Dun duh...

...duuuuuuuuuuuuuun!

Now that I have your attention, I'd like to remind you that it's day four.

Yesterday was a good day. I got a lot done, I felt accomplished, and I tried to keep it going.

So far today, I'm nonplussed. I woke up tired. Everything my daughter says to me is irritating. The stresses of every day life are sneaking back in.

In other words, the newness has worn off.

Don't get me wrong, I still have hope for the future, but the reality that even "normal" people have bad days is lurking. I don't want to have bad days, but I want to have good days.

As my wise husband says (I totally need a sarcasm font), "You can't have good days if you don't have bad days." The philosopher of my life.

Just typing that makes me want to smack him upside the head. Not even because his little quips of wisdom come at annoying times, but mostly because he's right. And now I want to smack myself upside the head because I just typed an admission of my husband actually being right.

Anyhow, he's right. (Damn it. I said it again.)

Today is a down day. It's alright. I mean I'm four days into a medication that probably takes a month to build up in my system to proper levels.

The mission next week is to find a therapist. I need to find someone to help me cope with all of the stress of every day life. Someone who can help me cope with the kids, money, and life without shutting down the minute I feel overwhelmed.

We've got to travel tonight for baseball. Generally, the only reason I leave my house; a kids' activity.

It's alright. I'll do it, like I always do. Hopefully, I can get a nap today and maybe find a little more energy.

Keep trudging forward. Life looms around every corner. I want to live it.

~Kim

I'm either having...

...a really good day (yes I have those without meds) or I'm feeling the energy my doc told me I might see.

Either way, I'll take it!

The funny thing is, I've got nothing to do today. Really, I don't have to leave the house today if I don't want to.

I really don't want to and that's okay.

It's day 3.

I'm proud of myself for one thing...I have remembered to take it every morning!

My depression is so severe that it has affected my short term memory. I can't remember shit. I tell the same stories over and over to the same people. Someone will tell me something and five minutes later I will ask them about the subject like it's a completely new development. I will tell someone that I'm going to do something and then completely forget about it if I don't put it in my calendar immediately (which I constantly forget to do!).

I want to feel "normal" (good grief I hate that word, but in this case it seems necessary) so badly that I've strategically placed my pill bottle so it's the first thing that I see in the morning.

Here's a small example of how I'm feeling today as opposed to four days ago.

I went grocery shopping. I bought a cantaloupe. It sat on my counter for four days. Every time I was asked to cut it I gave the cursory, "In a minute" response. Surprise. Surprise. It never got cut.

I woke up this morning. I was asked to cut the cantaloupe (and the watermelon that had been sitting there since Saturday (for those keeping score, today is Thursday) and I gave the cursory "In a minute" response. Surprise! I got off my butt a few minutes later and cut them both.

Some people will look at this and see the ridiculousness in the fact that I couldn't even manage to cut up fruit. Others will look at this for what it is: a small victory in the grand scheme of things.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring! Maybe I'll wash, dry, fold, and put away a load of laundry! The possibilities are endless.

Today, I cut the fruit!

~Kim

So, Now It's...

...day two.

No new news to report.

I'm not surprised, I didn't expect there to be anything.

I did have to explain to someone close to me that changes weren't going to happen overnight. When I was asked, "Do you feel any different?" I had to concede that I did not indeed feel different.

I wanted to feel different, but I knew I wouldn't. Still, saying it out loud felt like defeat. It bled into my hope.

I've spent most of my life being a realist. Okay, that's a lie. I spent most of my life being a dreamer. I dreamt of the things I could do or could be if I could just make myself do this, that, or the other. If I could just make myself get out of bed with a smile on my face and set goals, I could accomplish anything.

I believed, for a couple of decades, that I could beat depression if I set my mind to it. You know, the mind that's sabotaging me at every turn.

The mind that's giving me these wonderful ideas that I could be a successful writer. The mind that says, "You could be a great baker! You should open a bakery!" The mind that says, "You absolutely SHOULD do this, because you'd be a huge success! You're special!"

The mind that the next day says, "Are you sure you even want to get out of bed?" The mind that tells me that showers are too much work. The mind that tells me that it's just too much work to be successful, eat a cookie.

My mind knows that I should be taking the dog for walks every day, but won't allow me to get my ass off the couch because it takes effort. The mind that deals with stress and tasks by being overwhelmed and doing nothing.

I worried for a long time that getting treatment for depression would take away my creativity. It is almost as if I am addicted to depression. Much in the same way an alcoholic says, "I can quit any time I want to," yet can't refuse a beer. The way an addict's body wants something; drugs, alcohol, or even food, my body is so used to being depressed that it is afraid to be anything else.

I clinging to hope. Hope is all I have.

~Kim

Today is the day..

...that my life begins (hopefully) a transformation.

I've battled depression for as long as I can remember. Literally, I cannot remember a time where there wasn't something at least nagging at the back of my mind, even on the "good days".

Today, I popped my first pill.

After my doctor's visit yesterday (the first one in at least 20 years that didn't have to do with childbirth), I went to pick up my prescription.

Now, for me, I've never had any thoughts of suicide or how my family would be better without me.

For me, my kids were my life line. They were the reason that I kept going. I knew they needed me, even if it was a shitty version of me.

I'm ever so thankful for them. They saved my life 100 times over, I'm sure.

So, this first day, I have hope. I have hope that getting out of bed every day won't always be a chore. I have hope that somewhere down the line, I can get into the shower every day. I have hope that I can find my social personality again. I have hope that I can learn to handle stress and find coping mechanisms that are healthier. I have hope that the act of function is no longer mentally painful every day. Hope that I can control my emotions instead of letting them control me.

I know I won't see a difference for a while. As my doc said "It's not a miracle pill," but it's given me something I haven't had in a long time.

Hope.

Depression takes on many forms. There are some people who will read this that know me and will be shocked.

"I had no idea! You always seem so happy and confident!"

It's like anything else in life, you learn when you need to hide it and when it's okay to let it out.

I'm going to try to post for the next 30 days about how I'm feeling and thinking. I want to see my own transformation, the good and the bad, and I'm hoping these posts will reach someone who needs to see them.

Here's to hope!

~Kim