand.

My therapist recently noted that I seem to fight my diagnosis. I suppose I do. I question it, I self-stigmatize, and I shame myself over my depression and anxiety. And I can't seem to figure out how to stop doing it. I write about the problems with mental illness stigma, and yet I do it all to myself. What the fuck is wrong with me???

It's the depression. It's the illness. It's the brain disease (another word NAMI doesn't want us to use), but it absolutely is that. And although TMS might not be helping yet, there's still time, and hope, really. And please remember, this treatment will help (or not help) regardless of whether or not I hope. I keep going to treatment, I keep trying; isn't that enough? Sometimes I hope, and other times I despair. That's doesn't make me a failure at life, it simply is a side effect of my illness. I'm telling you all this, also in the hope that saying it over and over again will change my own personal views and stupid stigmas.

I wrote most of the above this morning, and although I still stand by all I said, I am feeling a teeny bit better now. Today's TMS appointment went pretty well; talking with a friend present and the technician makes the appointments go by faster and seemingly, less anxiety-inducing.

I feel less despair now, but I know those thoughts aren't far away. They've been close and intrusive for many months now, and I'm ready for that to improve. Whether it's TMS, or attempting medications again after TMS (because some people do respond better to meds after their brain chemistry changes enough from the treatment), or maybe someday I'll even try ECT, but <shudder>, I don't ever want it to come to that.

But regardless of whether or not TMS works, I've been dealing with all this for like 8 years now. I suppose I have shown that I do persist in the face of these challenges, with every day that I get up in the morning. Even if it feels trivial in comparison to what I view as failures.

I know it probably seems like I've been bashing NAMI for the guidelines they've posted, but really I do understand the reasoning behind it, and I know they want to be careful that they aren't triggering people with what they share, and there's a fine line between helping and triggering when it comes to mental illness. And NAMI does so much to support individuals with mental illness and their families, they serve to educate and advocate, and they mostly do a great job doing so. I do feel that some of the choices they made about the latest guidelines aren't considering some of the greater harm they might be doing towards those of us who do suffer, on a regular basis.

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.

I hear it’s music ringin’, it sounds an echo in my soul, how can I keep from singin’?

Sunday, 10/02/16, 10:01am

We've taken this weekend as pretty lazy so far. I left the house for a grocery and library dropoff run this morning, but mostly we've been hibernating. Nasser especially needed the break after a stressful shortish week back at work, with late night calls pretty much every day. I think he still has some work to finish up this weekend for some things that are needed by tomorrow.

I haven't had all that much stress in the last few days and yet I'm the one who hasn't been doing as well. I'm mostly better from that depressive breakdown that hit hard Thursday and Friday, but still kinda off. Still edgy, still a bit anxious and easily triggered.

So I'm blogging now, as a preventative? I got in some good road riding on Wednesday this week, but other than that I haven't really been exercising as a preventative. I should be doing much more. I know think that getting into shape would help my depression, and yet dieting or restricting my eating, makes me feel low. I guess for a little bit. When I got myself on the Atkins diet earlier this summer, and didn't cheat, I felt good. But it took a good week or two to feel more normal on the diet. And apparently I can't get myself to go through that time period again in order to successfully diet and lose that extra weight.

And not that it really matters how much I weigh, or whether or not I have this extra tummy weight and separated abs from pregnancies, or whether or not I still fit in my pre-pregnancy clothes, or whether or not I "can get away with" wearing a bikini, because f that. I want to feel comfortable in my body and that's what I care about. I need to work on the confidence in what I've got thing and finding clothes that make me feel good in the body I have, not for the body I wish I had. And working throughout it to find a feel good and healthy weight on my body, one that maybe doesn't make my knees hurt as much wouldn't be bad to find, but I don't have to be super skinny or lose my athletic build or require a sugar free diet.

I like exercising and I would still recommend it to any and all. But I don't typically exercise for the purpose of looking great in a swimsuit or whatever. I do it because it's therapeutic to my mental state. I do it because it makes me healthier. I do it because I enjoy it. I do it because I love running races and triathlon races and bike charity events and open water swims and skiing and hiking and 14ers and big athletic accomplishments. I do it because it makes me feel good. I do it for me. I do it to enjoy all those athletic things with friends and family and my kids. I do it to help teach my kids by example, that leading a healthy lifestyle can be so beneficial and enjoyable.

I didn't realize I would get on my soap box about exercise in this post today. But that often happens with the blog. I come to it, sometimes with a few ideas, but I just start writing. I let my thoughts become real and readable to others. I don't know why. But since starting the blog, I feel the need to keep writing. It's not there every day, but almost. There are so many more thoughts that flash through my head throughout each day that never make it to the blog. So many insights that I think to myself, I need to write a blog post about this topic or whatever anecdote. And I forget the next time I sit down with my Chromebook. There's just always so much more we learn each and every day.

And so I keep writing.

moving me down the highway, rolling me down the highway, moving ahead so life won't pass me by

Friday, 09/30/16, 1:39pm, 3:25pm

Wow. Yesterday and today have been... rough. And weirdly so. They've been really hard days, depression wise, and yet I've been hiding it as well as possible and getting help from a few close people when absolutely needed.

Like my mom took RG to his choir practice last night. And a friend and my sister witnessed a breakdown on our walk this morning. Oh and poor Nasser has had to text with me and talk me down on phone calls while he's at work and like yesterday, supposed to be on this super important manager stuff phone call, with all the other managers. The all day one, that lasted 3 freaking hours longer than it was supposed to. Yikes that really made for a tough afternoon for me. The one person I desperately wanted with me to help me and talk with me, the only acceptable person to me when I'm in that state (that's how super freaking dependent I get with poor Nasser because he's the single person in the entire world who knows me as well as he does and knows my depression better than anyone else), absolutely could not back out of this meeting. It would have been devastating to several people's reviews and I could not in any state, actually ask him to do that. Because the guilt and shame it would put on my shoulders, to know that my depression had all these consequences on other people because I'm so stupidly needy, would be devastating to me. It would have made me spiral that much further down. So I had to accept help. From people other than Nasser. I had to gulp and do it and get over whatever ego it is that makes me not want to accept help. I guess most people have that to some extent. It's really hard to say, I'm too sick to take my kid to choir, can you help me? It's harder when that "sickness" doesn't appear obvious to others, other than the puffy, red eyes and occasional sniffles or tears.

You know why I beat myself up over feeling depressed so much? It's that f'ing stigma. That overwhelming scream from "them" that say get over it, suck it up, put yourself out there, just do it. The expectation that you can always find it within yourself to get out of bed and get outside and talk to people and do all the things you're supposed to be able to do. But sometimes it takes time. Time for the right meds to kick in. Time for the right med to be developed or approved. Time for a new day. Time for our schedules to align when everyone is feeling good and healthy. Time to heal. Time for a good day. Time for some sleeping. Time for some growing and finding oneself. Time.

I don't choose to waste time on my depression or my anxiety. Sometimes Nasser panics when he sees me spiraling downward and all he wants to helplessly do is make it stop, and he says "don't do this". It can be further triggering, for me, to hear these works because they feel blaming in a moment when I also feel helpless to stop the depression from becoming full blown. But he doesn't have the words, ever really, to stop me when I'm going up and over that final triggering hump, and probably anything he says could push me over that edge. He has most recently tried switching to "I love you". This was a brainchild while we were in Bermuda. When I was starting down that path, Nasser caught me and held me with "I love you". He literally had his arms around me, cradling me, on the bed in the Airbnb, telling me "I love you". And it helped. It got me through. I feel like such a child since he discovered this technique with TK's meltdowns. But... it works.

Nasser also got me started on forming a new habit. Anyone who knows me, knows that I apologize. A lot. Like all the freaking time. I'm sure it's super annoying, but then I start apologizing for apologizing so much, and it can turn ugly. So. Instead, when I get the urge to apologize to Nasser, he has asked me to say "I love you". It's super endearing and I love the new habit, although I'm still not very good at it. Typically I still say "I'm sorry" and I follow it up with "I love you". But I've also started remembering to make that mental switch and start with the "I love you" occasionally.

Today started off really great, with a nice breakfast out with Nasser after the bus and before my walk with friends. It switched quickly though when a lot of the feelings from yesterday came back in the short time at home after breakfast. I was hopelessly avoiding crying at intervals, but I still went for the walk and I'm really glad I did. It was the right, accepting, and supportive group who listened to my venting and crying about my f'ing depression, and then we moved onto other topics partway through and it was good and fine. I'm going on a girls weekend with some of my awesome moms friends, some of the ones I've known for a long time and have been the stay-at-home moms I started with. (several of that crowd couldn't make it unfortunately) We're heading up to the mountains a week from today, and my sister and I will likely be getting a 14er (climbing/hiking a 14,000ft mountain) in with some family. We talked about it and I'm feeling really excited about getting that girls time.

I'm sure a lot of what I'm feeling is, I'm back from vacation and back to reality, and I like vacation better. And there's some level of post-vacation blues, and sure some of that is normal. But then when I spiral down all the way, maybe because the post-vacation blues makes me feel guilty about those feelings of "I like vacation better", I spiral down and down and down all the way to "I hate my life" and "I am a failure". And those feelings don't belong in my head.

I've been getting through the last day and a half of depression with looking at the next vacation possibilities, something I think we'll do entirely on our own. We thought about visiting friends, but now I'm thinking we need some little family unit time. A "stay-cation" somewhere else. Maybe a Mexican all-inclusive resort. Maybe a stay in the Colorado mountains, just us 4. I looked at flights all over and we're talking about getting serious in getting the kids' passports. It's tentative still, but I've been looking at ideas online, vrbos, groupons, and tons of pricing out how ridiculous certain things are. Because what if we could find an awesome deal to Thailand or Hawaii or Costa Rica? Our little family needs something, and it likely will be on a much smaller scale when we do the pricing, but right now we're looking and searching and reading and considering. And it's fun and it's getting me through these bad days.

I leaving it there today, as blogging even that much, while therapeutic, is also exhausting today. And I want to focus on the travel idea anyway.

mm gonna try with a little help from my friends

Monday, 09/19/16, 11:17am

Wow. Today wasn't supposed to be like this. I've had many different ideas of what today was going to look like over the past few weeks since it's a day off from school for the boys, but depression was never supposed to be part of today. Or yesterday for that matter.

We had a wonderful weekend with our friend from high school visiting. She is a long-time friend, since the beginning of high school for me, end of high school for Nasser, and it just so happens that several years later, Nasser and I met at one of her Christmas parties. So you could say she brought us together. :)

Anyway, she flew in Friday evening and out Sunday in the middle of the day. It was a whirlwind visit, but we tried not to plan too much. Some things, like RG's horseplay class horse show,

and the neighborhood picnic were unavoidable, but we didn't make any huge plans for hikes or trips up to the mountains. Those would have been wonderful, but I think we all needed a more relaxing visit close to home.

Lots of catching up, my friend (a gymnast) helped TK into several little cartwheels and flips and hanging upside down. We have known for awhile that we NEED to get this kiddo into gymnastics but having some of her influence this weekend, made us realize it more. The videos below show some of the reasons I think he'd be great at it, and LOVE it. He's obsessed with using his upper body strength at playgrounds. :)

So, at this point, you're probably like, hey girl, you're avoiding talking about the depression. Maybe. But then writing about the good stuff is really therapeutic to me as well. I'm getting there. Be patient.

Yesterday soon after we woke up, though, we found out my sister's father-in-law passed away on Saturday. Getting hit with another close death, one who was close to my own parents' ages, and feeling so much for my sister and my brother-in-law and his family, and my nephews, I was feeling a lot of sadness yesterday, which sometimes triggered other depression-related things.

I drove my friend to the airport yesterday morning, and I cried almost the whole way home. I cried for my sister's father-in-law, I cried for Adam, I cried for my aunt who died earlier this year. I cried about death. What a crappy year.

I feel so mortal this year.

A little after I got back from the airport, my mother-in-law and her husband arrived, Indian takeout in hand. It was a nice day spent with them, I took some hammock alone time after lunch. But I couldn't feel happy.

And I tried...

For once I didn't really hide my sadness entirely from the others. First I told Nasser I wasn't doing well, but openly fought tears or let into tears several times throughout the day. But yesterday, it was more sadness, more grief.

Today, I panicked before my shower. I started panicking about everything we had to do between now and leaving for our Bermuda trip tomorrow evening. And then once the tears started, I just couldn't really fight them. I held it together when I went into my psychiatrist's office, but only in the waiting area. I couldn't hold it together when I told Nasser I needed him at my appointment with me, I couldn't hold it together when I sat there telling my doctor how things have been going, and I couldn't hold it together when I drove to, or from, my appointment, and I couldn't hold it together when I told my step father-in-law that I didn't think I could come with on this mountain excursion planned for today, and I couldn't hold it together when RG asked me why I couldn't come today and he then utterly refused to go as well, and I couldn't hold it together when I asked for help from a few of my local mom friends for a different appointment tomorrow (thank goodness that was all on facebook chat and NOT in person), and I can't hold it together every time my thoughts stray towards "I am a failure".

It is ok though for me to have a bad day. Or couple of days. I have to allow that with grief, and apparently I have to allow that with stress and periods as well. Because yeah, the period is happening now. Right smack in the middle of everything else, and in time for these flights to Bermuda (I hate having my period on a plane and with an effing red-eye flight thrown in there) and I really didn't want my period on any beach/snorkeling/swimming days. WTF. Hopefully it at least finishes before the end of the trip. And the plane rides are really going to be the absolute worst of it.

And now I'm going to fight that urge to apologize for "TMI" because I'm not gonna. Because as we recall, I want to make it normal to talk about menstruation.

Today, I have just a few things I'm going to do. Blogging was high on the priority list, but there's also all the laundry and the list-making and the packing. I can do it, right? Even if I have to lay on my bed and cry every half hour, I can still accomplish a lot.

RG is home with me, which wasn't supposed to happen in one of those plans for today. He would get a reading and video game day if I do nothing else. But the two of us had a long talk yesterday in the hammock about his cousins' grandpa, illness, cancer and chemotherapy. I taught him a little about the immune system and told him about vaccines and some of the diseases they protect him against, we talked about illness in previous centuries and plagues and death. Perhaps it was all very morbid, but he learned a ton and he loved getting personal mommy time to talk. When TK kicked us out of the hammock so he and grandma could have some time, RG asked me to continue the conversation more. But something happened when we came inside. I started ruminating again and I had to postpone the Mommy-RG time until today (hopefully).

It makes me nervous, all these ideas and expectations that so easily form in my head as I write about my plans for today. I gotta remember to take it easy and slow and controlled today. I am cutting myself slack today by not going up into the mountains, and I'm making it easier to finish some of the tasks that need to happen before our trip. But I'm going to breathe and say, I got this. And I'm going to breathe and say, it's good to take care of myself. And I'm going to breathe and say, it's ok.

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.

I don't belong here

Monday, 02/15/16, 5:15pm

I don't want to blog. Really I want to do nothing. I want to not exist. I want to never have existed.

I'm not quite sure what happened. I know that little things have triggered me over the last two days, and I'm feeling angry, hurt, ashamed, unloved, stupid. I feel like I'm the scum of the earth.

I feel like I should not exist.

Again, I don't want to blog. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I think this might help, but I also don't want anything to help. I want to wallow. I want to cry. I want to feel the punishment of my existence. Because that's what this feels like. I am scum so I deserve to feel this way. I'm not strong enough, I don't want to be better enough; and therefore, this is my punishment.

Oh fuck.

This feels like shit.

I am not weak.

I am not scum.

I don't deserve to feel this way. This is not a challenge given to me from God. This is a sucky disease. I am not depressed because I'm not strong enough or not good enough. Depression is not some thing or mood you can will yourself out of. Mental illness is not some thing or mood you can will or pray yourself out of.

I think I'm through the worst of it now. But I still don't want to blog.

Get through the rest of today. Maybe no full recovery today, but that's ok. Survive.