Category: Depression

Tell Me Why You Cry

Ok, I’ll tell you.

Eight years ago, I inherited my grandmother’s Christmas cactus. It has moved from New York to Kentucky, and then on to Alabama. This sucker is pretty darn big. And glorious.

The first bloom, in my care.

A few weeks ago, Justin pointed out that it was looking……not great. It was wilty and sad. I shrugged it off–we’ve been through hard times before, and there have been some segment losses along the way, but it always turns out ok in the end.

Except, it wasn’t turning around.

I thought maybe it needed a change of scenery. It has lived by our front door for over a year. Maybe it wanted more direct sunlight??

Entryway home – Before things got bad.

I swapped it out with another Christmas cactus, one I got 2 years ago on sale after Christmas. That one was happy; it was budding! Maybe this old broad just needed a vacation.

It simply wasn’t perking up. This morning I climbed up on a chair to see what was going on in there. I gently picked up one limb, and…it broke off! Not only did it break off, but it was slimy and smelled. What is going on here!?!? I picked up another limb, and this one oozed…and then fell off. I killed it!!!

Not only did I kill it, but what’s remaining looks like Danny DeVito!

See the DeVito resemblance?!

By this point, I was panicking and crying. This is so ridiculous, why am I crying over a damn plant!?

Before you start thinking these tears are because I had some amazing relationship with my grandmother, let me just stop you there. We were not close. In fact, my Mom was one of the Disowned Children. I didn’t see my grandparents from before my teen years, until I was in my 20s. I really just loved the plant, and I loved the idea that it was almost as old as me. The fact that it had been my grandmother’s was more just a neat plant history tidbit. Christmas Cactus: The Early Years.

Now it has root rot, and this is so 2020, it hurts.

To top it all off, as I was driving to pick up supplies, in an attempt to revive the damn thing, I passed Xander’s school and instantly remembered that today was picture day! And I didn’t bring him at 8:45 for pictures!!!

So now I have a dying cactus that looks strangely like Danny DeVito, a son who who’t get school photos this year, and I found out I didn’t get the job I applied for two years ago!

Wait. Stop. What?!

I received two email notifications this morning, about an aquatics job I applied for in 2018. One informed me that I am unqualified and ineligible; the next informed me that I am qualified…and ineligible. I honestly don’t know what is happening at this point. Did someone wake up this morning and decide it was time to clean out their inbox, because believe me, I figured out some time in the beginning of 2019 that I obviously didn’t get the job. So, that’s for the weird emails with conflicting informations. I wouldn’t have taken the job anyway.

Then, after picking up the supplies I need to hopefully salvage some portion of this poor, old ass cactus, I went grocery shopping at Aldi…where multiple people were buying mass quantities of eggs. Fifteen dozen, 20 dozen, and thirty-four dozen!!! Is there some crazy Thanksgiving tradition that I’m unaware of, that requires hundreds of eggs (to be fair, the woman who announced, “I have 34” dozen eggs also had about 15 jugs of hand soap. So maybe she’s just doomsday prepping)?!

So now I’ve killed my ancient cactus, missed picture day, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing with hundreds of eggs, I didn’t get a job I applied for two years ago. Oh! And I dressed for cold weather (since it’s been in the low 60s all week, and it was 80º! I was wandering around in the world, in a fleece turtleneck thing, that I couldn’t take off, because I decided it would be smart to wear a tank top that should only ever be worn as an undershirt. Which I was. But it left me with zero options for removing layers.

This day! This year!

A happier time.

Enjoy my glorious Christmas cactus, back when it was beautiful. I’m going to try to save what’s left of it.

New Year, New Me

Just kidding. It’s more like New Year, Same Me…hopefully a better version of me? I’m trying.

In all honesty, in 37 years I have yet to remake myself in any way. I went away to college and told myself I would be outgoing. I transferred and told myself this time I would be outgoing. By my 20s I realized that was not really ever anything I would be, let alone anything I actually wanted. I embraced the introvert in me.

Organization is another issue for me. I’m a disaster. I’m a tornado in a trailer park. I really do try. Every move, every season, I try to be better at not being a train wreck. Again, this is easier said than done. Lists are made, and lost. I try every approach imaginable, and I always seem to find myself back in the land of Overwhelmed.

I can accept that I will never be the person whose home is something out of a magazine, but this year I really, really would like to be able to get it together and keep it that way. Fewer naps; more organizing.

Here’s hoping my depression and ADD are willing to cooperate. Because the excuse, “I couldn’t do the dishes–it was raining,” doesn’t always go over well…seeing as though dishes (and laundry, and most other cleaning tasks) take place indoors.

Happy 2020!

I’m Judging Me

Anxiety is super judgy. It makes everyone stare at you, watching your every move.

Except, none of it is real and it’s all in your head. Your brain is the only judgy bitch in the room.

Today was Thanksgiving Lunch at school. Every year I have to force myself to go, and not be a total freak. Once again, Justin was unable to join me today, so I found myself going it alone. Which makes it worse. I can handle public situations like a boss when I have someone to hide behind.

Even though I fought with myself all morning (I don’t have to go. They’ll never notice), I sucked it up and went. Arriving early, just like they suggested. I signed in, grabbed my visitor sticker, paid, and when they called first grade parents, in I went.

I sat in a room full of strangers, proud of the face that I was doing it, and even though I hated it, I was here. The kids started pouring in. And then I realized what a terrible mistake I had made: Xander is in second grade. I was so busy making sure I survived this trauma, that I panicked and jumped the gun on actually going in.

While the first grade parents were locating their children, and the kindergarten parents were saying goodbye to theirs, I snuck out the door with my to-go container full of Thanksgiving Lunch. I hid the evidence of my failure in my car, took a deep breath and tried again.

Did I survive? Yes. Did I actually eat lunch with my kids? Well, no. But I was there.

As I headed out to my car at the end of it all, my brain announced, “good job–I knew you could do it.” Oh shut up, you judgy bitch. Where were you 2 hours ago when I needed the pep talk!?

And Out Come the Wolves

Or at least the wolf spiders.

Kentucky has taught me to appreciate the giant monsters.

This evening, I spent close to an hour mowing my backyard, which, if you’ve SEEN my back yard, you would know that seems excessive for such a small space.The problem is, I haven’t been good about keeping up with it. This last month of coming off my antidepressants has been awful. It made me remember why it is I’m on them in the first place. I’ve been mean, irrational, occasionally paranoid, and a slew of other fun emotions. If I yelled at you, I’m sorry. If I cried uncontrollably in front of you, thank you for not running away–or thank you for understanding when I ran away.

If you have never dealt with a chemically imbalanced brain, it’s hard to describe the feeling of being absolutely out of control. My brain has been misfiring, pulling and pushing me in 30 directions all at once, all while a voice is yelling “you’re doing it wrong! You’re failing!” Every ounce of my strength was thrown full-force into my job, but of course with my brain not functioning properly, the mistakes have just been piling up. Again, with the neon sign flashing failure above my head. Or maybe in my head. It’s been an electrical storm of emotions, along with the deafening skepticism.

Thankfully, as of Monday, my blood pressure is back to normal–it turns out that the same medication that brought me mental stability was also trying to give me a heart attack. Honestly, after this last 2 week, I still think my mental health is more important. I would rather succumb to a heart attack than I would deal with my inner voice kicking my while I’m down.

Like the roller coaster you didn’t want to get on in the first place, you spent that entire time thinking this is awful! Make it stop! And when it’s over you vow to never do it again.I will never do that again.But back to the spiders!

In my state of meh, my lawn had become a wild jungle of almost knee-high grass. Perfect for wolf spiders–perfect for a tiny world full of insects, really. But, oh my gosh, every pass of the lawn mower, 5-15 spiders with bodies the size of quarters ran in panic! Save yourselves! She’s a functioning human being again and she’s catching up on life!!!

When we first moved to Kentucky, I remember sending a picture to my best friend (a Kentucky girl), and asking “what the heck is this!?!?” As a non-lover of spiders, Justin was called upon often in our first year–“there’s a spider in the bathroom staring at me! And I really have to pee! Please come kill it! And then he deployed and I was left to deal with them. I had to continually remind myself, they’re the good spiders. They’re the reason we have no black widows. They don’t mean to be terrifying. Now, I have a respect for them. They don’t mean to be giant, 8-legged creatures who prefer life in the tall grass of my backyard.

And now I’m sitting here realizing that my depression is a lot like the wolf spiders. I have spent my life hating it–why can’t my brain just function properly? But this is me. And I don’t mean to come in a mentally unstable package. But, at least I am back on the path to sanity.

Don’t Tell Me to Stop

So, my blood pressure has been astronomically high since…honestly, I can’t pinpoint the exact moment, but back in February, my dentist pointed out how dangerously high it was. I take nothing seriously, so at the time I said “ok. I’ll look into it.” A few weeks later when I went back to get a few broken fillings replaced (nighttime Sam has spent over 3 decades sabotaging her smile with grinding), the dentist informed me that my blood pressure was so high, she would only do work on me if I got nitrous. Which was strangely like being drunk at the dentist (honestly, I slept through my dental work). She once again asked me to please see my doctor.

Meh.

Well, here we are, 4 months later. It’s still high in the sky, and I still rarely take these things seriously. Until my doctor last week (during a completely unrelated appointment) said, “I want you to stop taking your antidepressants.”

Umexcusemewhat??

Deer in headlights.

“How long have you been on the Effexor?”

“Um…4 years?”

“And how long has your blood pressure been high?”

“Um…”

“4 years?”

After coming out of the haze of the initial shock, I agreed that I have felt lately like it wasn’t working. But I had mostly chalked that up to other issues: my husband is on the other side of the Earth, I am a year into the full time working mom gig, 9 months into my single working mom stint. I’m a serious introvert, with a lack of a local support system. I am terrible at multi-tasking. And I inherited my Mom’s overactive tear glands.

But really, I get too overwhelmed. And if I cry any more, I might dry out and turn to dust.

I guess. I don’t know. Just when I start thinking, “maybe this week I won’t cry at work,” I have a nervous breakdown in a parking lot over a dented bumper.

So, in order to address my super-high-for-unknown-reasons blood pressure, I have to be unmedicated. For the first time since…shortly after Xander was born. That, to me, is scarier than any blood pressure, heart issue, scare.

I have dealt with/suffered from depression since I was……9? 5? Always? It’s hard to say. Meds have come and gone, and none will ever make me “normal,” but they sure do keep me from shattering plates on the floor because Justin paused too long before telling me what he wanted to drink with dinner (can we talk about the hero of this story for a minute? Because the partners of us mentally unstable squirrels are by far the most under-appreciated at times. And mine has put up with a lot in 13 years, and still sticks around to help keep me sane).

Also, the unmedicated, barely-functioning depression I suffered through while pregnant with Shea (while Justin was deployed), springs to mind. I could be a non-functioning blob before kids–that is not really a state I can enter into while having to be responsible for tiny humans.

I am officially one week into the process of slowly cutting back (so as not to be launched into the head pounding, nightmare-inducing, vertigo causing, withdrawal that this particular medication is known to cause…in me…after one missed dose). I’m still overwhelmed. I still cried today at work (literally because I was told I had to call the help-desk to sort out an employee’s timecard. And then I couldn’t find the number. And then my phone cut out. And then…tears). My blood pressure is still high.

Deep. Breath.

Stay positive.

You can do this.