Progress

When I wake in the morning, as I slowly come to, I wait and feel until something tells me how I am. What is today? Am I well, am I iffy, am I off? You’d think that a person wakes up the same everyday, that you get out of bed fine and as the day progresses you know how you are. Something happens that can shift it, but I don’t get to do that. Life has a hand in how I feel, for sure, but, first, I check in with my head.

I’ve said before that meds are a band-aid for a disease, that after time, and often without warning, the adhesive gives and something has to change. You either rip it off or you try with all you have to make it stay on. My band aid started to give last October, and despite all of my encouragement for it to stick, I ripped that fucker off.

I did what I think a lot of people (probably) do. You decide that you’re done with this. “This” isn’t working for you any longer and that you can handle it on your own. I had a lot of reasons to stop my meds, but the biggest one was I hoped, the tiniest bit of hope, that I could survive on my own. That I could fight. I could win.

Well, we know how that turned out.

It’s been just 2 weeks since I’ve been back on the pharmaceutical wagon and when I check in with myself in the morning, it’s iffy. I’m still moody, a little on edge and a lot fragile. But I’m getting better, again.

Being well is such hard work.

I wish I could just pop a few pills in the morning and be done. It should be that easy, right? Here’s your RX go sing with the birds. I wish. I wish I didn’t have to unravel once a week on my therapists couch. That I didn’t have to take a depression and anxiety assessment every night before bed. I wish that I didn’t have an actual happiness handbook, but I do. I do, and I have to use the book, and do the homework my therapist assigns me and I have to dust myself off and hope I have it in me to keep going.

This is exhausting. To fight with your head and to change your own mind. That’s what cognitive behavioral therapy is. And it works, and I love it, but hot ham it pisses me off and I hate it. I love that I can change my mind, I hate that I have a mind that requires changing. That I have to talk myself down so many times a day, I have to remind myself not to catastrophise. To take life at face value and not with how it’s making me “feel”- It hurts, and I’m raw but I’m fighting.

I’m fighting, and it’s not how I wanted to win, but I still can so I will keep moving.

Of lights and tunnels

I went to the dr on Tuesday. An appointment that was scheduled before I dropped my basket. It was the perfect timing, if it had been a week earlier, I wouldn’t have been ready yet.

I was crying in the waiting room in my sunglasses, cause that’s not a giveaway in a “behavioral medicine” office. (I’m not upset, I’m just cool. (crazy cool))  I was asked how I was doing in the hall before we even rounded the corner to her office. I didn’t answer. Did I have too? I was wearing my sunglasses, she knew.

I told her I didn’t know where to start, and I didn’t. What was even important at that point? The full body tension, aches, pains, stomach issues? I abbreviated the physical and went for the mental.

I never had to say I didn’t want back on the Lexapro, she knew. She never suggested it. She listened and offered up ideas. I didn’t really care, as long as it wasn’t the same poison as before.  I let her tell me what to do, and why. I had no fight left.

She shared some information about her personal life, things that made me trust her. She is a daughter of a schizophrenic, had trouble with depression as a young adult trying to care for her ill mother and ultimately, it all drove her into this profession. She apologized for how bad it was going for me, and also divulged that she went though this herself, in the early 90′s and no one knew what it was. She was misdiagnosed with MS, and when it disappeared one day, she began to question everything.

It helped me, a lot. To know that she go it.

I went home with a rx for Prozac, to take along side my welbutrin.

2 days later? I’m still pretty moody, but I didn’t loose my temper once today, and the dizziness, nausea and brain zaps are completely gone.

Did I do the right thing? Yes, I spoke up when the regiment wasn’t working and asked for a change. It was awful to go thru it but had I not, and just slugged along, I’d just be suffering needlessly. In the process I found out about a vitamin deficiency, and well, learned the hard way (what I already knew but get to damn stubborn to admit) that I am a person who needs to be medicated. It’s that “simple” I need help. But it’s help that is available! There’s no cure for a screwy brain but there is help. 

I need help. I get help. I am the face of a mental illness and you know what, I’m learning to live with that. This is a part of who I am, and if I can’t own it, the drugs can’t save me. Only I can do that.

Tis the Season

I’ve loved the weekend of Thanksgiving as long as I can remember. As a kid, we would go to my Grandmas tiny house filled with food and love and (bickering) and it was so hot we always dressed in layers. The day after, we’d meet back at Grandmas and head to the mountains to cut down our tree. Oh, Washington, I miss your face. Saturday would be filled with turkey sandwiches and pie while dad sang the Statler Brothers Christmas album stringing lights on the tree.

I still love the weekend, of course. Its lack of family in a home that is full of love and big enough to hold all of the people crammed into Grandmas little house, we make do, the four of us. I cook, no short cuts, everything is homemade. I love a day in the kitchen. I always have to call mom at least once to remind me if I put dill in the deviled eggs or if I should tent the turkey. That helps a little. To be cooking “with” her. I see her rolling out dough for pies…..

We’ve been gone 12 years. Every year I get sad. I can’t help it. Everything has changed since we left. But in my heart, the pictures in my head, the memories are all beautiful. I miss being in that tiny, hot house. I always will.

Now I get to make these memories for my family, here. I have a hard raising them here, alone. No kids table, no running around with cousins, no memories of the time there were so many presents in the living room we had to put the coffee table in the entry. But I will do my best to pass on the magic. As long as it’s in my heart, I will work to fill their lives with it.

 

Comic Releif

We’ve lived in this home for 6 years. Every door locks the same way. Vertical is locked, horizontal, unlocked. Exterior doors and interior alike. 6 years.

 

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It was a sucky weekend in terms of sleep and alone time. Nate was running a fever on Friday so he went down easy but was up many times. If he had an Indian name it would be coitus interruptus. We were tired on Saturday but Nate was feeling better so that was good. Weekend re-start! After all, Saturday night was date night. We were going to see Argo (incredible!) and out to dinner. I planned my outfit, I was ready to get out!

It was a good night, but our meal wasn’t that great, and it was expensive which always pisses me off. If I’m going to spend what I would for a weeks worth of grocery’s on one meal, it had better rock my socks. So I was a little disappointed. We got home around 10:30 and Nate was up, the sitter said he would fall asleep but couldn’t stay down.

The night was a wash after that. I must have come and gone from his room 10 times before I fell asleep hard enough for him to climb in bed with me.  I woke around 5 and Mike was asleep in his clothes, candles lit, drinks poured. Another night gone.

Sunday was crabby, for all of us. None of us got more than a few hours of sleep, Ben included, though he typically sleeps through, he hadn’t. I was weepy all day long. Feeling defeated, not knowing what to do about this boy and his inability to sleep alone. I kept complaining, wondering how we got here. These kids came home from the hospital and went to their rooms, we didn’t co-sleep. We still “don’t”- but Nate has gotten good at the slither and I don’t always know he’s in my bed.

I couldn’t even bring myself to get dressed. I just sulked around and did some chores, exhausted and sad. Mike offered to do the grocery shopping so I made him a list and off he went. While he was gone Nate declared I was the worst mother ever for denying him computer time, I cried. Then I got busy.

Mike’s a slow shopper but I am a fast cleaner when I’m upset. I cleaned out the fridge and pantry, ran a load of dishes, some clothes, vacuumed the house, made beds and cleaned a bathroom before he got home. When he did I was laying face down, in my pj’s, on the bed. The kids were full of Hoorays when he arrived (jerks) and I just layed there. Taking a few deep breaths before I had to join the circus again.

They were all unloading the groceries from the car, in and out, in and out. And Ben, and his godforsaken door slamming had closed the door to the garage. I felt it slam, then I heard Mike, “oh, shit, Ben… Now I can’t get it open…..oh, no,  (feeling the house wiggle, over and over as he pulls trying to open the door) Mike calls to me. I come down.

All three of them are standing in front of the door, I look down at the knob, unlock it, open the door and fall to the floor snort laughing with tears running down both cheeks. THAT was exactly what I needed after a weekend like this.

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Sunday night was perfection! Both boys went down fast and slept ALL NIGHT LONG. I actually had to wake Nate at 8:30 for school. I feel human again and it will be a long time before I forget the time Mike couldn’t open the locked door. A very long time.

3 things

Friday Mike and I celebrated our 10th! It was great, we went out for an amazing meal and did some window shopping. It was lovely. I’ve gone on for years here, as many as I’ve been writing about how much I love this man. You know, but hot ham, I am so lucky to have someone in my life who I’m still crazy about and that respects me, and is an incredible father. And well, I just adore him.

Sunday July 1, I started eating Paleo. I couldn’t really believe I was going to do it, I had no real faith in myself. All I knew is I have been trying HARD for YEARS to drop this weight. Twice weekly personal training sessions with 2-3 additional workouts per week. A few stints on weight watchers, pills, potions, giving up this and that and writing down what I eat and you name it. I’ve plateaued. My body had just adjusted and so I increased my cardio, had more conversations about nutrition with my trainer and still, no change. I felt like the only thing left was Paleo. So, I stared. The first two days were the hardest, no diet coke or sugar had my body a bit pissed off. But today is day 8 and I feel great. It’s really not been very hard. I still have that desire for desert after dinner and I miss the flavor of somethings but after I eat, I feel satisfied, never uncomfortable. After just a week I don’t feel like food owns me. I just have something when I’m hungry and I know I’m eating the right things.  I lost exactly 3 lbs the first week, meaning, I’m not really anywhere yet but it’s a promising start.

If you don’t know what Paleo is, it’s hardcore and I say that because it’s a fact, and not because I think I’m hardcore, because I am so not.  You can’t eat much, really, Its sugar free, glutten free, dairy free, soy free, grain free, well, it’s easier to say what you can eat. Meat, veggies, fruit , healthy fats like coconut oil and avocados and some nuts. (no legumes ) Not a lot but it makes it so easy to KNOW what is okay, I’m not eating something and wondering if this is “good” or not. Like you do with a granola bar with a chocolate bottom and pretzels inside, you know?

I plan on keeping this up until I leave for my trip, I hope to keep up the 3 a week which would put me at 9 lbs for 3 weeks. And most likely turning it into a lifestyle because it just feels right to eat this way. I haven’t had a belly ache or heart burn or anything since I started. I never feel bloated, and I stared my period during this first week.  I feel healthy and if eating this way is also melting off the pounds then I’ll take it.

On Saturday night, at some point, I took of my rings. I don’t remember where, or when. I do this all the time, drop them all over, but I have a landing place for them in each room- a safe spot. A dish in the kitchen window, the tray on the ottoman, little places all over because I do it daily. But this time I can’t find them. Mike and I looked for a good hour last night and nothing. It doesn’t help that I don’t know which floor I was even on when I took them off… I’m so sick over this, I can’t even tell you. I have no idea where they are. I’m really afraid that Ben got ahold of them, we both stayed in bed for a while on Sunday after the kids were up, there’s no telling what a two year old would do or where he’d go with them. My finger is bare and my heart is heavy. I’ve got to find them.

 

Feet dragging

A theme has come over my life in the past two or so years. “I’m too tired to go on.” I say it all day, every time I have a chance to sit down and 1000 times per phone call with my sister and every damn time I have to unload the dishwasher. And honestly, every time I say it I mean it. I’m tired.

I’m so physically tired that my body is heavy and my feet are wearing concrete shoes, my knees creak with each step. I have sore muscles in my back from poor posture because being this tired makes me slouchy. I have a ton of headaches, I just assume they are related. I workout hard, harder than I’ve ever worked out in my life which is the only thing that really gets me through my day but without fail, three hours after that workout I could fall asleep behind the wheel of my car. But without the workout, I’d never make it.

I’m mentally out of it. My mind doesn’t so much wander it just tunes out. I have a hard time concentrating. Cooking takes forever, my to-do lists are often half of a list because I just start to space and I’ve had the same book on my night-table for two months. This works well for gym time, I just move without thought until I can’t move any longer.

The problem is so simple, get more sleep. The solution seems obvious. The kids wake randomly at night and get up early, anywhere from 4:30 am on. I pull them in my bed, grab two eggos, two sippys, turn on the tv and sleep for a few minutes at a time until the sun is up. I go to sleep around 11:30, the same time I’ve gone to bed for years. Sometimes a little earlier but that’s just bedtime, it’s when my body finally stops me in my tracks. I just don’t get enough sleep.

I love sleep. I miss it. I miss it so much. And as out of balance life seems without it, I’d stay up forever for these kids.

 

Damn Den

I took over twitter today beggging for help with this stupid room. It has perfect bones for a home office. Two huge windows and plenty of space for the crap I have in it and yet, I hate it. Now I love a room with a mix of furnishings but in this case, it’s part of what is wrong with it. But, we are traveling a ton this year (yay) so a budget for new pieces is out. I could paint or get a new rug (lets pretend that I didnt buy the one in the photos today) (I did)

I love the chair in the corner, I need to sew its cover (the fabric is just draped over it right now) it needs to be stained or painted. Which and what color?

I love the bookcase, I stained that mo’fo in the dead of winter until my fingers fell off on a 3×3 front porch of the first place Mike and I ever lived. It stays but I’m not aginst a makeover.

The desk was a “hey, we need a desk, this one is pertty fug but it’s damn near free, lets get it” and I never liked it but it serves well.

The rug was grabbed today becuase the chair is stripping the finish off the floor under the desk, it’s a little too small and I just grabbed the least offesive pattern. It is temporary.

Everything on the walls stay. This is Mike’s office, I do use it durning the day a lot but it’s his. So, the diplomas and baseball stuff stay. This doesnt mean I couldnt add to it…

So- here are the pictures. Take a peak and HIT ME! I am stupmed!

Back in the saddle

This space has been giving me fits recently. So much to share and I never take the time to do it.

Life is busy with two kids, not news I know, but it is. It is so easy to just keep putting one foot in front of the other and space out in the down time, which, let me tell you, I’ve mastered. But I miss sharing the little things. Silly things with the kids or the fun we’ve had. When I don’t write I live in a bit of a bubble. At times that’s what I need and at others it’s the opposite. Learning that I have regular old depression and anxiety and NOT just ppd (which I did, both times which made my regular depression escalate) and working with my therapists I’ve learned when it’s okay to keep to myself and when it is hurting my progress. Not that I want this space to be all about the crazy because I don’t, but at times it will be here.  It probably would have been fun/funny to write a few weeks ago when I had a med change and was totally going nuts in a way that I could laugh at, I knew what was going on but I had to be sure it wasn’t just pms..it wasnt!

So one of my resolutions for 2012 is to write more.  And to share more. I don’t want to tell you about every new house plant but I do want to share the stuff that makes me happy and I’ve stopped doing that. So there will be more about what I’m doing around the house, lots about the size of my thighs, as I SWEAR to myself this will be the year I see my pre-baby weight.  And really, I just hope to bring this blog back to what it was. It’s been a long time.

I’m working on my word and my list! And I’m hoping for a great 2012.

13 Things

So, The Blathering! I’ve been sad for years about never being able to go. The first year was before Style Lush and I just didn’t really know anyone or feel confident to just jump on in so I stayed home and was a sad panda. Last year I was pissed, it was in Chicago, I could have driven, but, I was too pregnant. This year I didn’t think I could go, I mean, I actually own a money tree, it’s 5 foot 3 4 inches tall, son of a bitch has yet to produce. But turns out my husband understands that time away is good for all of us.  So, 13 things you should know about me by Friday.

1. I’m a dork, as in, I get too excited and then try to contain myself and not look like a dork and that pretty much backfires and I look like a fool. I’ve been told it’s cute, I think people lie to me.

2. I’m an I love you drunk. This is important as I plan on drinking my weight two days in a row. This is good though, I will be more relaxed and less of the dork but with more touching.

3. My attention to detail is sort of ridiculous. I will notice everything you’re wearing and if I like it and look, lets assume I have  drink im my hand I will probably be fondling your bracelet or asking about what color of eyeshadow you’re wearing. I promise I wont ask to try on your shoes, though , lets face it. I want to. Please, don’t let this make you uncomfortable.

4. I already like you. So don’t be nervous around me. It’s true, I read your questioner and you’re rad. Take comfort in the fact that I’m a little freaked out, too.

5. I have some issues with mental health and if you already read my blog you know but if you’re here in advance of this weekend, I was hospitalized in April for ppd and anxiety. It’s okay to talk to me about it if you want. I won’t bring it up but you can if you have questions.

6. I’m a oversharer (see #5) Hoo-boy, if childbirth or breastfeeding comes up….you might want to walk away.

7. I don’t watch much TV. I want to, I love TV but most nights by the time the house is clean and the kids are down I’m shot. I wish we could talk about (insert your fav show here) but, I’m not that girl. I do watch every episode of The Soup and The kardashians, so feel free to judge just how I allocate my free time!

8. I talk about how much I work out, tweet about boot camp and my personal trainer (and his smoking hot bounce-a-quarter-off-me-please ass) But I don’t (yet) LOOK like I workout this much. It’s a process…..I’m still rather bottom heavy.

9. I’m really concerned about how my name tag may ruin the vibe of my outfit.

10. Sometimes I drink too much caffeine and my forehead and eyes really get the message. I look very surprised when this happens. Like I had reverse Botox and cannot relax… yeah, that’s just my face.

11. I live in Ohio, have been married for 9.5 years and have two kids. Nate 4, Ben 1. I’m going to miss the crap out of them.

12. I cannot wait to sleep in a bed all by myself. For TWO nights! Really, I’m looking very forward to this.

13. I used to have a bulldog name Bruno and he had a voice and likes and dislikes. Like, black t-shirts, cowboys and sharks. Dislikes, the UPS truck and chainsaws. He lived to be 10, this was “a thing”… so there’s a little peek into my crazy head.

Day after tomorrow! DAY AFTER TOMORROW!  I think I need a margarita primer….

Stronger

It’s hard to come back after that. I’ve been wondering what to say and how to move on. Do I address it right away or just jump back in and talk about life as if nothing happened.

I don’t know but so much time has passed it’s time to write again.

I’ve been in therapy for a while now and had a few changes to my daily meds in both type and dosages. I’ve got a fantastic team, one that I trust and who I believe care about me. Going to the doctor all the time is getting old though. I will tell you that much. 

Life is good. I am feeling worlds better.

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Ben turned 1 on the 12th. Some how, some way, a year has already passed since his shocking arrival. I cannot wrap my head around it but it is true. He is turning into such an easy going and cool kid. Happy to scoot around on the floor and play with his brother or on his own. All smiles, all the time. He’s tough, too.  Nate can be a little hard on him, shoving him out-of-the-way or snatching a toy from him. He will bump his head or fall down, he almost never cries.  This  is so welcome considering barnacle Ben cried for the first 7 months of his life if he wasnt being held. He is just pure sunshine. I cannot believe how fast this year flew by. It’s sad, in a way, I’m running out of babies.

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We have a very busy summer lined up. One trip is already behind us and we have many more. Next week the kids and I are going to Connecticut, I’m going to NYC to meet Mike while he’s there for work. We are going home (Seattle) for two weeks and then we have a long weekend at the beach. And finally, we have company coming for memorial Day weekend.  It will be over so fast but I am going to suck up every second of family time I can. 

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One thing that I’m learning in therapy is to stop waiting for life to be perfect to start living and enjoy it. I’ve eased up a lot in order to try to make this happen. It’s hard but it’s getting better. I have a worksheet I fill  out every day to access my depression and anxiety and it really helps. I look at what held up my progress, it keeps me thinking. This is good but it’s work. Looking back and deciding if I made the right choices that day, what could I have done better and being proud of myself when things go well, rather than looking for what wasnt perfect. It’s helping me to stop in the moment and make better choices. It’s all very simple but when you’re as far gone as I was you have to learn how to live again. The easy thing is to stay in bed and do nothing. But it doesn’t help you grow or heal. I’m done with being stagnant. Done.

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I’m still nursing the boy. I was told by every doctor, nurse and therapist to stop, immediately. Every single person told me to quit. Nursing and depression are linked, did you know? I wouldn’t do it. I’m getting better anyway. So THERE! I don’t know how much longer I will go on. Some feedings Ben is as content as a tiny baby, others he’s rolling around and wants down.  I’m not quite done yet but I can tell he isn’t either. I’m not going to over think it the way I did with Nate. I’ve cut back to 3 times per day with an occasional night feeding here and there. It’s a little emotional, honestly. My last baby. I love nursing, once you get the hang of it you’re basically just snuggling with your baby. I’m going to be very sad to let it go. But when Ben’s ready I will stop. I know from experience with Nate, there will be more than enough snuggled on the other side.

Right now- I’m living. I’m loving my life again. My kids, my husband. And myself. It’s been a hellish journery but I’m getting there.