You've GOT To Be...

...kidding me!

So, I'm sitting here on my couch, surveying my (modest) kingdom (why the hell is it called kingdom anyhow? Everyone knows the queen rules it all!) and I notice something.

At first, I thought it was a cobweb...I mean, with my cleaning style it's completely plausible. Then I looked closer.

Nope. Not a cobweb.

My kids have slammed the front door so much they've actually separated the paint from the wall.

No. Really. They have!

I'm constantly saying, "Don't slam the door!" Apparently, it's not working.

They're very literally breaking my house apart piece by piece.

I wonder if locking them in the house for a week will get my point across...Or make me need a drink or twelve.

~Kim

Are You As Tired...

...of this as I am?

It's day five. It's so funny, I keep expecting to just wake up one morning and feel right. Now, the intellectual side of me knows this is bull shit and it doesn't work like that, but the dreamer side of me has an image of how I want things to go.

I'm currently listening to Rose Madder by Stephen King on Audible. (Stop it! I can hear you!) It's really interesting because I'm really identifying with Rose's inner dialogue. She has a voice she calls "Practical-Sensible" and I have that voice too. She has it because she's fleeing from an abusive marriage. I have the same voice, only mine keeps me grounded.

Being grounded is a hard thing for me. I have a tendency to build lofty goals (only to fail usually). My creative mind, the same one I use to write, likes to build my ego up, then "Practical-Sensible" shows up and grapples me back down to earth. Usually, within a few days, and sometimes even immediately.

"Practical-Sensible" reminds me of all the research that I have done on depression, depression medications, therapy, and recovery. She reminds me that there is no miracle cure. She reminds me that depression isn't something I can control. She also reminds me that if I don't find a therapist, the best drugs on Earth can't help me. She reminds me that recovery takes time, energy, and change.

On occasion, I've been known to stifle her, but I'm coming to the realization that I can't.

Well, I shouldn't.

If I didn't have that "Practical-Sensible" voice in my head, my kids would be introverts, wallowing with me in my depression. That voice came into existence when I needed to pick myself by the boot straps (as so many people have told me over the years) for my kids. When I needed to make doctors' appointments, when I needed to advocate for my special needs kid, when I had to wake up every morning and drag myself out of bed and take the kids to school, I needed her to keep me grounded then and she continues to keep me grounded now.

So, I guess I should thank Stephen King for giving an identity for one of the voices in my head that has helped me function.

Who knew a prolific author of horror novels was such a scholar of the human condition?

~Kim

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

I Really Don't...

fit in anywhere.

Really, I don't.

First off, hello again! It's been a while. Trying to do anything right now is a challenge, an uphill battle. Today, though, I'm winning, so here I am.

I thought about this a lot recently. I don't fit anywhere. I'm a 40 something mom with three kids. One just decided to up and become an adult on me this past February, the second decided it was legal driving age for him just today, and the third...Holy shit...the third is going to be the one who puts me in an early grave. The pre-teen hell she's putting me through better not be a precursor of things to come!

If you're doing the math, that's quite a spread between my kids. I fall between the older moms of kids my oldest's age and the younger moms of kids my youngest's age.

Now don't get me wrong, there's a few moms my age that fall into having kids in these age ranges, but their lives are very different than mine.

There's nothing wrong there, we're all built differently. I'm not who I was twenty years ago. Twenty years ago I was out-going, social, and very very busy.

Sorry, had to run for a moment, the Patriarch came running upstairs yelling about the basement flooding...But that is for another post.

Anyhow, I'm not sure when it crept in, but it did creep.

I had plans of being the mom who baked the cookies with the neatly appointed house. The PTA mom who volunteered for everything. The "soccer mom" who hosted team meals at her house. The cool mom who went out for drinks with her other mom friends. The responsible mom that everyone was jealous of.

Yep, I wanted to be all of those things. Instead, I'm aloof, lonely (self-induced), and depressed.

I've decided I've had enough and, hopefully, the next month I can work on getting it straightened out. I miss the old me, but I still don't think I will fit in with the "mom mold" of this era. It's just not who I am.

The coolest thing about that is that it's okay. There might be times where I lament it, but in the end, it really is okay.

~Kim