Tag: Depression

Sometimes I’m sad. And that’s ok.

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.

Marry Your Best Friend

I met Justin in October of 2002. He was quiet. And…he was just really quiet.

I dated his friend, which is how I came to meet Justin. Proof that the events in your life lead you to where you are meant to be. Justin was getting ready to leave for the Army. For 4 months, Justin was always there.

Then he left for the Army. My unhealthy relationship with his friend ended. Through it all, the thing that upset me the most was that I was losing my tie with Justin.

Then the summer of 2003 rolled around, and was a rough one for me. By the end of it, I had spiraled into a deep depression, and as much as I told myself I was strong and single, I was anything but. My ex reappeared in my life, and we entered right back into our unhealthy on again/off again nonsense.

The best thing that came from me falling back into bad habits: one night at a party, Justin called one of his buddies. When his phone was about to die, he gave Justin my number. Finally, my friendship with Justin was no longer dependent on my being in an unhealthy relationship.

Thus began the most epic friendship of all time. We talked on the phone every night, for 2 hours or more. You might not think much of it, but this was a pretty big deal, because I hate talking on the phone. The greatest thing to ever happen in my life is text messaging.

I loved him. We only said it to each other a million times a day. He would tell me I should just marry him, and I would tell him he was being silly–we never even dated!

I would even talk to his friends, and they would say things like, “why won’t you marry Justin!?” Giggles giggles giggles. Oh my goodness, I can’t marry him! He’s my best friend!

When Justin left for Ranger School, we talked for hours the night before he left. We said our good nights and hung up; he called me back and said, “I just wanted to tell you I love you.” Aww Justin, I love you too! I was getting my hair dyed at the time, and the girl who was doing it said, “oh my gosh Sam! That was so sweet!” Yeah yeah. He’s the sweetest.

For the next 9 weeks, he wrote to me every day. If you are unaware of Ranger School, the sleep deprivation is insane. There were letters that would start out legible and then …______ “I fell asleep writing to you last night.” Those letters are a window into sleep deprivation-induced insanity. The anticipation of receiving those letters was intense! At one point he said an instructor actually told him no guy ever wrote as many letters as he did.

I ended up in a very short-lived, weird relationship with a guy who was…gross. Low point. When Justin called me on his graduation day, and I had to tell him I was kind of with someone, I felt like I was cheating on him. It was so hard to tell him.

But Justin was coming home on leave! And in the summer of 2004, I spent every free moment with him. If I wasn’t at work or at school, I was with Justin. We drove up to Maine, and went to his family reunion. His cousin got crazy drunk and asked us why we weren’t dating. Um, because! Justin is my best friend! Do you know what happens when you date someone?! You break up! And then you never speak to each other again!

Around the time that Justin headed back to Fort Benning, I got a text from him: it was too hard to just be friends. He loved me, but he couldn’t do it anymore. I read it to my best girl friend, Tanya. “Sam, you have to kiss him.” That sounds like a terrifying idea. I was not even a little bit ready to lose my best friend, but honestly at this point, it looked like I was on the verge of losing him anyway.

He was not true to his word, and we got right back into talking for hours every night. I would fall asleep on the phone. He would fall asleep on the phone. Justin starting asking me to marry him once more, and once again, I started giggling at the idea. Oh Justin, you’re so silly.

In the Fall of 2004, Justin said, “you’re never going to come visit me,” which I instantly took as a challenge. I booked my flight–I would fly to Georgia, drive back to New York with Justin. And then 2 weeks later, I would drive back to Georgia, and then eventually fly home. And once again, Tanya said, “you have to kiss him.”

But–

“If you never kiss him, you’ll never know if this could be more.” She was always right, and always offered the best advice.

Just a couple of kids in love.

So, I kissed him. And by March, I was asking him to marry me. I flew down to visit in April, and then in May he flew me down to be his date to a military ball–where I had a full on panic attack moments before he was supposed to be recognized for winning Ranger of the Quarter, or Superhero of the Century–I can’t remember which. Either way, he stayed with me while I unrealistically panicked over nothing.

When I got back to New York, I called him: “let’s get married when you’re home on leave.” He said sure (because “yes” is not in Justin’s vocabulary).

With the help of Tanya, I planned everything. And kept it a secret from everyone. Don’t even ask me why we were so set on eloping and telling no one–looking back, I’m sure we both had our reasons, but I’m sure they were all silly.

The morning of my baby sister’s high school graduation, Tanya came and picked up Justin and I. We were going out to breakfast with her, before she moved to Vegas: is what we told everyone. Really, we were driving 45 minutes away to get married in a city where no one knew our parents.

I love the story of us. I got to marry my best friend. Everyone should. Marry someone who wants to be with you every day. Marry someone who puts you before sleep. Marry someone who will call you back just to tell you he loves you. Marry your best friend.

I’m Sam Steeves, and I Speak for the Bees

…except sweat bees. They are the douchebags of the bee community.

An entire bee community, plagued by little guy syndrome.

I’m trying to be productive on my Mostly Day Off. I finally finished mowing my lawn, since my previous attempt was rained out, and prior to that, it had been…ok, so maybe some of it was knee high.

It happens.

In Kentucky.

Where it rained for a week straight. And I work too much. And my whole Coming Off Antidepressants has lead to a lot of couch slothing.

But yeah, it happens.

Besides, Justin isn’t here to judge me, so I can do what I want!

I mean…until housing leaves a note on my door that my back yard is not zoned as a Natural Zone, and I need to get my crappy together and mow that jungle.

I should get a job with the housing office–I could really bring a new voice to their “friendly reminders.”

Ok, so I googled it. And they don’t mean to be assholes.

Sorry sweat bee. I didn’t mean to scare you into stinging me when I squatted down and accidentally trapped you between my thigh and calf. It was an honest mistake.

In their defense, I’m a very sweaty girl. I’d probably hang out on me too, if I was attracted to sweat.

I’m irresistible.

To bees.

I’m irresistible to sweat bees. Get back to pollinating. I won’t squish any of your friends.

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.

When in Doubt, Cry it Out

I’ve been having a rough week. There is no real cause, other than depression is sometimes a rollercoaster of awesome emotions. I have found myself in tears daily.

Not just in tears, but crying as my boss talked to me.

Did I screw up? Yes. Was I in trouble? No. Was I crying because of the talk(s)? NO!

He took it like a champ. “Well now, don’t cry about it.”

“It isn’t that!” And then came straight sobbing. Which always makes me hold my breath, in a sorry attempt to stop it. Which, let’s be honest, only makes it worse.

That was Monday.

Tuesday, different talk, more tears.

I locked myself in the bathroom and had a good long sob. Pity party for one.

I thought I was good. I thought I had it under control.

Five minutes later, I was hiding in the locker room, sobbing once more. There comes a point when you realize you just have to give in and allow yourself to not be ok.

I honestly love my job, but sometimes I have regrets: I am not the type of person who can do it all. Single working moms are real life super heroes, and this past few days have been another chunk of time where I question my though process: what made me think I could go from being a Stay At Home Mom whose husband was here, to being a Full Time Working Mom whose husband was on the other side of the globe!?

My morning started off no better. This is the point in the story where I also explain that my blood pressure has been astronomically high lately. While I was making breakfasts and lunches and FaceTiming Justin, our children were going to war, simply because Shea likes to torment her little brother, and Xander likes to hold a grudge and retaliate. Justin gets to calmly sit and eat his dinner, while I try to keep this insanity in check.

Luckily for my boss, I got my daily dose of crying out of the way before he came in this morning. Honestly though, when I pulled in and saw he wasn’t there, I could hear him saying, “I just don’t think I can handle another day of Sam cryin’!” And I finally think I got all of it out of my system.

Until the next breakdown. Because depression doesn’t play by any set of rules. Depression is just that uninvited guest that shows up and eats all your ice cream, and doesn’t help you do dishes. What a jerk.