May

29

Stuck on Repreat

Do you ever get stuck in a moment?

I’m not talking about a whistful remembrance of a memory from long ago. No, really stuck. Your mind racing over all the “what if’s”, the “I wish I would’ve”, or “if only I could of”and of course, the “I should’ve”. What if those moments never stop? What if every new moment, is you stuck in an old moment? And then your new moments are regrets of not using your new moments to be better or change but to continually be your “if only” moments…. and it never ends…. the cycle never ceases.

I have a million “moments” from my youth. From high school. From college. From being a new wife. From being a new mother. From having my second child. From when I didn’t realize I wasn’t emotionally well. From realizing I had a problem. From how I chose to solve that problem. From the repercussions of trying to fix myself and failing. From all the things I have done and the hundreds of things I haven’t done. To realize I am getting too old to do so many of the things I dreamed I wanted to do because for so many years I thought I couldn’t do it.

I am constantly thinking of all the years wasted, only to get to a year later and realize I am in the same place I was the year before, and the year before that and that I’m constantly filled with guilt and anger that I didn’t change or do ANYTHING. That I barely tried. I’m thirty-two now, and I have missed out on so much. That isn’t to take away from what I have done but deep down I know it’s not enough. I have no specifics tonight. There are too many things to name. This post is vague and incompete but that, that is what I feel like my whole life is right now.

My days are vague, monotonous, and incomplete. The same thing day in and day out. Not growing, or changing, or achieving what I wish I would and the next day comes and instead of doing something different, it ever so carefully slips into that comfortable, yet terribly uncomfortable, existence that is my life.

But, I’m not the only one. I am paving the way for my family to be filled with regret too.

My life is playing on a continuous repeat. Rationally, it feels like it would be so easy to change. But truthfully, it feels like my life ended years ago, or maybe, it never actually begun.

Jan

5

Follow Through

I am good at a lot of things.  Even on my darkest days, I know there are things I am good at. On those days I might not be able to say I am GREAT at them, but I’m good…mediocre at best.

But really, I have had compliments on my talents and even a two year Theatre scholarship without even auditioning. The College Director saw my show and not knowing how to contact me sent a letter to my high school offering me a full two-year scholarship, so I know for a fact that in my high school musical production of Fiddler On The Roof, I played one heck of a Hodel!

 

You know what I am not good at… following through.

“Let’s hang out sometime!” – The heart is willing but goodbye old friend, it was nice while it lasted.

“I’m going to fix these pants for my son.” – Never going to happen.

“I’ll message you with the details.” – How about tomorrow after never.

“I’m going to organize this whole room!” – After I take this nap for 2 months.

“I’m going to write in my blog.” – 16 months later…

 

Yeah, following through is not a strong suit.  If it’s really time sensitive or it’s for a performance, sure, then it will happen…barely.  I have always been a procrastinator but at some point, it just went way, WAY past that.  Truthfully, I want to do everything I say I’m going to do and give it a 100% however, My engine is usually running on cheaper fuel that sometimes leaves me empty for most of my day.

 

So why all these mutterings? And why now?  Well, I was thinking about jumping on this blog the other day because I knew it had been a while. Which happened to be an understatement!

It’s been sixteen months since my last post! How did I let sixteen months pass by? I mean, I knew it had been long when I couldn’t even remember what my blog was called, but seriously, sixteen months?  And do you know what was the worst part about dusting off this poor old blog?  To see how many drafts I had from sixteen months ago?

I’m not sure anyone, not than anyone reads this but still, I don’t think anyone would believe me when I say I looked at my drafts and saw I had 46, that’s right 46 posts that I never finished! Talk about lack of follow through.  I feel there should be a reward for my lack of follow through.  Maybe it was good I was off for sixteen months because who knows how many unfinished drafts would be sitting there waiting for me if I came on here regularly. I could’ve had a book made of unfinished blog posts. The half written ramblings of a mad women.  “Where was she going with that idea?” “I have no idea, she never finished.”

Well, enough of that. On to the point. I want to finish things. Not just necessary things I have to finish, but things that I want to do.  I started this blog for a reason and I would like to add to it. Make it something people could connect to.  I make no promises because I know that I can’t do promises, it only leads to heartbreak, but I would like write more. I would like to express more.  Maybe I’ll even let on when I finish one of those 46 drafts. As for now. I’m off.

Aug

31

The real aftermath of the war against depression and anxiety.

My husband and I have just met a huge milestone in our relationship.  We have been married for 10 years now.  Quite an accomplishment especially in a world riddled with divorce.  When you think of a successful 10 year wedding anniversary, you think of celebration.  Many couples go on a cruise, or maybe a stay-cation.  Some do fancy dinners and updated wedding rings or other fine jewelry. Maybe a party, a renewal of vows but one thing’s for certain, those successful couples celebrates privately in their own “romantic” way.

My husband and I love each other very much.  We have been through tremendous amounts of ups and downs and more struggles than I think most couples face in the first 10 years.  It hasn’t been fair to either of us but we have pushed forward and aren’t giving up.  Our marriage is still surviving the battle, but the truth is there are always casualties of war.  Our fallen soldier has been intimacy, specifically sexual intimacy.  It is such an important component of marriage and yet I see it laying there by the wayside bleeding out and dying of starvation.

You know what we did for our 10 year anniversary? Nothing.  We had plans to maybe go away but it didn’t happen.  My husband was gone all day from 8 am to about 10 pm preparing for his film shoot while I had pretty much one of the worst days ever.  I had all three kids, had to go to 3 stores to get food for the film shoot and buy school supplies.  It was a humid 118-degree day, I had to borrow my mother’s car since our breaks are out and then I backed into a car in the Walmart parking lot around 1 pm (pretty much the hottest part of the day).  I also had 3 hours of rehearsal where I was teaching a dance to people who don’t usually dance and I really showed my mental stability by crying in front of all of them.  As I left rehearsal I was in the car driving home sobbing, I saw that my husband had made me a video for our anniversary.  It was short and sweet and filled with random people he saw throughout the day wishing me a Happy Anniversary.  It was sweet and kind but I couldn’t give it the attention it deserved.  I couldn’t give my husband the gratitude he deserved. He tried his best to make something out of our anniversary and I couldn’t give anything back.  And that is a perfect summary of our relationship. Especially our sexual relationship.

For years my husband has given so much, He has tried so hard and I can’t reciprocate.  So he gives less because honestly he can’t give anymore and I don’t blame him.  This is the same issue with intimacy.  He doesn’t even try anymore because I know in his mind it’s pointless and sadly he’s right.

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I have never had much of a sex drive. My own personal relationship with sexual desire was twisted from a young age due to molestation and when intimacy arose in my first relationship at the age of 18 I was constantly filled with unnecessary shame and guilt. These issues made their way into our relationship from the beginning and we had to fight against them.  It was not easy but we continued to work at it.  Then depression and added anxiety entered our relationship.  The first thing that was affected was sex.  What little desire I had was gone. All the issues we had worked on came barreling back.  My self-hatred and body dysmorphia made me shudder at the thought of being touched. Still, I fought those feelings and tried so hard to give him the intimacy he deserved and needed. But it wasn’t nearly enough. Truth is, we are now on year 8 of consistent and never ending depression and anxiety and our sex life is worse than ever.

Since the medication that led to me gaining 150 lbs, I have become so incredibly uncomfortable. I am uncomfortable in my skin. To be touched in a romantic (and even unromantic) ways makes me feel almost disgusted.  I feel queasy and uneasy. I can barely even cuddle feeling the way I do.  This is only intensified by the guilt and anger I feel.  I want so badly to be the wife my husband deserves and it kills me that I can’t.  Instead of being in an intimate moment I get caught up in my own self-hatred. My husband will try to look lovingly in my eyes to tell me he loves me or that I’m beautiful and attractive and it’s a struggle not to pull away.  I can’t maintain eye contact with him.  It physically hurts. It’s awkward to hold hands with him,  to kiss him, to have his arms around me.  It feels so foreign and all I can think about is how much I let him down, how much I hurt him by being what I am and how unattractive and gross I feel. Then the real guilt filled thoughts come, the thought that if I let him touch me then he will think we may do something intimate I just don’t have it in me, I can’t follow through.  It becomes another reason to avoid touch or eyes or anything remotely loving because I don’t want to lead him on.  For him to think he might “get something” that I just can’t follow through with. It truly kills me to know that I can’t give him a healthy intimate relationship.

Why this post?  Why now? He and I have talked about this subject before, we’ve known this has been a problem for some time now, but tonight my husband said the words that I have pushed aside in my brain too many times to count.  He said, ” I don’t know if we can come back from this.  I don’t know if we can ever truly be intimate again.”  He wasn’t talking just about sex. He was talking about that connection, that trust, that love that comes from real “love making”.  I know he’s right.  I just don’t know what to do about it. I feel helpless, trapped, angry, guilty and scared.

He is a man who needs sex.  Not just sex but real intimacy and connection and I can’t give it to him.  I want to but I can’t… among the millions upon millions of other things I am failing at this one is the hardest to fix.

There is no solution.  I am so focused on surviving the day, on making sure my kids aren’t neglected, or even stomaching loving touches from my kids who have to hug my disgusting body, that the last thing I would ever want to do is be in a romantic situation. Then there is my poor husband who can’t express that he needs physical attention because he knows the guilt I already feel, how much I beat myself up daily in my mind. The guilt he then feels for expressing his own need makes him feel awful. It’s not fair. I want to blame the depression and anxiety but they are so much a part of me I can’t separate them from myself.  This causes more self-loathing that just perpetuates the situation.

In the battle with depression and anxiety, sexual intimacy is attacked and suffers the most in relationships but it is never really talked about. Not really.  Looking for help concerning the matter has the most generic of answers.  It’s nothing I haven’t tried before which makes me feel even more defeated.  How can I overcome this?  How can I really get over these crippling feelings and thoughts? If the depression and anxiety magically disappear would I still feel like my husband is a stranger in the bedroom?  Will I still crave touch but shudder at the manifestation of that needed affection? Will he still want me when this is all over?  Or will we continue to be invested, roommate? Cause that is what we feel like right now, “roommates” and I HATE it.  I Hate all of this…

 

Aug

25

Backsliding

It’s amazing how much can change in so little of time.   I had a whole 2 months of hope.  2 months of feeling I am on my way towards a better life for myself and my family. Then it was gone. No warning. No chance to brace myself or my family.

In April I had found a moment of energy that pushed me to getting things in order.  I busted my butt, and got the house clean, I mean REALLY clean.  Not just straightened up and things thrown in the random corners. It felt nice. It inspired me. I started making goals of all the things I wanted to do in our house. All the things I have put off for 2 years since moving into our house.  I wanted to decorate and make the place a home. I didn’t want that work to be in vain so I maintained it, and it was easy.  The kids were willing to help me, to do their chores with no complaining because it was “doable”. The attitude in the home switched.  Dinners became easier.  Cleaning up as we lived was easier. We started doing more together, the kids would rather play a family board game than watch TV. I even felt motivated to blog, I felt hope and couldn’t work on my old drafts that felt, for lack of a better word, depressing.  I thought this was what I was waiting for. Maybe things will be different now. I was wrong.

Within a blink of an eye I lost it and couldn’t get it back. The motivation, the joy and pride, gone.  I had hit a wall and couldn’t recover.

My cousin was getting married and with only a week left before her wedding my Mother informs me she needs help.  She has no decorations, no one helping nor even really supporting this wedding.  My Mom just wanted opinions and ideas but then she got some bad news. My Mom needed knee surgery and they could only get her in on the Friday (the day before the wedding when she was suppose to decorate and get things ready for the wedding).  So to help my mother and cousin I stepped up.  I took over the decorations and spent a whole lot of time and energy to get things perfect for my cousin’s wedding. I was exhausted.  It took a lot out of me. My cousin never even said thank you, which was surprisingly not a surprise.

As the reception ended I stayed after to clean up and realized my Mother who just had extensive knee surgery was going to be on her own in a very cluttery house (thanks to my father).  I knew she would not take the time she needed to rest her knee.  She would be getting up too often to make food and wouldn’t be able to escape the temptation to clean her house.  So I insisted on her staying at our house.  She was there for 1 1/2 weeks.  With me feeling drained it took all I had left in me to care for her and all of my routines that I had set up to keep the house clean went out the window.  I never recovered. The house never recovered. The burden and failure of being unable to maintain and stay on that positive road pushed me even further down into despair.  The temperature even changed, literally.  In Phoenix we had one of the coolest Mays we have ever had then suddenly in the last weekend of May we went from high 80s to the 100’s.  Trying to work and clean during the day sucks when it’s hot, then factoring in physical and emotional exhaustion, lack of motivation and disappointment, it’s nearly impossible.  I couldn’t do it.  I backslided into a puddle of quicksand. I couldn’t escape.  It feels like I never will.

I look back and think, “Why is this so hard? I did it before and thrived!” but then all those deep dark thoughts steep and stew in my mind and take up all the space in my brain.  All those little hidden pockets of dim hope have been blackened into a cancerous ooze.

It’s times like these that I get so angry.  Why is this my life? Why is this my lot? Why do I have to suffer so? Why does my family have to go through this? I want to give up.  However, I never could do that with a clear conscience. I suppose that’s a good thing. Right?

Apr

17

Parenting with Depression: Something’s wrong with Mommy

It is a well know fact that parenting is no easy task. It is not for the weak of heart. It takes time, energy, diligence, patience, kindness, love, selflessness, discipline, having fun and so much more than I can even name.

When I was young, I always knew I would be a Mom. I thought how my child would never go through what I suffered. I had this ideal in my head, that most ‘never been mothers’ have.  I knew it would be hard.  Something I never factored in was depression and anxiety. How could I know it would hit me so hard and so deep?

After years of struggle and feeling like I have failed and have damaged my children beyond repair (Please see Parenting with Depression: The Fear of Neglect), I had to hope and pray that it wasn’t true and that my kids could still be alright.  Despite all of the struggles and failings, I knew that my kids KNEW that I LOVED them. I also knew that they still LOVE ME. My husband and I realized that my kids weren’t little anymore.  They needed to know that what is going on with Mommy is NOT normal.

As much as it hurt, I swallowed my pride and told them, “There’s something wrong with Mommy”.

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There are going to be times that I am so tired I can’t get up out of bed or off the couch.  That this is a result of the sickness, it is not normal and Mommy is trying to get better.  There are going to be times where Mommy gets mad for no reason, and I may yell.  This is not normal and Mommy will sometimes need a time out to calm down.  There are times when Mommy can’t stop crying but I will be okay. I had always thought that a Mother comforts her children, not the other way around. Sometimes we have to accept that this is what our family has to do. ( I seriously have the sweetest children alive!)

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We have always been honest at telling our kids that we make mistakes and when we are wrong we apologize.  When I have a bad mood swing or can’t play with them the way I need to and want to; I apologize and remind them that I love them with all my heart, that I am going to keep on trying to get better.

The reason I wanted to share this post was because of an incident last Monday with my eldest, Blake.  Last Monday I was beat from a very tiring weekend.  We had guests over so I busted my butt getting things cleaned; 1- to avoid embarrassment and 2- it was a great excuse/reason/motivation whatever you want to call it, to get my house clean, something I desperately want to be done but struggle to do.

So Monday rolls around and I have been trying really hard to be “present” with my kids.  Liam and I decided to make banana muffins, however,  the kids must have woken up super early because they were all grumps.  I took Liam and Keira to the store to get walnuts and on the way home Keira fell asleep.  It was barely 10:30am and I am beyond exhausted.  I try to convince Liam to watch a show so I can lay down for a moment while Keira was sleeping but he insisted on making the muffins right then.  So we did.  Then Keira wakes up. She barely took a 45 minute nap.  The rest of the day felt like it was moving so slowly. By around 3 I knew Blake would be home soon.  Keira was intently watching Tumble Leaf on Amazon while Liam was playing games on my phone and I decided to lay down.  It’s something I always feel terrible about.   I don’t feel as bad when Keira is napping because I know Liam loves having TV time for himself without having to watch Curious George, Tinker Bell or any other “kiddie” show.  However, on Monday Keira was up and I couldn’t last any longer.  I laid down in my bed (which is only 5 1/2 ft away from the Living Room) and I was hoping to just rest but I fell asleep.  I briefly woke up when I heard Blake come home. I reminded him today was his last day of dance and that we will need to leave soon but then I quickly drifted back to sleep. I woke up abruptly only to see it was already time for dance class and he would be late.

I was so mad.  It was his last day of class, they were having rehearsal on the stage where they would be performing this Saturday and he was missing it!  I came out of my room angry! Rushing everyone to get shoes on and taking it out on Blake.  “You knew you had dance at 4. Why aren’t you ready?  Why didn’t you get me?” This anger and frustration and blaming continued as we got in our van and then it hit me! “What are you doing AVA?!?!  This isn’t HIS fault! You are the Mother, it is your responsibility! You are mad at yourself NOT him.”  In the past when I heard that voice, I don’t know if it was pride or fear or what, but I wouldn’t listen to it. I use to not want to admit when I was wrong and when I did it was after the fact. Luckily, the me that wants to get better made a decision that had always been so hard to do int he past. I stopped.

“Blake, I’m sorry.  It is not your fault. It’s mine.  I fell asleep and should have been more aware.  I am mad at me, not you. Do you Understand?  Do you Forgive me?”

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I have always apologized in the past, but this time I not only recognized my mistake IN the moment, I didn’t let it continue.  I stopped it right away. I didn’t let it fester and build. I didn’t realize I was wrong then feel guilty, get more mad at myself and continue to take it out on my innocent son( like I have so many other times in the past). I was honest and in that moment instead of being a mean Mom, an unfair Mom. I became a teacher.  I taught my child that we are in control of emotions, even though it is very hard.  That if they get carried away in the moment, we have the power and control to stop it. We can recognize our faults and fix it there and then if we allow ourselves to.  Apologies and forgiveness can be immediate, powerful and can be healing.

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Yes, there is something wrong with Mommy but I am getting better.  I  can recognize my faults and so can my kids.  I can teach them even when I don’t always think it’s possible.  I can and will always love them.  Most importantly; they show me that I can be loved in return.

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Sep

10

Distractions

When every thought brings guilt, sadness, pain, and tears, it becomes almost necessary to find distractions at any cost.  Everyone uses temporary distractions. I believe it’s only natural. The problem arises when your whole life is filled with nothing but distractions.

Lately, I have been worse than usual. I have had another medication change and life has been tough. I am having nothing but negative feelings. I have been defensive, impatient, critical, moody, angry, hopeless and just plain difficult.  The slightest thing sets me off and leaves me in a deep despair. I love my children but I haven’t been able to feel any joy around them. I feel angry at them for their behavior, followed by anger at myself for being the reason they behave that way.  I want nothing to do with them or anything else in my life and then I hate myself for thinking that way…

The only way to escape these feelings is to distract myself. With technology I have an automatic distraction built into my phone. I can easily put away hours upon hours on my smartphone, distancing myself from my family, life and most importantly, my mind.  Movies, TV, games, Facebook, Pinterest, music, crochet, theatre and sleep are my drugs of choice. I call it a drug because I can’t get enough. I have to up the usage to get the same effect. I can’t  JUST watch one show I have to watch several. I can’t even watch that show and be content.  I have to be playing a game, or pinning pins I will never use. I can’t just take a 15-minute nap. It has to be 2+ hours and the feeling of restfulness lasts for maybe 10 minutes before I feel helpless and resentful again.

Night time is the hardest. Reflecting on my day full of failures makes me want to lose myself in any way possible. Usually with Netflix and Pinterest. Then when I force myself to go to bed, I am not able to sleep. My thoughts run rampant so, I play on my phone until my mind and eyes are so strained and tired I have no time to think before I fall asleep.

Watching a show during the day for escape is impossible, it becomes too upsetting as moment after moment is interrupted by children. So I sit on the couch with my phone as they watch whatever they want for hours on end until it’s my youngest’s naptime and I can finally lay down and sleep. To escape reality. All the while, my 4-year-old is on his own with the TV. Again. The guilt of this is tremendous! I want him to do more, I want BE more but it all feels impossible. And when I try, I fail, or it exhausts me to my core. I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to play with my children. Or how to be patient with them and it kills me.

The failing cycle continues as my husband comes home to a despondent wife, misbehaving children, a messy home and a life he didn’t sign up for. His exhausted despair fuels my need to be anywhere else than present.  I didn’t plan dinner, again. I didn’t put the laundry away that has been sitting on the couch for a week. I haven’t done the dishes for over 2 weeks, nor swept the floor in a month…

It’s no wonder he then distracts himself in his office with games and work and business meetings. Who would want to be around me? Who would even want to be around children who act like animals because I am failing them?

I am writing this at 4:30 in the morning, in my bed, on my cell phone.

I am writing this after spending about 4-5 hours watching TV and pinning what I wish my life was like what’s on Pinterest. Instead of doing anything remotely productive.

I am writing this after forcing myself to turn off the TV even though I really wanted to watch at least 2 more hours of shows.

I am writing this after getting in bed looking back on a day of absent mothering and feeling bricks of guilt being stacked on my chest so I can’t even breathe. Knowing how worthless I really am.

I am writing this laying next to my sleeping husband who saw I got to bed at 3 in the morning… Again. Who had disapproval and disdain reflected in his countenance towards me for this action.

I am writing this laying next to my husband who has barely spoken to me in 3 days.

I am writing this sobbing wondering how can I stop these thoughts in enough time to fall asleep and get up with my children in the morning. 

I am writing this knowing that this dreadful cycle will continue tomorrow. Only it will be worse because it’s the day Ryan works from home. It’s the day he sees how screwed up I really am. How much damage I am causing my children.

I am writing this wishing I could just hurt myself, to punish myself.

I am writing this wishing I was dead.

Because honestly, that would be the greatest distraction…

Jul

10

The convenience of not living.

The idea of taking one’s own life has the appearance of selfishness, cowardliness and is incomprehensible to most.  For someone struggling with depression, it can feel like the only option. In my own life, I have thought of suicide. I remember in 3rd grade being home with my brother on our 3rd story apartment balcony, standing on the ledge looking down at the hot Arizona rocks, thinking how easy it could be to jump.  A few years later holding a kitchen knife almost wishing I was brave enough to cut my wrists or stab myself in the gut.  As I got older the thought of ending my own life made me have many mixed emotions. Feelings fo relief at the thought of being free, no longer bullied, berated and abused but the overwhelming thing I felt was guilt.  How could I think of such a thing?  Imagine what it would do to my Mother?  And then, years later, how would my husband feel? And now, I couldn’t do that to my children?   They would think I didn’t love them, or worse, that they were responsible.  I could never risk that! Even if, in those moments, I truly feel like life would be better for them if I was gone.

So when I look at myself and my family and I imagine how much better off they would be without me, actual suicide does not linger in my mind.  No. Instead, it’s the, What if I got into a car accident? Or a building collapsed on me?  Or any other catastrophe I could think of… They couldn’t feel responsible then! And they would be free of me and all my faults. It would be a very convenient “tragedy”.  One that I some days hope for.  Contrary to what others may think, it doesn’t feel selfish.  It feels like a gift I could give them.  To no longer be in their lives, hurting them by my actions or inactions.  To save them from my own misery, so they could go about their lives and find the happiness that I am keeping from them. It’s a thought that comes and goes, but when it does come…it can be very hard to shake.

 

 

Jun

20

Romantisized sleep

Sleep. It has always seemed to elude me.  However, with its nightly distance, I always found myself more energized.

As far as I can remember going to bed was always a taxing item on my to-do list.  As a child I distinctly remember laying in my bed unable to turn my brain off, to fall asleep blissfully.  I would get up, put a blanket at the foot of my door (to block the light), turn on my light and clean my room. I would reorganize everything.  Refold clothes, arrange clothes by colors, put my toys in the perfect spot and remake my bed so it was perfect.  Once I finished that I wold sneak out of my room to watch Star Trek the Next Generation from the Hallway. It started at 9 pm and as it was ending I would sneak back to my room, get in my perfectly made bed just in case my Mother would come in to check on me.  I remember laying in bed fantasizing. Imagining I was a princess, asleep in my perfect bed, as I would adjust my hair so it would look beautiful. I would lay on my back clasping my hands in front just like Sleeping Beauty and think about a prince who would come, kiss me and take me away.  Who would want me and love me? All the things we would do together.  Other nights I would dream about being magic. Being able to fix all the awful things in my life, my family and the world.  I would imagine I was a famous actress and recite the lines from Romeo and Juliet longing to be Olivia Hussey with her gorgeous long hair. Pretty sure I was the only 5-year-old who had the balcony scene memorized line for line as I would sit on the branch of the Olive tree in our front yard.  But I am getting off topic.

My nights never got easier. As I got older I remember crying myself to sleep, thinking of comebacks to bullies and again imagining a different life for myself. I would stay up late doing homework and there were many nights that I just wouldn’t go to sleep at all. How I managed to do so well in high school is beyond me, but I did.  Being a “night-owl”, I was obviously NOT a “Morning person”. Despite doing decent in school I was often late.  Not only on my own accord, since my Mother is incapable of managing time.

The only time I have had semi-healthy sleeping habits was in College. Trust me when I say I understand the irony.  Long gone are those days, and now I am a Mother.  And being a night-owl is not an ideal situation.  I am 29 years old and going to sleep is still a huge challenge.  If I go to bed, I lay for hours upon hours with lists of to-do’s, what- ifs, could-bes, and no-mores.  I have thought about it and there is something about night time, especially with children, that is just mine.  It’s my time and I don’t want it to end.  I seem to go through the same ridiculous cycle of enjoying my time, losing track of time, realization, and guilt, then the “screw it” attitude, followed by the 4 am inspirations.  That tomorrow will be different.  I can see everything planned out so perfectly.  The way I am to handle the children, to organize the house, to exercise, eat right and to truly be proud of myself.  So I head off to bed only to allow my head to reel with the promises of a better tomorrow, and then the sun is up.  My children will be awake in less than 2 hours. I just made things worse…again.

I know that having a better sleeping pattern will help me dramatically but I am just not sure how to truly follow through. It should be easy but I know there is a part of me that dreads the next day.  I don’t want it to come.  I want to fantasize about its perfection in theory and am too afraid to make it happen.  The fear of failing and judgement is real to me.  It haunts me.  The fear of the coming day is all too real for me.  I still lie in bed imagining a life that is full of magic. Where I can wave my hand and turn myself and my life into my own perfect world.  I long to stay in bed and be awoken by someone who will make all my pain go away and whisk me off to a world of perfection.  Where money is not a problem, fear is not crippling, my love ones are happy and I am anyone else but myself.

Mar

27

Too many feelings.

I have heard that some people who are depressed feel numb, feel nothing. Many who feel this way often turn to things that make them “feel” again, like cutting. They would rather feel pain than nothing at all. Anything to prove they are alive.

I, on the other hand, feel every negative feeling you can think of, only harder, stronger and all the time.  It feels like the emotions never end.  There have been days where I will cry for hours upon hours.  Usually having no understanding for why I feel the way I do.  So much sadness, fear, loss, helplessness, hopelessness, regret, guilt, anger, hate, misery, self-loathing, pain… I feel all of it at once.  It causes me to have migraines, feel physically sick and weak.  And all though I feel mostly negative feelings there are moments when I do find joy.  These moments of happiness are usually brief and fleeting. Many times when I do feel the lift of positivity, something inside me says “you don’t deserve this”. I then fall back down into my cesspool of inadequacy, loneliness, rage, rejection, embarrassment, doubt, shame, jealousy, grief… I often find myself wishing I could hold onto the joy but more often, I would do anything to just feel Nothing.

Mar

19

Defining Depression: The Melodrama

Defining Depression. There is no real definition that fits everyone. I hope to share ways to illustrate depression through my own words and through other voices on the world wide web.

melodrama floor movie still

I have often found it difficult to describe my depression in any meaningful or relatable way.  As my husband, who is quite a logical person, has tried to understand depression and the feelings I have, it has been quite clear that it is impossible for me to fully express.   I began looking online for accurate descriptions that he could understand.  Ones that Ryan could connect to.  As I presented my findings I realized how over the top and melodramatic they all sounded.

For someone like Ryan, and even as I read them out loud I could see how some could find all of this made up and a way to get attention. The range of emotions in these “definitions” are far reaching and often feel exaggerated. In some instances I found myself skeptic of the writer, wondering if they were playing a victim, I was falling right into the stigma society had created. When I silenced that voice and tried to break the habit of societal judgment that we are all susceptible to, I could then look past the ones that didn’t relate to me and find what did speak to me.

melodrama movie still

Truth be told, my life is a Melodrama.  Everything feels far fetched and extreme.  The slightest comments, thoughts, and actions appeal to my emotions.  And those emotions take control of everything until there is nothing left to give. Until there are no more tears to cry and the curtain goes down and the lights go out and everything is dark and quiet. You can no longer feel anything because it was all put out on that stage.  Exhaustion takes over until the next day and then you are back on stage.  Places, Curtain, Lights, and begin scene! The show begins again.  More unexplained emotions, more unexpected plot twists and ostentatious events.  Exaggerated reactions that cannot be stopped. and the pressure of performing for all to see.  Being critiqued and judged followed by humiliation and self-condemnation.

melodrama fear

As we know, “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts…” -William Shakespeare     The role I have been playing is getting tiresome. I am ready for a new play, a new part,  looking forward to that final curtain call.