Remember the fat post? Yes. You do. You think after all of that I would have learned something. Nope. You think it might have motivated me to DO something. Nope. You think I would have at least halted where I was and waited it out. Nope. Not that either.
I am now the same as I was right after Colin was born. HOLY SHAMMMMU! What the HECK is going on here? I think I'd better finally make that appt with my GYN for the annual garbage visit we all love so much and get some blood work done. Maybe it's hormonal? Maybe it's thyroid-ial. I don't know gize.
How much do you want to know about me, anyway? Well, I'm feeling a little "So?" this morning. I might sound a bit snootyish. Sorry.
I have depression. Clinical, hereditary, brain-does-it-without-my-permission depression. It makes me anti-social. It makes me eat. It makes me grouchy, destroys my self-esteem, eliminates my ability to make decisions, makes my kids and husband seem outrageously annoying, convinces me that everyone is out to get me, distorts my perception. What else can I say? Mental illness is nasty, people. Nasty! I can put on a pretty good face. I don't know how it happens, actually. I was SO bummed out a couple of days ago and somehow found myself smiling and seeming perfectly normal. There is a difference between my prefabricated happiness and the kind that comes all-natural. Unfortunately, the all-natural kind is hard to come by. I know! It really and truly stinks and I wish I could just change it.
See, I've been on the same meds for over 7 years. I think they have finally just quit doing their job. It's been a gradual thing. Slowly depleating over the last several months, until I suddenly realized that I'm suffering from depression and have been for a while - but in denial. It's all quite annoying. I've been through this a million times and there are tell-tale signs. Things I find myself doing or thinking that raises the red flag. I have to exercise enough self-awareness and self-control to say to my sickened, mentally-ill self that I need to get help. It's like when the power goes out and some generator kicks on the backup lights? I think it's a blessing, actually. I don't think everyone has those. I've seen friends and others with different forms of mental and emotional problems who just can't seem to climb out on their own. I can't climb out alone either, but I can use the backups to at least motivate me to find help.
Ennneeeeeeeeeway......I decided to get help. Went to my guy. He put me on a new stuff. The first two weeks were CRAZY! Now, it's leveled off and I live in a constant state of really tired. It's driven me to become addicted to fully leaded caffeine Coke. There are a few other side effects that I'm becoming aware of. Weird stuff. Most importantly, the dead zone. One or two of you reading know EXACTLY what I'm talking about. Use your imagination. Initially, the dead zone wasn't a big deal. Now? It's starting to be a really big bummer. Otherwise, I still feel like hiding out in my house. I don't want to get dressed or go anywhere. I can't stand the idea of having to do my hair or make myself presentable. I will. If I have to. But it's hard. Ready for this one? I can't stop looking at my skin. This is one of the weird ones. You know how they talk about people on meth who can't stop picking? I can't stop picking!!! I have stopped, now that I've allowed the generator lights to come on and tell me what's going on. So, now after two months of trial, I have to go back to my doctor and go through the process of getting back off this horrible med. What am I going to take now? It sucks.
I was talking to my hair girl about it. She said that her meds make her feel constantly tired too, and she also has the dead zone. It's just not fair.
Depression as a child was hard. I was always convinced that the people laughing nearby were laughing at me. It made me impulsive and I would do crazy things, trying to find some happiness, except that I just ended up getting into a lot of trouble. I couldn't concentrate or function very well mentally, so my grades were in the toilet. In high school, it made me suicidal. I never really tried. I wanted to really badly for about a year or two. Knowing who I am and where I came from kept me from doing it. Somewhere inside me, I knew there was a future I really wanted to have, so I just made it through, I guess. It wasn't until I got married, that I finally sought some medication for help.
I never really knew HOW bad it was until I finally got on medication. All of a sudden, it was like someone turned the lights on. Like I'd been living under water, but finally come to the surface. You know how distorted things are when you're under water? You can't hear other people very well, you can't see things very well, you move slowly....? It's the best way I can think to describe it. Right now, I feel like I'm treading water, occasionally getting caught under, occasionally catching my breath. It's not good enough.
So, I know this is not a well organized post. My thoughts are sorta discombobulated and strange. I also know it's a depressing topic. Duh. I also know that I'm taking a risk telling you such intimate things about myself. It's hard to take. Hard to know your friend might suffer from mental illness and then still want to have lunch and stuff. "How genuine is her smile, anyway?" Just so you know...I might be forcing the smile and forcing myself to get out of the house. But - inside I really do want to be there. It's a strange internal battle. If I'm your friend, and now you're confused, I can tell you that I really do love you. I really do want to be your friend. If I do something really weird, or I seem witchy, or I act like I'm not paying attention...it's all just me battling with my brain to get it to function "normally." I hope it won't be weird the next time we're chatting. Just pretend you knew this all along. I remember telling a friend some really private things about myself and the conversation seemed to go really well. Until the next day. All of a sudden our relationship was completely different and she was all disconnected and stuff. It's happened before. I get it.
So, I'm sitting here at 8:20 in the morning, yawning like I was up all night long, even though I wasn't, wishing I could go back to sleep. If I don't go back to sleep, I'll have to suck down a couple of sodas to get myself moving. Sadly, I became aware early this week that Honey's wearing thin with all this crappola and I have to figure out how to make myself function. I'm sorry that he's annoyed and I'm pizzzzzzzed that he's annoyed. But, I have to choose the high road, right? I've made it this far. I really and truly look forward to the next life, people.
To those of you whom I love, thanks for loving me back. The last few months have been pretty cruddy. At the same time, I've made some brand new and fantabulous friendships in the last few months and I think they are heaven-sent. You know who you are.... I'll make it. I always do. I'll find a way, just like I always do.
And now, we can pretend we never had this discussion and we can pretend that you don't know and I can pretend that I don't know that you know and you're pretending you don't know. Self-induced denial really can be useful.....sometimes. :D
P.S. -- I really am not writing this for sympathy or a bunch of attention. Just writing it. I am fine. Just some honesty - probably too much information. Just don't feel like you have to say something meaningful or sensitive. I promise, I'm not keeping tabs. And, I'm not jumping off a cliff either. It's cool.