I Am

HURT

      Broken

                                                                                                   empty

                                               sad
               

              lost

USED

`````````````````unappreciated

UNLOVED

unattractive


unhappy
                                                   BROKEN HEARTED
ANGRY
ashamed

         HYSTERICAL

overwhelmed

                           STUPID

lonely
             

ripped apart

crazy

raw

weak
Forgotten

losingthestars

“She cried a little, but only inside, because long ago she had decided she didn’t like crying because if you ever started to cry it seemed as if there was so much to cry about you almost couldn’t stop, and she didn’t like that at all.” 

  Lost in My Mind>

Under Water

Over the last few days, I have lost more and more ground in my battle with my depression. Every time I fight my way to the surface, I seem to get pulled back down some how. I am getting to the point where I no longer want to fight. It seems there is no escape. Like there is an imaginary rope tethering me to the bottom of a deep, and angery ocean. I am left feeling frustrated, stressed, and strained. Barely, able to catch a breath. I keep looking around for something to hang onto. A hand to grab, something to just keep me a float, a kind word, a loving look. I see it all there, just beyond reach. No matter how I try to hold on, my grip slips away. It feels like I can go days without having someone utter a positive word to me. I am retreating into my own mind. I remind myself daily to love thyself, honor thyself, but it seems to only get me to the surface, not keep me a float. Warm salty tears roll down my cheeks again as I feel the ocean waves wash over me once more. I pray, I pray everyday, that I am able to reach the air again, and stay there for a little longer this time. I pray that I am able to see light, to feel loved. I pray that I can find something to hold me, shelter me. So that I can have a few moments to float there, steadily, relaxed by the gentle rocking of the water, instead if knocked around by a raging sea.

Shakey Ground

I am trying so hard to hold it together, but the truth is I feel like I am melting down. I want to lock myself away and cry. My family, my daughter, my current job, my new job,my bills, my lawn, and on and on. Splintering my thoughts and making me feel overwhelmed, and as though no matter how hard I try, I can not keep up. Each time I forget, each mistake I make, disappoints someone, angers them, or is pointed out to me. I am at the point where I don't know who to trust or who to ask for help. Not in a paranoid, delusional way, but in the sense that I know long know my own truth. Everyone is talking at me, just talking at me, constantly. My thoughts are spinning, and I am unable to stop them. The recordings in my mind play over and over. Anyone, who deals with distorted thoughts knows these recordings. They are not voices, or schizophrenia, but the thoughts you play in your mind. The what ifs, the, the I should haves, the you still need to's that roll around in your head when your anxiety level is high. I have begun not to recognise what recordings are mine and what are other people's, based on other people's own insecurities and issues. I in a constant state of evaluating and analysing myself. It's not my fault. It can't all always be my fault! I am exhausted, I am empty, and I am confused.

I am beginning to show physical signs of my illness. My hands shake and my body is tense and aching. I am taking more medication than I ever have before, and I still feel my foundation crumbling. I have no idea how to prop myself back up. It gets shakier, and shakier each day. I am a single mom, with two jobs, and two pets, and bills, I can't afford to shut down. I can't afford to not function, emotionally or financially.  I hold up in the bathroom at work crying, or at home by myself pretending that my stomach is upset so because I can not face any more that day, and I have nowhere else to hide. Still they find me. The people, that demands in my life. They find me no matter where I hide. Needing something from me even when I have nothing left to give. Oh Lord please don't let me fall apart. Please don't let me end up in a hospital somewhere. Please don't let me look week to the people who already think I am not capable of taking care of myself. I am stronger than this, I am more resilient...I hope.

Storm Clouds

While sometimes my depression sneaks up from behind and grabs hold of me with a cold, hard grip, sometimes I can see it coming long before it is full blown. Like a dark storm looming on the horizon, each cool breeze blowing it closer.

My last few weeks have been good, not in a mood sense, but in the sense that things are slowly turning around for me. I got a job, not just any job, but a job I am really excited about and that I think I will be really good at. My daughter and I chose a new pet. It's a bunny named Easter. She is friendly, funny, and low maintenance (at least compared to, say... a puppy). I took a week long vacation. Just me and one of my closest friends spending lots of time catching up, eating yummy food, having some drinks, and having all the conversations we have been saving up for each other. I had a parent teacher conference, and my child is doing really well in school, her whole class is ahead of where her teacher has ever been, in part because she had no snow days this year, but that's ok I can pretend. All of these things should make me happy, and truly they do. Yet...clouds. I see the joy in the moments around me and I feel almost robbed by my disorder, because I can not always rejoice in them.

Last week, the dark clouds broke and the rain started to pour down. I spent one full night just sobbing, literally sobbing and wanting to just give up and hide under my blankets for awhile. I am "high functioning" clinically depressed, meaning it has been years since I was so far down that I could not get out of bed, or go to work but weeks of going through the motions, walking around like a shell of a person while trying to figure out how to pay all my bills, trying to make a Easter memories, perfect birthdays, impress perspective bosses, smiling through uncomfortable, or flat out crappy, moments at work and with my mother. I end up taking on so much for other people, more than what they would ever ask of me, and yet no one can help lessen the weight of my own moods and worries. It sometimes feels unfair and it all caught up with me at once. I suddenly felt tired, tired of trying, tired of not being good enough, tired of fighting so hard to change the path I am on, tired of pretending that I am alright all the time, but most of all tired of day to day ups and downs of living with an anxiety and mood disorder. Why am I so damn tired all the time? Emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted ALL. THE. TIME!!! Some days it feels like such a heavy weight to carry around, and I wish it could be lifted off for just a little while and I could have a break. I don't expect life to be easy, and I believe everyone has their cross to bare. I just want a time where I DON'T have to be strong, I DON'T have to struggle, I DON'T have to put "my best foot forward".

There was a time when I struggled with the idea of being labeled as metally ill. I believed it was situational, or some how temporary. Now, now I struggle with how permanent it is. I try to wrap my head around the idea that it is "ok" to feel this way, or that this is something that I will have to deal with for the rest of my life. I try to make sense of how I can not stop the moods, or the dark clouds and rain from coming, even when I see them on the horizon. All I can do is seek shelter, hunker down, and remind myself that I will survive the storm.

I Don't Know

One of the things I find the most frustrating about my depression is constantly have to answer the questions "What's wrong with you?" "Why are you so upset?" "Are you ok?" "Why are you crying?" Let me see. What IS wrong with me? Why AM I so upset? There is a lot of stress in my life right now, but the plain and simple truth is that I DON'T KNOW what is wrong with me. I DON'T KNOW why I am so upset. I am ok, but I am not good, but I do know there is no amount of advice you can give me to change that. Yes, I understand it sounds strange, but no I DO NOT know why I am crying. It reminds me of when my cousin was little and would get in trouble. When my aunt would be upset he would ask "Mommy happy?" "She would reply, "Nooooo mommy is sad." And he would say, "No mommy happy. Mommy happy" as though if he believed hard enough he could will her to being happy again. Even Chuck, who understands what depression the illness and not the mood is about, after seeing me down for so long, begins to say things like "Why aren't you happy, Honey?" Or "What's wrong baby? Cheer up. I love you. Doesn't that make you happy?" Well, of course I feel happy to be loved, but that doesn't mean I feel happy at that moment. I know he means well, and I know my friends are concerned about me. BELIEVE me if I knew why I was so sad, or what would make me happy I would be all over it. Just like my cousin with my upset aunt, no amount of someone else wishing happiness upon me will help me either. I am depressed clinically depressed. I mean I guess technically I DO know what's wrong with me. What's wrong is the chemicals in my brain are different than those of a "normal" person's brain; therefore, I have to take a medication to alter the chemicals in my brain in order to feel better. Because of this deficiency I am not able process stress and anxiety the way other people do. That does not make it easier to live with, nor does it make it easier for other people to watch me go through. But it is a road I have traveled before, and a road I am sure I will travel again. It is a road with a lot of peaks and valleys, and THAT is all I know.

The Fight

I woke up this morning feeling like I hardly slept at all, though I know I did. Maybe it is the depression maybe it was all the anti-anxiety meds I took yesterday. Whatever it is, it is becoming a regular occurrence. I walk around like everything around me is just happening, like I'm not an actual participant in my own life, more an observer, and an observer who is watching through a fog none the less.

After about 30 minutes and a cup of coffee I begin to become aware of my body, and how it aches. It feels like I have whiplash, but I know there's been no accident. So I begin to retrace the last few days, because this is more than just my normal sore back. It is hard to move. I think about the rage I was in Friday night. I see myself hurling things across the room, pillows, my purse, whatever. I feel myself fighting Chuck as he tried to restrain me some. I wonder how out of control I truly was. I see bruises on my arms that I can't explain and I wonder if those came from me hitting things that night too. I see the scratches on my arms and I remember the day before,  fighting myself. I remember being bent over in the bathroom crying so hard. Every muscle tense and fighting the emotion. I feel my muscles remembering that tension. I remember my head throbbing once I calmed down. The truth is that I was so worked up through a lot of it that I am sure there is a lot I don't remember too. That scares me. What did I do? What did I say? Why can't I control myself more?

Even after all that exploded out of me, I can still feel it bubbling just under the surface. Like a controlled burn. Today as I was frustrated with Chuck over being late to get my daughter from her dad. I had to take more anxiety medicine, and really breath deep as the feelings of anger and rage began to rumble below the surface. I don't want to be a screaming maniac any more. I feel exhausted, guilty,  and small after each time I loss control. Ironically, I began having rages because I didn't feel important or heard. Now each time I have one I feel smaller and less like someone worth listening too.

Uhg I look at myself, my body, how upset Chuck was, and I feel stupid! I have made nothing better for anyone, and now I hurt physically as well as emotionally. I feel beat up in so many ways and it kills me to know I did it to myself. Why do I do this? You would think after 14 years of playing this game with myself I would have figured out a better way to deal with it. Yet it seems every time I start to spiral down I eventually hit the point of no return,  and even if I see it coming. Even if I am aware, and on my meds, and desperately trying to grab hold of something to stop myself from continuing down, I can't stop it. I end up scream, throwing  things and generally acting like the "crazy" person that I so desperately DON'T want to be.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1 annnnnnnd Melt Down

I left work feel pretty depleted. I start the car and before I reach the stop sign at the end of the road I have started to cry. I can't seem to stop myself. I drive home the back way in order to avoid the traffic in town. It is slightly longer but I am in no hurry to get back to the house. Yesterday, Chuck had a bad day with his daughter and was not handling it well. I had been fighting another migraine most of the day and was struggling to keep my head together. It all came to a head after his daughter was in bed. (My daughter is thankfully visiting her father.) I flew into a rage. I am ashamed, hurt, and angry and having trouble wanting to face going home. The more I drive the harder I cry. I get to the intersection of my road, I turn away from our house. I search for my Swiss Army knife in my purse. Drive the other way. I feel myself becoming hysterical. I begin to tell myself "it's ok". After a short time I am crying and repeating that phrase over and over out loud now. "It's ok. It's ok.  It's ok..."  I convince myself to turn around. I feel a sense of panic knowing I have nowhere else to go. I put the blade of my knife on my arm. I feel it burn as I pull it across my arm. I don't really cause any more damage than a scratch. I keep crying, and head home. I pull in the driveway, still crying. All at once I stop crying. I just sit there in the car staring first at the yard, then the house, then the yard, and back to the house. Snippets of last night play through my head, along with mounting worries about having to call the landlord about the rent, the tree that fell from our property on the neighbor's garage, and the leaking roof. I begin to cry again. I look at the house again. I make myself get out of the car and walk slowly toward the house. I walk into kitchen and freeze. I don't know what to do. I hear Chuck and his little girl in the next room. I stand there. Eventually, I walk straight through, up the stairs, and into the bathroom. Stopping only briefly to take my anxiety meds. Sitting on the side of the tub I become hysterical again. My head on my knees, the more I try to control it the harder I cry. Chuck comes in asks what's going on? What the hell is wrong with me? I don't answer and cry harder. He starts to ask if I can watch his daughter for awhile. I just continue to cry. I have no idea how long it goes on like this. All I know is my head is beginning to ache and Chuck is getting twitcher by the second. Saying he needs to get out of here for awhile. I come down stairs and sit with his daughter. Chuck hands me a beer. I still have tears streaming down from time to time. I can't control it. Chuck leaves and I sit on the floor while his girl talks to me. She is sweet and tells me how its ok to cry some times. We talk about numbers and toys. Chuck comes back home and tells me to go lay down. I don't argue and just head to bed. I am woken up at dinner time and Chuck gives me more meds. So here I sit sedated, but no longer crying or shaking. I am ashamed. Ashamed of the raging fit I had, ashamed of needing all these meds, ashamed to have hurt myself, and ashamed I have lost control of my emotions. I hate that I don't know if I will be ok tomorrow or not.

I Need to Cry, But I Can't

Illustration by James Collins

Today is a crying for no reason day, or more accurately a crying for EVERY reason day. I realized today that while I have teared up several times recently. It has been awhile since I have had "a good cry". Which means what I have been doing is burying my emotions, and/or keeping myself distracted enough to keep myself numb. Either way, it is not good. I am defiantly depressed. I seem to be finding very little happiness these days. My anxiety is up to the highest it has been in a long while. My concentration level is GONE! I sometimes find myself talking and honestly have NO idea what I am saying. No recollection of what is coming out of my mouth, or what the thought process was that got me there. I am increasingly disappearing into my own head at home and at work. Tuning out Chuck and the girls as though they are not even talking to me. Forgetting to do basic things like walk the dog before bed, feed myself. Today Chuck ask if it was foggy this morning on the way to the bus stop, and I remembered fog, but could not answer for sure if that was today's drive to the bus, or Monday's. I am mostly going through the motions now, and one day blurs into the next.

Yesterday I woke up hurting. Sore from my throat to my back. Head pounding, feeling like I hadn't had a good night sleep in a week. I thought uh oh, fall allergy season has begun. I spent the majority of the day asleep. When I wasn't asleep I was sipping coffee, yet by 9PM I was yawning again, and I slept the night through as though I had had a full day.  So then I began to wonder, am I not feeling well physically, or is this depression? Then I thought, "Great Patty that's what you need, to have anxiety over whether you are letting your anxiety depress you! Just add that to the list of things you are worried about." Kind of a chicken and the egg type thing, do I feel worse because I am getting sick, or do I feel sick because I am feeling worse. (sigh) So if I go home and cry until I run out of tears will I feel better? Will it give me the release I need? Or will it just lead to opening up a Pandora's box of emotion that I clearly am not able to deal with right now? And whatta you do with that? It is not like I have the time, space, or energy to do my drawings, meditate, or even cry to a friend. I pretty much distract myself with my book to keep from having to deal with my overwhelming emotional state, and just keep on keepin on because I don't really feel like I have any other option. I am not am to reach Chuck right now. He is also in an altered state. I can not quit or give up, I have 2 little girls who count on me every day. So each day becomes a blure of things I "have to do" for work, for my family, for my pets, and nothing more. I am sad, I am angry, I NEED to cry.

I have moments of feeling SO glad to have gotten Chuck's daughter out of such a crazy, sad life style. Or of feeling bonded to her, or her feeling attached to me. Or the joy I feel when I am rocking her and she falls asleep with her little head on my chest snuggled up to the stuff animal we got her as a welcome "home" gift. I have moments of pride in my child as she aces her spelling list. Or a moment of hearing her Or a moment of happiness when she giggles about some game we are playing. A moment of contentment with one girl snuggled next to me and one on my lap, story in my hand. And I cling to those mements. They ARE memories that are crystal clear to me. Staying with me and helping me remember what it is like to not be angry or numb. I cling to them. People keep asking me how I am doing? Am I ok? How are we all adjusting? Without a second thought I automatically blut out "we are fine" "I'm ok" "It's ok" The truth is I don't know how much longer I can be this OK, and that scares me. I CAN NOT be depressed. I CAN NOT stop being mom. I CAN NOT stop bringing in an income. I CAN NOT stop supporting Chuck while he does what he has to in order to help his child. I CAN NOT disappear. I know this and it weighs on me. What if I am not ok? Nope, not going to even let my head go there. I MUST be ok. I can't let my emotions get ahold of me.

Don't Pretend My Elephant isn't Real

So I am wondering why no one seems to understand me. Am I not expressing myself well? Do most people not care? Do peopele expect me to be stronger than I am? Do I treat myself with so little self respect that it seems ok to talk down to me? Do people just not get how much anxiety and depression truly affect you? Whatever the reason, I feel like I am constantly trying to get people to understand what's going on with me. Yet they still seem to push, or disregard, or talk down to me for my "weakness" or "moodiness". When you tell someone close to you that you feel as though you are beginning to reach a limit on what you can handle before you reach self district they should take you seriously, right? Maybe I expect to much. Maybe I expect people to SEE I am falling apart and offer support instead of asking for support. It often feels to me like when I do ask for help (not from my counselor, but rather friends or family) that it is either not heard, or is more of a pat on the back and then it is forgotten. My father (who is also my boss) will say "go do some work therapy" meanwhile, I am proud of myself for even getting out of bed that day. My parents are the worst at understanding, and being supportive of my mental health problems. They don't believe in meds. They don't believe in counseling. They believe you suck it up and move on. It is hard to explain to people around you, even friends and relatives at times that you just can't. You can not just snap out of it. You can not explain why you are crying nor can you stop. No it is not "just life" (that's my mom's favorite) it is more than that for people who have issues with depression. And NO it is not acceptable to talk to me like I am incapable, or crazy. I understand the scope of things just fine. I am not weak or overly sensative. I have a real issueand I am really struggling. I will not just feel better tomorrow. And telling me those things only makes me feel worse, and if I say I am reaching my breaking point I mean it. Panick attacks, cutting, the overwhelming desire to hide away from some place so I can be left alone, I mean it! I am not looking for attention or being dramtic. I am very, very real!

No Use Crying Over Lost Sleep...or Is There?

Why it is OK to lay on your bedroom floor crying

Sleep & Moods

OK so I had planned for today's entry to be about daughters and how our images of ourselves affect them and how they see themselves. However, by about 11AM today I discovered (quite accidentally) that I seem to be an emotional wreck today, and I am not entirely sure why. I just feel this overwhelming desire to burst into tears at any moment. While I believe there is nothing wrong with the occasional good cry, crying at work for no reason is often frowned upon. Also, constant crying with no real cause often make people wonder/worry about your stability and basic ability to function. Something, I too, worry about my own ability to do. Right now I may be a touch on the hormonal side, but over all I think it is lack of sleep. No matter how much I try to convince my mind and body that it is REALLY very simple, you get tired, you close your eyes and sleep, it doesn't seem to be that simple for me. So I have been taking Ambien for about a year now. While I now have occasional episodes where I do or say things I have NOOO recollection of, I do sleep more...except when I run out. Which is what just happened, and of course I had not noticed the prescription had no refills left. So it has taken several days to get it from the doctor, to the pharmacy, to me. In the meantime, sleep is alluding me. I know people who get all slap happy when they are sleep deprived, people who get cranky. Not me. I get cranky AND depressed. Chuck will tell you the 2 things that negatively affect my mood the most is not eating and not sleeping. I become quite the crazy person. I try my best to eat when I need to (not always easy working in retail and raising a small child) and to sleep. I take naps regularly.

When I went through the darkest period of my depression and anxiety, sleep was a huge issue. The antidepressants messed up my sleep patterns and the added anxiety made it hard to settle my uneasy mind. I began having panic attacks. My father began to pick up on the fact that the days where the attacks were the worst, the days the rendered me helpless, where often after an especially bad night of sleep. It is a vicious cycle for me. High anxiety makes it hard to settle down and sleep, no sleep causes increase anxiety, less sleep, more anxiety, less sleep...That's why I did eventually turn to medication. Though that has its definite cons as well. Memory laps being one of the biggest, but also, I have a young child. Anyone with young children knows that things come up in the middle of the night, sickness, bad dreams, thunder storms. I wanted to be sure I was able to be there if she needed me, especially when I was a single mom. But by not getting enough sleep at night I was not able to be fully there for her during the day. I was moody, distracted, and in a fog often. Using the TV as a babysitter while I napped, or zoned out. So I chose to try the meds. So far I have been ok enough to respond, though details are often fuzzy in the morning. It often feels like coping with my depression and moods is a constant balancing act though. One I am not always good at.