it's true that you are touched by something that will grow and bloom in you

Thursday, 01/24/19, 3:17pm

Hi.

Ummm, hey.

It's been a little while.

Well kinda a long while.

I think as time went longer since my last post, I found it harder and harder to come back.

Things are, well, going.

I'm actually doing pretty well right now. I finished that DBT course at the end of November, got excited about exercise again and have made it a priority each week since then, and I'm slowly learning how to incorporate some new skills in my life. It's certainly not perfect, and never will be, and to be totally fair, perfection is not possible for any of us. But it's... not too bad really. I've gotten my kiddos interested in "meditation". Probably a good couple times a week, when they're working on falling asleep, I'll talk them through an exercise. I talk them through some breathing, some imagery usually, and just some general good calming techniques. We've only done it at bedtime so far, but I really like that sometimes they request it. It's pretty cool to be honest.

For Christmas we drove to the Chicago area. Nasser and I are both from there. His immediate family is there, but I now only have extended family there. And of course, we both have quite a few friends there still. We were there for about a week, it was really nice and all, but a bit of a whirlwind, as it usually is. We did get to spend some really good quality time with Nasser's family, and some bits with some friends but definitely couldn't fit in everybody. The picture below was taken at the Chicago Botanic Gardens, by Nasser's mom, with a little enhancement I guess by Google. I totally love that the boys ended up in the background.

And just one more picture. Not perfect, and a bit blurry, but I caught some of the Chicago skyline outside the Shedd Aquarium. It makes me happy.

Somehow over the holidays I decided I would train for this half marathon. I've been registered for it for awhile. It all started with having registered for the Glacier National Park half marathon last June, which my three siblings and one brother-in-law ran. I didn't train, was in no shape to do it, was having foot problems, and so I didn't do it. I was able to transfer my registration to a different race, specifically the Zion National Park half marathon, which is one month from yesterday, Saturday February 23rd. I guess you could say I've been doing ok. I made out a little schedule for myself and did my longest run yet yesterday- 8.2 miles. I'm doing physical therapy every week to keep from getting injured, keeping up with some cross-training, and I'm trying not to get wrapped up into too high of expectations. I've been extremely surprised with how well it's all going.

Next week we have a contractor starting up with our bathroom remodel, finally. It's been a long and stressful process trying to find one we like, finalize our design, and get through choosing everything (which we have a lot of still). But it is happening and I really really can't wait to have it all finished.

This Sunday we are attending a Celebration of Life event. It's for the anesthesiologist/psychiatrist from the place I did ECT. The whole thing is really heartbreaking. He and the other psychiatrist started this practice, and this guy was diagnosed with cancer literally one month before dying. He was a really kind and calming person to be putting you to sleep prior to the seizure. You always knew you were in good hands. The event is expected to have a really large attendance.

And now I have no transition from that sad paragraph. But then, as usual, we are experiencing my jumping around train of though.

I've figured out something I really love about winter. RG and TK are now "grown up" enough that after school, when there's snow, I feel comfortable letting them outside for hours at a time while they sled, build sledding jumps, and make snowballs. Sometimes they're out there until it has gotten fully dark. They like going to the slope across the other side of the greenbelt lawn, but even when they're there I can make them out from the back window. Usually when it gets dark though, they hang out just to the side of our house (see pic below) where there is a very small slope. When they come home, their stuff is soaked, they stink, and often they have dragged into the garage some huge "snowballs" in the sleds that they want to save. In December there was even a time when they put snowballs into plastic bags and stored them in the freezer for a few weeks.

(You know what? I love having a post that's mostly good things.)

Oh and, going back to the exercise discussion, I am suddenly doing an "indoor triathlon" this Sunday. One of my sisters was signed up for it but has been having knee issues, so when she asked if anyone wanted her spot, for some reason I said yes. Hah. It should be ok though. It's all in a gym. And it's based on time. So they throw you in the pool for 10 minutes, give you a 10 minute transition, you go on a stationary bike for 30 minutes, 5 minute transition, then 20 minutes on a treadmill. And they just track your distance on each segment and you get points based on that. We'll see. I would be a bit happier with like 20 minutes in the pool and less of the others.

One more thing. I promise. I really will stop bragging/sharing/whatever this is. I am yet again trying to be in my choir. I'm really excited about it, again. And this time, I really hope it sticks. Our upcoming March concert is Mardi Gras music, aka New Orleans Jazz music. I think it's going to be amazingly awesome.

Well, perhaps when I next post I'll be able to update on my half marathon. Which hopefully happens. And I hopefully don't kill my body in trying to make it happen.

I'll flag, I'll fall, I'll falter, I'll find my day may be, far and away...

Thursday, 11/01/18, 1:55pm

I don't really know how to start at the moment. I guess I'll first give you a brief update on some things. I had intended to write and upload a post a couple weeks ago. But... something got in the way. I was out of the house for a few hours, and in between a yoga class and PT appointment I was hanging out at a nearby coffee shop typing out a post. I didn't finish but planned to later that day. Well I went home after the appointment and discovered water dripping from the ceiling around the doorway of the study. I realized quickly that our master bathroom is directly above it. The source of the water was from our toilet, which we later discovered was leaking due to some rusted through tank bolts. The toilet had been jostled just enough that morning by the cleaning crew we have come every two weeks. It likely had only been leaking/flooding for 3-4 hours, but it was kinda bad since you know, it was coming from the tank which just keeping refilling. The water leaked down into the study and then down into our basement. A bit of a nightmare really.

Here's our bathroom with toilet room. Of course, it's still carpeted because it's one thing we haven't gotten around to changing and because when the house was built, somebody had this amazing idea that bathrooms should be carpeted. Those are my footsteps in the soaked carpet trying to figure out what was happening.

A lot of water mitigation happened with massive industrial grade fans and dehumidifiers, some tearing up of rooms, some plumbing and insurance stuff (plumbing only to fix the water shutoff to that toilet so we could have water to the rest of the house, not to fix the toilet). And of course quite a bit of disruption to life.

We have a lot to do. We're getting stuff all ready to soon rip up and redo our other upstairs bathroom, since it is looking like that toilet, also original to the house, is having a slow leak going on.

I guess the next project will be our bathroom, then the study (which also needs some evaluation as to damage to the walls and ceiling).

It's "good" since the flooding really only hit rooms we had planned to redo. There's some damage to our cork flooring on the main floor just outside the study but we have some leftover cork in the garage so it should be a reasonably easy fix.

But then of course it just sucks. It sucks. I don't like having to share the kids' shower. I don't like having to go to their bathroom when I wake up needing to pee in the middle of the night. I don't like the smell when I pass by the door to the study. Sigh. I know I'm a spoiled brat, but I'm still rather grumpy about all of this.



So the main reason I picked up my Chromebook to write is that today has been really challenging. I woke up feeling really really bad. I felt feel sadness, lots of shame, self-doubt, and probably even some anger. It all seems silly too, but I am learning from my DBT class to validate my feelings. (I mentioned some about DBT in the last post- I'm about to finish my 5th week of it, going MWF 9am-noon, with additional homework and an hour a week meeting with the individual therapist they assigned to me). I'm not sure I'm even going to go into the whys of my feelings, even though I tend to just share everything. I guess there's some shame happening over why I've been feeling this way.

I've been working really hard all day with lots of DBT skills. I made it to my strength circuit class at the Y, even though I really didn't want to (opposite to emotion action); I did a lot of observing/describing/participating (under the mindfulness module) during the class and tried to do it all "one-mindfully", so paying close attention to my form and breath in each movement; I used the "thoughts" skill (under wise mind ACCEPTS within the distress tolerance module) to count things in the gym like rungs on the upstairs rail around the track and my reps and the cones on the floor and various parts of the walls and floor. I've listened to a lot of music today, favorites and soothing stuff (from the distraction techniques and again, wise mind ACCEPTS). (FYI, I'm only briefly referencing the specific skills because I know you all can read up on things more on your own).

I've been taking a lot of "me time" today. I ate a good lunch and drank a nice latte after exercising, but kept up with the recent tracking food thing I've been doing to help lose some weight, and I even entered each piece of Halloween candy I ate. I read, listened to more music, worked on DBT homework to help me through some of the emotions. Eventually, just before starting this post, I had a big breakdown of sobbing. I'm working hard on the DBT validation of emotions stuff and "riding the emotional wave" stuff to just experience it all and not judge it. It's really really really hard, but AND (dialectics from mindfulness) I think it's helping.

One of the things DBT is teaching me is that doing things that help, even just a little bit, are worth doing. I don't have to try and force my way out of a bad spell by pushing away the feelings and making myself do a full recovery. I think I've put this pressure on myself for a long time that I just need to be "all better". I've never really understood quite what that meant, but I've never been there, and so in my mind I'm a failure. I've also had this expectation of myself that whenever people ask how I'm doing I answer with something along the lines of "I'm doing much better". Because that feels like what everyone wants to hear. I'm still working on a new response to that question.

I don't know that I have anything else to say right now. I guess I just want to say that the DBT stuff is worthwhile, for people struggling with emotions or whatever, and really just for everybody out there.

it wasn't me, it was my strange and creeping doubt, it keeps rattling my cage

Sunday, 09/30/18, 4:08pm, 8:17pm

Hey there.

I made a discovery today, this afternoon, this last half hour of a technique I'm hoping to make use of in my "battle". (Whatever it's supposed to be called. My ongoing struggle, my life, my mental illness journey, my depression, my bipolar-ness). So often, I'm not necessarily even doing too badly, I find myself having a degrading dialogue with myself. You suck, you're a horrible mom, you're a horrible human being, you'll never be able to handle "it", you'll never succeed at anything, you'll never win this. I wasn't having the best morning/day today, but then I was doing a little better in the last hour or so. I had taken a shower, which helped, and I'd taken some snack and water to my boys at the park while Nasser was heading out for a Costco run. I was working on a puzzle when I found myself in this dialogue.

Well this time I took a real vulgar approach to it. Oh f*ck you, you a**hole depression. You stupid bipolar sh*t telling me all these awful lies. You're not wanted, you mother-f*cking worthless piece of crap. You may know my weaknesses or what brings me down, but that doesn't mean you know me.

It helped.

Unfortunately, I went through this cycle back and forth. I'd say this in my head, keep enjoying my puzzle, and those thoughts would come back, and I'd say it again. I'm not down again, so I guess it's proving to be a worthwhile technique, but then it doesn't just make those thoughts go away. And I really wish something would.

Tomorrow I'm starting this big deal "intensive outpatient" program for DBT, aka dialectical behavior therapy. This therapy is done in a group setting, three times a week, three hours each day, with a little bit of homework each night. Plus a one-hour appointment with the assigned therapist. Oh, and over nine weeks. It's a really really big commitment, which makes me nervous/anxious/scared/terrified. It sounds like an awesome thing though, and I think the intense immersion of it all will be all that much better for me. It will hopefully make the skills I learn during the program more habitual.

Sometime last month, I also started EMDR, aka eye movement desensitization and reprocessing. It's weird. The results of this therapy seemed a bit mixed when I was initially doing some research on it. It also seems a bit... strange... I guess. I went in with a lot of doubts. But so far, I feel like it's doing something and seems worthwhile. I don't feel like talking a whole lot more about it right now, since I think it would require providing a lot of backstory, etc, so I'm just going to leave it there.

I'm having a hard time accepting that I need this much treatment/help/therapy/support still. And I talked about this just last month and here I am again. I know that I've done so much, I've required so much, and I'm still not where I want to be. I do really well some days, and it seems I do terribly others. I want to reduce those dips and I want to make them less severe. And now... hopefully... this therapy program will help with that. Although I need to go in with, sure, some expectations of myself to gain as much as possible, but without that hope that this will fix it all.

I don't really have anything else to say today. Just that, anyone out there who reads this, think of me, send your kind thoughts, energy, and strength my way as I continue this work in the form of this program over the next 9 weeks.

oh no, be strong, walk on, walk on

Wednesday, 08/29/18, 9:39am

Well. So. Hmmm.

Every so often, I have a day or even just a moment of "hey I should really blog about this". And then of course I don't make note of it and forget it or just give up for awhile on blogging. I've written a lot of blog posts over the past, whatever it is, oh, I guess it's been since November of 2015. And apparently it's a ridiculous 221 posts. Yikes. I sometimes wonder... like how much of that has any real worth to it? How much has just been repeated? I'm sure a ton, really. Other than the "oh this is what's been going on in my life" the last day, or week, or month. I don't know. It just kinda adds to my feeling of insignificance in some way. Sigh.

So RG, my older kiddo had this 5th grade overnight camp thing going on this week. They were leaving Monday morning from school, going about an hour away but up in the mountains a bit and in the wilderness with hiking, camping, bonfires, etc. Unfortunately RG developed an infection last week, got on antibiotics last Friday, seemed worse over the weekend, and was unable to leave with the class on Monday. He somehow got a ton better on Monday, so we decided I'd drive him up Tuesday morning to join everyone. It seemed perfect that he could at least get half the trip. But then he got really nervous on the drive, wanted to just turn around and go home. I kept saying things like oh, but we've gone this far, we may as well get there and see what it's like. When we arrived we got to the lodge and cabins but all the kids were out on a hike, so there were a few counselors who came and helped us out. We had an awful time getting him to stay. He got more and more resistant and after a lot of arguing, him being extremely upset, we started driving back down. Partway down, still rather close to the site, after lots of discussing, he finally said that he was concerned that other kids would think he was better now, why couldn't he come Monday? And then those kids would tell other kids, etc. I saw myself reflected in his worries, my fears of what people will think about me, how they'll judge me. I talked about myself with him, how I have a lot of fears like that, and when I end up backing out of things I'd originally wanted to go to, I regretted it. I told him about the pride he'd feel about doing it anyway and trying what he could. We turned around, he seemed a ton better, and he stayed.

The whole experience was... a really mixed bag. I did feel pride in him, pride in myself for finally becoming empathetic, I felt like we got through a lot of the tough feelings. But it all took so much out of me. It made me realize how much I need to be an example of all these things to my kids. It made me think about how, if I expect them to try in life and to be willing to try and fail, I need to do the same. And I often feel like I can't do that. I feel like I fail all the time. I feel like I will never succeed in the things I desperately want to. I hate that feeling.

I may have mentioned in recent posts that I've decided to join choir again this year. This past Saturday was the kick-off party, which I was planning to go to, but I backed out of it. There were a few logistic reasons that made it difficult to attend. My nephew's birthday party was the same day with a theoretical ending at the time the choir party was starting. But then it would have been a bit of a drive between the two. Then the bday party went longer than that anyway, and I wasn't too excited to leave that either. But. Perhaps the biggest reason was that I was terrified to go. I was terrified to see these people and "catch up" or just in general converse with all of them. I was afraid that I might sorta recognize people but not really remember then due to the treatment. I couldn't remember who even knew about the treatment. I was scared.

Then last night was the first choir rehearsal of the season. I was extremely nervous (to say the least) to go. I even had a stupid anxiety attack when I saw my calendar saying the rehearsal started at 6pm and this was already 5:50. I cried, I could barely breathe. Thankfully Nasser was there to help me through and thought to give me my kick in immediately anti-anxiety pill. Eventually I was capable enough to check the official calendars and realize that chamber choir (which I'm not in) has rehearsal 6-7 and concert choir (which I am in) starts at 7pm. Oi.

I went. I went, I went, I went. And choir was wonderful. So incredibly wonderful. It was the perfect amount of talking with a few people, of hearing the director speak about the upcoming season and a bit of Aretha Franklin tribute, of remembering the warm up, of re-learning how to site read music, of remembering that I like to tap my fingers on my leg for what the piano playing of certain measures would be. It felt really good. It was everything Nasser had said it would be, especially in his reminding me of how much singing really means to me. And I had forgotten how supportive these people are, to eachother in general, but also to me, in welcoming me back, in hugging me, in asking about my last year, and in hearing about my last year. When I got in the car after rehearsal, I took a moment to say to myself "I did it. I did it".

I did it. I do it. I try to do it. All critical things to life. All critical to building confidence. All critical to telling those stupid depressive thoughts to just shut up.

life has a funny way of helping you out

Saturday, 08/18/18, 12:56pm

In the last few hours I've been thinking about expectations. Big expectations. Low expectations. Loads of expectations.

Each of us has some amount of expectations over our heads.

I don't think about it often enough, but I suppose I expect Nasser to work, to keep a job, to support our family, to provide healthcare so that I can be treated, to work because I feel unable to work.

I expect our kids to listen to us (at least some or most of the time. to be honest I suppose I expect it all the time and that's why I freak out everytime they don't listen). I expect our kids to help out in the house in certain ways- to set the table, to clear and clean the table especially when they make a mess, to clean up their toys when it's needed or I need it, to get themselves ready for school or for us going places, to do their homework, to eat what I feed them, to brush their teeth in the mornings and evenings, to take a shower when I tell them they really need it, to be nice to eachother and to us. Hmmm, I guess that's a lot of expectations.

I expect a lot of things out of myself. I expect to get myself to work out everyday. I expect for me to choose to eat healthy everyday, to stick to a plan to lose weight. I expect for myself to be strong for the people around me, and for myself. I expect to fight the depression. I expect myself to not let it trickle in, to control me. I expect to be capable, quickly, every time it hits, to fight, and to fight hard.

I expect a lot of more "normal" things as well. I expect to take care of my family, to keep a safe home, to provide support to my children and husband (emotionally, lovingly, as well as nutritionally, logistically, socially, and whatever). I expect to either work outside the home or to take on a lot of childcare in the home (or both).

I expect to try. really hard. I expect to try the things I know should could help me. I expect to work on integrating into my life things like regular exercise, healthy eating, mindfulness, practice in calming myself, reading, forgiving myself, dropping my bad thoughts into my bucket of soapy water (see previous post).

I have expected, going into each treatment over the years, that this would be the thing that worked. I expected to "get better" with electro-convulsive therapy. And I have, in particular in comparison to what I was going into it, but I think I expected more. I'm not sure what I expected/expect with every treatment. Maybe I expect(ed) that something out there will just make me miraculously 100% better. And I know that everyone deals with bad days, etc. I'm pretty sure the stuff I'm still experiencing are still within the depression spectrum. I was told recently that I'm "in remission". I'm still trying to figure out what that means. I guess by this definition, "if the disease is in remission, the disease has been controlled so that they are not as ill as they were", it would be valid. I suppose I need to modify my expectations. Depression/Bipolar II is a lifelong illness and can't be "cured" in the true sense, but only "remitted".

And I am not as ill as I was. And I am finding that other things are working more than they ever did (cognitive behavioral therapy for one, practicing strategies on my own, actively finding ways to improve my mood when it hits rather than ruminating, even if I start off ruminating). I guess I expected just wish I was cured, rather than remitted only.

I've been wondering how to "phase out" ECT. It's been every 4 weeks for a little while now, our appointment with the ECT doc this past Thursday was good, but it was much up to me. We came up with the options to either stop here and see how it goes (as has been an option for some time now) or to taper more slowly, getting myself to every 5 weeks, 6 weeks, up to 8 weeks, and stop there. Either way I plan to set reminders for myself to "check in" with my feelings, with how I'm doing. And I'll be setting up a doctor appointment to check in a few months after stopping to be sure I don't need a boost. I decided to set up the appointment for a treatment at about 5.5 weeks and I'll cancel if I'm feeling like that's the right decision. Tapering does feel a bit safer to me though.

I've been really judging myself when it comes to ECT lately. Maybe I had the expectation that I would be done sooner. Maybe it's this prejudice that I have against myself that I'm messed up because I still need ECT (maybe I have a prejudice against myself that I did mess up enough to need ECT in the first place). I do tend to feel like people are judging me when I mention treatment and it feels like they are thinking "wow, she's still doing that??". And of course, most, if not all, of this is in my head. But knowing that doesn't really help much.


I guess I need to remind myself that I'm in remission, not cured. If and when I need heftier treatment, be it ECT or something else, later on, whenever it is, in life, it is ok. It is and always will be a journey.


PS, here's what I've been working on a bit today, after starting to feel crappy. I'm currently calling it my "comfort book", which I may have mentioned in a previous post, but I've made some progress. These are all things/images/quotes/pictures that speak to me, provide me comfort and/or motivation.

and all these sorrows I have seen, they lead me to believe that everything's a mess

Monday, 08/13/18, 11:21am, 4:17pm, 5:30pm

My brain.

It's hard not to despise my brain when my depression strikes, or even just in thinking about or talking about my depression. Hmmm, maybe I'll change that to "the depression" rather than "my" depression. Maybe that helps, or can help, take away some of that self-shaming. "My" makes it sound like my fault.

Anyway.

I get these depressive thoughts that run me in circles thinking that "I suck", "I'm a failure at [insert anything and everything]", "I don't deserve to live", "I don't deserve to even be treated for depression", etc, etc. This morning I was trying to (and I've certainly tried this before as well) tell myself that "these thoughts are the depression", "they aren't real", etc. And I was capable enough to tell myself this (which is a long way from what I've been in the past, or even most of my crashes), but I couldn't get myself to believe this. I start saying things like "I suck so bad that I can't even stop believing all this even though I know it's the depression".

Nasser and I were discussing this morning how to fight these thoughts, you know, cuz I was in the midst of a crash. He talked about learning to recognize that these thoughts are happening and that these thoughts are originated by the depression, which is basically the foundation of using mindfulness for depression. But then we talked about, after recognizing this, placing these thoughts away. Sorta like all the distraction techniques.

I'm starting to get a good image in my head of where to place these thoughts. Last week I was at my sister's house. And she's really big into gardening and yard work, all of which I have a lot of trouble with. I saw that she has this method of taking care of these Japanese beetles that eat the tops of fruit trees. She keeps a little bucket of soapy water in the backyard and when she finds a beetle she puts it in there. The beetle can't escape because of the soap in the water and it drowns. I saw this method again last night when Nasser and I watched a video of a homemade yellow jacket trap and they used soapy water again to drown the yellow jackets in the end.

So now, I'm using the soapy water image to "trap" and "drown" my depression thoughts. The image helped this morning, but I haven't exactly experimented with it much. I'm not sure that it will work but I guess over the years I'm never sure that anything will work. I just have to keep trying.

The other thing that Nasser reminded me of this morning is that progress doesn't have to be fast. I don't have to become an expert at a particular method in a day. The whole idea that progress can be slow is something I need to work on, something I need to apply to everything I do. I'm getting there with losing weight and trying to get in shape. I've been trying to make bits of progress here and there. I've been trying to recognize that I can do 20min on the stationary bike at home and still feel like I did something worthwhile. And I'm trying to notice things like "hey, I haven't been snacking so much between meals lately". I don't have to lose 20 pounds in a few weeks or something. Even if the progress is slow, it's still progress.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned, and at the moment I don't feel like perusing my latest posts, I'm still getting ECT treatment but it's been every 4 weeks for pretty much the whole summer I think. Once we hit the 4 week stretch, after increasing the interval each time, the ECT psychiatrist gave me the option to stop there and see how it goes, or to do some more treatments at 4 week intervals and see how it goes. And I chose the latter. So now, Nasser and I plan to meet with the doctor on Thursday to discuss the plan moving forward. I think, or assume, that this meeting will determine that it's time to stop, but I also want to have a clear plan moving forward of how we'll check in to be sure I don't need to go back to it. My last treatment, 2 weeks ago, was... awful. Let me clarify. The treatment itself was fine although I seemed to have some more physical pain than usual, but then that physical pain seemed to last longer than it ever had before. And I seemed to have a big emotional crash as well, that didn't recover all too quickly, and maybe it's still a bit of an issue (although it's hard to tell since the boys go back to school on Wednesday and maybe I'm sick of the summer).

I feel mostly ready to be done with ECT. But then there's also this, I guess, crutch feeling to it. I'm scared to stop. I'm scared I'll stop and I'll steadily get worse and worse, but it will be hard to tell and I won't want to admit it, and then I won't want to admit or accept that I really just need another treatment boost or whatever. I'm scared it will be too hard to recognize what I need. It's always been hard to recognize that anyway. (I assume it has been, since my memory isn't all too good.)

But then I'm glad to stop and have more memory improvement. I still find it really difficult to discover things I don't remember, I find it difficult to talk with people that I don't talk with regularly and I have no memory of how much I've talked with them about my treatment or if I'm forgetting times when I did see them over this past year.

I'm glad to stop trying to figure out a bunch of logistics for every time I have a treatment.

I'm glad to stop having to deal with the fasting, the clear liquids only stuff, and the recovery over the couple to several to many days after.

I hope that this will go well. I hope I continue to have improvement in this fight. I hope that I continually find ways that really work and that I'm able to practice them and that I'm able to make some of them second nature. I hope that I can start feeling more confident in things in my life. I hope that I can feel confident enough to start and stick with choir again in a few weeks, like I plan on doing. I hope that I can keep feeling more and more confident as a parent, and really every other role I play in this life. I hope.

starlight, I will be chasing a starlight until the end of my life... our hopes and expectations, black holes and revelations

Thursday, 07/12/18, 2:59pm EDT

Apologies for the long absence. I can blame travel for some for it (which I am yet again doing), and having kids home with me for a bunch of time over their summer vacation so far. "A bunch" as in a lot more than I'm used to, not "a bunch" compared to other people out there. But then to give some perspective, "a bunch" more than others out there as well.

I actually wrote a longish draft about a month ago but never finished it and thereby never published it. This has happened before. If it gets to be long enough after writing the beginning of a post, I lose that momentum, that thought train, and it all doesn't make much sense to me anymore to bother attempting to finish it. Eh. That draft was written towards the end of that one biggish suicide week- the one with Kate Spade's suicide, Anthony Bourdain's suicide, and the release of that CDC report about the increase in suicide rate throughout the US since 1999. It was a tough week, emotionally, as suicide discussion is always difficult for me. And then, just in writing the above, I couldn't remember Anthony Bourdain's name, so I was searching through some list of notable people who have committed suicide in the 21st century, and I came across Robin Williams' name from his suicide in 2014, which had escaped my memory. And then there was just the scary length that list was. So now I'm just feeling all the feels again, as usual, of how badly I wish we could get a better handle/abatement/ or just something on mental illnesses and general wish people have of no longer existing. It just... sucks.

But. That isn't the topic I wanted to discuss today.


I want to discuss failure.

It’s something I'm quite certain I’ve brought up before, in varying degrees and contexts, but… failure.

Failure.

Failure is something that has been a really big deal in my head and I’ve continually striven to “not be a failure” which has meant I must somehow be “perfect” (since that’s the opposite?). I think a lot of my depressive thoughts have centered around “I am a failure”:

“I am a failure as a mom”,
“I am a failure because I became a mom so young”,
“I am a failure because I got pregnant out of wedlock”,
“I am a failure at using my engineering degrees”,
“I am a failure at fighting my depression”,
“I am a failure because my depression treatment finally brought me to requiring Electro-Convulsive Therapy this past year”,
“I am a failure at integrating into my life all the things I’ve learned from therapy and depression reading/research and discussions and advice from others”,
“I am a failure at staying in shape”,
“I am a failure because I’ve gained a bunch of weight in the last 2 years”,
“I am a failure because I don’t fit into the clothes I used to”,
“I am a failure because I can’t run a mile without taking walking breaks and without my feet screaming at me”,

“I am a failure because……….”

Everything. Anytime, anywhere, always. Despite that big list, it’s only the tip of the iceberg; I really could go on and on. But you really don’t want to read more than that list, you probably didn’t want to read that long of a list, and I really don’t want to continue because I also know that it could just send me down the hole when here I am, trying to write stuff to keep me out of the hole and maybe even, if possible, help others to not go down that hole.

I went to Catholic schools 1st through 8th grades, switching schools halfway through due to a move we made. Which as a side note, sucks for having to make new friends, you know?

Anyway, I was pretty smart (maybe still am, who knows?), in particular at math. In first grade I was doing second grade math. I can’t actually remember if this event happened in first grade or second, but one of the times I left my classroom to join the next grade’s math, while my class continued working on whatever it was we had been working on (because this is how it was done. Someone from the other class would come to say they were ready for me to join in, and other stuff was done in my classroom. Because apparently this special case they made for me wasn’t really done before? And maths were not taught at the same times? anyway…), apparently while I was gone, the teacher made an announcement to the class to not bring the assignment home to finish because she was concerned we’d all leave the work at home. Well of course I never heard this announcement. And of course I was learning the other math while everyone else could work on this assignment so I had to bring it home in order to work on it and catch up. And then guess what happened? Yup, you guessed it… I left my assignment at home. Because what else would a child of 6 or 7 have done? So then the next day when I told the teacher I’d left my work at home (and I wasn’t smart enough apparently, or at least not learned in the ways of standing up for myself, to say that I hadn’t been in class when she gave that announcement), she really brought me to understand how badly I messed up. And the typical punishment at that time was to put kids to stand in corners (cuz somehow that made sense??). Well I ended up in a corner behind the teacher’s desk. And then she forgot about me. And it still didn’t occur to me to stand up for myself, but I ended up there for way longer than I should have. And I stood there, silently crying. Eventually I was taken out of my punishment, but somehow any memory of the teacher making any apology doesn’t seem to exist; all I remember is the other details in rather exact perfection.

And needless to say, after that school year I decided I wouldn’t go learn the next year’s math anymore because it just wasn’t worth that kind of humiliation and that kind of crushing my spirits and that kind of origin or reinforcement of this idea that I’ve messed up/I’m a failure.

In high school and college I think I felt really good because I thrived so well academically. In high school I was always in accelerated/ advanced placement classes, I got the highest possible score on every one of the advanced placement exams I took earning me college credit. Then in college I studied mechanical engineering, which challenged me, but I guess I rose to the challenge. I did well, I graduated after four years, with one of the semesters being away and working as a co-op, and with internships for each of the summers. I even graduated “with honors” aka magna cum laude or one of those things. I’m not saying all this to brag, but to try and make out what it all has been through my life, what has been my measure of whether or not I’m a failure at that particular bit of my life. I guess I understand a little as to why I put such importance on the academic stuff, even if I don’t think it was the healthiest, especially considering how I think that attitude has probably contributed some/a lot to my current mental health issues which really manifested post kids. I’ve had some additional schooling (with my master’s degree) and some working, but I’ve felt like I haven’t done nearly enough, and I don’t feel remotely capable of going back into it, especially since the ECT treatment has destroyed so much memory. But then I don’t at all feel “enough” as a mother and continually feel like a failure there in my interactions with my kids, and I see all the other mothers around me and compare myself with them and I see how much they are able to accomplish while I can barely do anything especially when I’m constantly doing things for my mental health (and failing at that in the process).

Ok, so let’s try some different things out that don’t focus on the failure stuff so much. Oi. This sounds hard and sounds like I’m already setting myself up for failure.

Deep breath.

Listen a bit to that fantastic music running through my earbuds right now.

Remember a few things…
I love my children.
I love my husband.
I love my family and friends.
I love all those out there who struggle, with the same or similar stuff/thoughts, or with completely different mental or physical or just daily stuff.
I love… myself. (despite how badly I want to add “I think” to that statement)

Now a few more things…
from my bracelets given to me by two wonderful supportive people in my life…

“YOU ARE ENOUGH”
“You Are Braver Than You Believe Stronger Than You Seem And Smarter Than You Think”

I try to wear these bracelets almost every day, because even if I don't sit there and read them multiple times a day, or even when I really should read them as a reminder when I'm down, I think the process of putting them on in the morning is a little uplifting reminder thing that then is just part of my day. And those continuous, habitual reminders can make an enormous difference and very much help in the long run (as I believe research shows but I am too lazy at the moment to look it up and provide links).

Some more things to remember...
I try very very hard, in everything I do, in all the different roles I play in my life, as a wife, as a mother, as a family member to many, as a friend to many.
I try very hard to make the world a slightly better place, particularly in my role as a person who struggles with mental illness and has come to some capability of sharing my personal experiences with others.
I love others around me with my whole heart, even when I don't speak to them very often, even when they live far away or I hardly ever see them, even when they only have been part of my life for a short bit of time a long time ago. I love, very much.
I try to be a good person, to care about people and the world and the earth.


There are some therapies I'm considering trying out to work through some of this "I am a failure" stuff that I continually come back to. Because it is still a bit too ingrained than this post or my lists will really fix. Don't get me wrong, I think this stuff helps and will help and is very worth doing. I just think I need more help that just this.

I would love to get to a point in my life when I can truly discuss this failure stuff, or really all my mental health stuff, without feeling a bit triggered by the discussion. Without wanting to just sit down and sob. Although maybe the fact that I feel these things and yet continue to try and discuss it all with others and share my story is almost even more of an encouragement for others to get there? I don't know. I guess I'm trying to say that I want it to be easier to talk about but also not get to a point where I'm distant or disengaged with it all.

I want everyone out there to be able to recognize the need for help, to feel able/capable/free to seek the help they need, to be free of those feelings of failure that come with seeking help. I want our society, our world, to accept that all people need to feel supported in their lives, in their feelings, in their struggles. Hah, I want that perfect world, rather than that failure of a world I so often feel we're living in. But I guess we do have to continue to strive for the highest possible, without that full connotation of perfection, but maybe just general improvement, so that we don't just keep going at the level we're at. We are not failures, we don't live in failure, but there is always something to keep doing, to keep trying for, to keep improving.