Thursday, October 9, 2014
Who knew though? A tiny blue pill could be the difference between not caring and caring. Between light and dark. If this doesn't convince me that it is a physical problem, not some psychosomatic thing, I don't know what can. I always wonder if it is all in my head. And I guess it is, but it is a physical problem in my brain.
I usually don't consider myself "sick." I consider myself "crazy." There is a world of difference there. I forget that depression is a legit illness, like the flu or cancer or something, and it can be fatal. The depression does that, though. Convinces me that it is my fault. I am broken in some way. How can I expect other people to treat depression as an illness if I do not even believe it myself?
It is hard and the depression makes everything in the world way harder than normal. I want to share this great post I read: 10 Ways to Show Love to Someone with Depression. I think this is a great article for significant others and caregivers, but I also think it is a great article for the person who is depressed as well. In a way, you are your own caregiver as well. In a way, I think it is actually harder for you to love yourself while depressed than it is for someone else to love you. They always love you. I know that I do not love me. I need to work on that. Bring myself outside. Encourage myself to care for myself. Challenge my own destructive thoughts. Remind myself why I should love myself.
This is so hard.
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
I had a dream. I had a dream that I might be a social worker and get out of science. Well, let me tell you, I did get out of science. I'm no social worker, though. Nope. I do nothing. Except search desperately for a job.
You know, this goes back to me feeling like I'm always doing things the right way yet they never work out for me. School, then marriage, then children. Yeah, that didn't really work out so well. Now it was: take night classes online while working full-time. Check. Pretty hard and my child hated it, but I did it. Next was to do an internship. I fought for the internship and finally, after 6 months, I secured one. I tried to make it work for a month. My job made it very difficult for me and I could not do both. I quit the internship and when I asked for my normal shift back, they said no. So I had to quit. And, because I dropped the internship, I now owe the school $3000, which I need to pay in order to begin there again.
So I have nothing. No job. No school. No way to get into a new school because with an outstanding bill I do not have access to my transcripts. Oh, and because I cannot get a transcript, I cannot use my schooling to get a new job (government jobs, at least, require proof.)
In short, don't follow your dreams. I was told by many many people to just do it. It'll work out. "How will I do an internship, though?" Don't worry, they said, you don't know what your circumstances will be then. Nope, I had no idea that the circumstances were the exact fucking same and I wouldn't be able to do it. It did not work itself out. It fucked up everything. What am I supposed to do now? Where is all of the good advice now?
Thursday, August 14, 2014
My grandmother suffered from depression and sometimes she would enter these catatonic-like states where she wouldn't move. She spent months at a time in the hospital. That was a long time ago, of course. There is no health insurance in the world who would pay for that shit nowadays. It makes me wonder, though, would I have been hospitalized fifty years ago?
Doing nothing isn't easy, either. I am too depressed to move, so I do nothing. Because I am doing nothing I feel like I am wasting time. Which makes me feel worse. Which makes me want to move even less. Which makes me feel worse. Etc. Usually, best-case scenario is that I fall asleep and wake up with a little more motivation. At least enough to get up. That is a start.
So, sometimes, when someone tells you they aren't doing anything they might be sitting in front of an open window getting soaked because they cannot get up to close it. Thankfully they still have the will to speak to you, so there is hope.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
You know, everyone is talking about Robin Williams and depression. I'm kinda mixed about it because hearing about depression constantly is making me very very depressed, yet I am glad that people are talking about it. Maybe they are too much. You can tell that a lot of people who are talking about it do not suffer themselves. It was suggested that maybe in the wake of this tragedy people will get help for themselves. I think, for me, I take it completely oppositely. He was a very successful man with a lot of money, doctors, friends, family, support. He was open about his struggles. He was open about going to rehab and such. He was funny and brought a lot of joy to a lot of people's lives. And he could not escape the darkness. If such a successful man with so many resources couldn't do it, why do I think I can? I don't even have a job. I can't even afford to go to my doctor any more. Maybe I'm the only one who is thinking like this, but probably not. I think for someone who feels so hopeless already, this news just deepens it. And the constant talk about it makes it worse.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
I went to a lot of shows with my friends. Concerts, plays and I almost always drove. I had a car and I liked to drive. And I had a bunch of lame friends who had cars but didn't want to "put the miles on it." Anyways, I drove.
We'd find a show, ask enough people to fill the car and off we'd go. This one time, at the end of senior year, we were going to a show. I can't even remember which one. I asked my friend Matt if he wanted to come with us. He did and he bought a ticket. Apparently more people were invited than could fit in my car so I told Matt he'd have to find his own ride. He got angry, appropriately. I countered with I asked you if you wanted to see the show, I didn't say that you could ride with us. What an asshole and ridiculous response. Of course he was right in assuming that he'd be riding with us, that's how it always worked.
That was the end of our friendship.
We are now friends on facebook, 15ish years later. I want so badly to apologize and tell him I was a complete asshole, but I've read that people don't want to be reminded of these things. That apologizing for something that happened in high school will make me feel better, but it is not necessarily what the other person wants, so I don't.
But I wish so badly that I hadn't done it in the first place.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
So today begins Day 3 unemployed. So far I am absolutely loving it. I'm relaxed. I have more energy and patience for my son. I have more time to walk my dog. I have time to hang out with my wonderful boyfriend. I have been reading. I have been letterboxing. I am scheduled to volunteer at Ryder's school. I've been drinking those great new Arnold Palmer Coolattas (Dunkies, if you want to send me some of them to review I will be happy to!) I thought I would be bored, but this is not the case at all. There are a ton of more things I want to do.
I have applied for a job or two. I feel like I should knock on wood because I do not want to be unemployed forever. But, seriously, I'm really digging it.
This might be happy. I'm not sure because it is not a feeling I am really too familiar with, but maybe.
Thursday, April 10, 2014
I have been. I was in school and I was sharing a car, so when I went to the gas station for my interview and was told I would be working 2 - 10 every Saturday I was psyched. Exactly what I needed.
But not so much. I was under the impression that I had a set schedule. The schedules came out on Mondays and it was kinda far from my house, so I never checked it. This became a problem quite quickly when management kept scheduling me for different hours - usually more hours. So when I showed up on Saturday at 2 and the people were pissed because I was supposed to be there at noon, I told them I was told when I was hired, that I was working 2 - 10.
This did not make me popular. Actually everyone hated me and this continued for a few months. Finally I found a different job at a restaurant and I put in my two week notice. I was moving the Saturday after I put in my notice and had requested the day off. Again, I didn't check my schedule and didn't know I wasn't given the day off. I mean, I would've taken the day off either way because I was moving - what did they want me to do?
So, while I was moving, I got a phone call telling me I was fired. But how could I be fired after I had quit??
Saturday, April 5, 2014
This next one is a middle-aged man who talks about his experiences, as well, but in a slightly more academic way:
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Depression: Day 4
I'm so over this. There is way too much to do to be stuck in bed. I have too much work to do, yet it gets harder and harder every day to go.
I am overwhelmed.
I don't even know what to write, where to start.
The worst part is that there is no end in sight. No light at the end. I mean, maybe, but the light is dim and too many years away. By then I will have missed so much.
People make me sad. The state of the world makes me sad. People who blame themselves for things they could not have prevented, ironically, make me sad.
I have been happier lately. Maybe this is my depression reminding me who is in charge here.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
It's been a while since I discussed this and, honestly, I can't remember what I've told you, loyal reader, and what I haven't.
After years and years and years of healing, there are still memories that come up that are uncomfortable. Then when I really start to think about these memories I realize why they are so uncomfortable, why I never told anyone, why I hid them away. It is because they were abuse. And abuse is insanely difficult to identify by the person being abused. Next time you see a woman (or man) who is being abused and when you don't understand how they can stay in that situation, remember me telling you how hard it is for her to see it.
I grew up in a wonderful, loving home. My parents loved us and they loved each other. There was no abuse. I am lucky to have had such a wonderful family and role models. And yet, I was in abusive relationships (plural) and I didn't know. Imagine the child living with abuse, a child who did not have the privileges that I had. How is that person ever supposed to know they are being abused if they have never known any different?
And I will never say that one abuse is worse than another, but, to be honest, I wished (outloud at some points) that he would hit me. Then I would have known I was being abused and I would have had physical proof to convince people, like family, friends, authorities, and myself.
And since I am being honest, per usual, I need to admit that it is nearly impossible for a person to understand that a husband can rape his wife. Where does duty end and rape begin? And maybe that even sounds crazy to some because is there 'duty'? Maybe it is all rape at that point. But, seriously, that makes things too unfathomable. I have not gotten that far in my recovery and this is the frankest I've ever been with myself.
Save your judgements. You have no right to judge her and what is happening to her. She needs help and possibly guidance, but certainly not judgements. It might be obvious to you that what it is is abuse, but I am telling you, pleading with you to understand, that it is not obvious at all to her.
I am going to make a point now that maybe obvious to some, but trust me: it is not obvious to all.
It is abuse if he forces you to have sex if you do not want to. It doesn't matter what you do or don't do, what you say or don't say, what you wear or don't wear. If you don't want to and he does not respect that, that is abuse. Is it rape? I am afraid you will have to ask someone smarter than myself. All I know is if it feels wrong, it is. And you are better than that and there are men who are better than that. You do not have to live like that.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
It is crazy out there. Seriously, crazy shit happens all the time. You read about it in the papers, so I stopped reading papers. You see it on your Twitter feed, so I lay off Twitter. Now it pops up on my facebook feed. Am I supposed to cut down on facebook use? That's crazy itself. I like staying informed, I just hate reading about the tradgedies and the crazy accidents. Like the boy in Gardner who died when a tv fell on him in school. Did not need to know that. Did not need another thing to worry about.
Because how do you save your children from falling TVs? You can teach them not to talk to strangers, but how do you save them from the monsters they know? You can hold their hands and teach them to look both ways, but how do you save them from that drunk driver?
Obviously I know you can't. You just have to let them go and live life. But I'm not really okay with that.
I worry that my son will need glasses, both his father and I wear glasses. More importantly, I worry my son will have a mental illness. I was clinically depressed by the time I was his age. His father is bipolar. What chance does he have? I mean, I know It's not the end of the world and it is something that can be dealt with, but I'd rather he didn't have to. It's something I just need to keep an eye on, but what if I miss it? How do you save your children from the devils in their head?
I worry that he might end up like his father, but I am 100% certain that he has an advantage over his father - he has people that love him. He has a family who supports him. He's got a pretty good mom.
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
I did everything like I was supposed to do. I picked a vocation young (zookeeper) and stuck with it. Took the necessary courses in high school, graduated top of my class, got into the university of my choice. Did well in college. Maybe partied a bit much, but still graduated with a better than 3.0 GPA. I met my love while in school. We worked and saved and moved to Colorado. We got married. Then shit happened.
Fast forward through the shit that was not supposed to happen.
I finally get my dream job of being a zookeeper I worked so hard to get. I hated it. I quit after the summer was over.
We get back together. We live in a really nice place and we are bringing in enough money to be content. So we decide to have a child. I got pregnant right away and had a perfect little boy. Then shit happened.
Fast forward through the shit that was not supposed to happen.
I am a single mom. I am an only parent. I do not receive child support. I have a job that I never wanted.
I find a school program that I am interested in. And it is online, so I can do my course work while my son is sleeping. Perfect.
Then shit happened.
We can't fast forward through this shit, though, because it is currently happening.
I did it all right. I went to college, I did well in school, I got engaged and then married and then a decent income and then, and only then, a child. That is the right order. Married and then child. I was told if I worked hard and did what I was supposed to do, everything would work out. You know what? Good grades and good jobs and having a child within wedlock and continuing with school, that shit means nothing. It doesn't matter.
I had a plan. And this is not it.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
There are seriously some very sweet people on the internet. I get such positive feedback and support from people I have never met. I am grateful and humbled by you. Thank you. You mean a lot to me.
Here is a list of 15 Single Mom Blogs of 2014 - and guess who's on it?? Seriously, it is so nice. Go visit the other blogs on the list - I know I am going to!
Sunday, January 12, 2014
I don't know what I want to do with my life. I have so many questions. I have options and opportunities, yet I feel like I have none. There are people who love and care about me, yet sometimes I feel alone. I don't know what to do.
I sure as hell know what I don't want to do, though.
And that is a fucking start.