Posts Tagged ‘depression’

Honestly?

May 29, 2011

The past few weeks I’ve been asking myself one question: Am I depressed?

Of course, this leads to further questioning. Does that fact that it’s largely situational change how I feel about it? Why am I unwilling to go to the doctor? Am I wanting to be in bed all the time because twin toddlers are fucking exhausting, or because of some other darker reason?

There’s a lot of stuff going on. My dad’s eyeball, my own pain and getting further info about treatment (wtf is a nerve block? Is this an awful thing that should be avoided? Exactly HOW MUCH cortisone can you inject into a body before natural production drops?), the clutter taking over our very small apartment, the realisation that we’ll probably never have a lot of money, my semi-desire to begin working again, being too tired to write, being trapped in the house most days….it goes on and on.

I am taking steps to try to sort things out. I’m in the midst of driving lessons (ugh, sigh, etc!) and my theory/written test is this coming Thursday. Once I’ve passed that, I can book for my actual driving test. I am continuing Bowen therapy on a vastly reduced scale (because, let me say it again, Bowen works. I cannot recommend it highly enough!). I have bought two Littlelife backpacks WHICH ARE THE BEST THING EVER so we may take more walks sans pushchair. Today we are putting things on freecycle, taking other stuff to charity shops, and dumping even more stuff at the tip. We’ve hired a nanny on Friday mornings for three hours, so I can get some help taking Snort and Coconut out for Fun Times.

I know this is all a stage in my life, this staying at home with two kids who are of an age that even when I CAN drive, I’ll be limited in where I can go alone with them. Hopefully my pain is only a stage too – my physical lows are not getting as low as they used to, though TMD points out that my highs are nowhere near a ‘normal’ person’s highs.

Soon I shall be driving, I hope. Soon they will be that little bit older which means life gets that little bit easier – going out more will help me. Maybe figuring out how to reintegrate my work as a counsellor, here and there – or even having the energy and desire to write in the evenings or naptime. I dream of dumping them at soft play while I sit at a table – like all the other zombie moms – and open my netbook.

I will keep working on being able to declutter, to somehow let things go even when it goes against my very nature. I will keep working on my weight, as I am back to the lowest weight I’ve been since giving birth.

The thing that makes me long for magic little pills is that there are so many other simple little things I can do – a five minute walk when TMD gets home. Fifteen minutes to write or blog. Drinking more water. I just don’t seem to have any motivation to do these things. I want to crawl into bed and watch Grey’s Anatomy or ER until my eyeballs bleed and I am a fully trained trauma surgeon.

I don’t know.

We shall see how things progress, but I think the first step is in realising I’m not as happy as usual. I feel awful even suggesting that being a stay at home mom is tough, is hard, is maybe too much for me right now. Because in another year or so WOW will it be fun! Hard, too, but fun. Less about being a nurse and cowboy/sheep herder on speed, more of being an explorer and fellow learner.

How have YOU guys been, anyway? I want you to know I am still reading everyone’s blogs, but on my phone – which, for some reason, won’t let me comment. The laptop is never on or open during the days anymore, I find I don’t have the time.

If you @ me on twitter (my name is, of course, ‘existere’) or comment here I will be able to see that stuff instantly. Likewise I am on facebook a lot (are you a bloggy friend? Tell me how to find you on there and I’ll more than likely friend you….reassure me you are not an axe murderer, though) and my email about 65 times a day.

If you’ll excuse me, though, I’m wearing my new frilly pink gingham apron. I bought it to help me be in the ‘on’ position during the day. And I am trying to dredge up the magical power to be able to declutter with TMD, so I’d best go.

Love to you all.

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Time to stop fucking around, methinks.

December 8, 2010

Sleeping post IS coming, but just needed to get this off my chest:

ARGH.

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH.

Ready to hear me whine? Because if not, I’ll be honest with you: skip this post and just read the next time I write. I won’t be offended. Honest.

It’s just that things are so bad, my pain is so bad, and I’m starting to feel my emotional health taking a dip. It’s the old fear about this being ‘it,’ that there is no recovery for me.

I had a relapse about four weeks ago, and it hasn’t gotten better. Now I’m in the week before my period and…oh. I may cry.

It’s so bad, guys. So, so bad.

Last night I had to go to the bathroom before bed, and I got fucking stuck sitting up on the edge of the bed. Literally could not move without ripping pain that was making me cry out – even though I was lip biting and trying to keep quiet. Tears were rolling down my cheeks, and I felt the urge to do ‘little kid crying’ – you know, big hiccuping gulping sobs.

I couldn’t walk. Again. Was unable to have any weight on an individual leg, so resorted to crutches and shuffling my feet along the floor. When I got into the bathroom, I couldn’t bend over to pick up the toilet lid. It was literal agony, and I think I can say with a fair degree of confidence that my pain tolerance is pretty fucking high – especially after dealing with chronic pain for the last two years.

I finally got the lid up, but the act of sitting down was like I was being stabbed by rusty knives in my lower back, my hips, my spine. I couldn’t stop crying.

This morning it’s not really any better. I’m back on a full dose of codeine and this other ‘super’ anti-inflammatory. It’s not doing anything. Or maybe it is – though I can’t imagine more pain than I am currently in.

This will go away, right? Last month I was so happy when I got my period, because that usually heralds some relief, but it just stayed.

I had gotten used to my new ability/disability levels. It was my new norm. This latest foray into ever deeper pain is really testing me, because it makes my usual chronic pain look like happy little sprites eating pizza on a rainbow. I feel like I have hit bedrock and begun to tunnel into the bedrock.

I can deal with pain as long as I can carry on with my ‘new normal.’ The problem is, this extreme pain is meaning I can’t do things.

When your child looks up at you and holds out their arms, wanting you to pick them up and hold them – and you cannot do it – oh, that hurts the worst of all.

Mash up. With no music, sorry about that.

November 6, 2010

What should I write about? The book I’m working on? All I can say on that topic is that my Inner Editor has been checked into a kennel for the month of November, as suggested by the wonderful NaNoWriMo book No Plot? No Problem!

Don’t feel too bad for my….oh, I just realised the initials are IE. That makes me feel sad because it has been years since I’ve used Internet Explorer due to the inherent suckage. Well, maybe the editor sucks, too. At least during the first draft. (Though I write an okay first draft, I think.)

I’ve been low, low, low this week. Part of that is that this is like the fifth week with random sicknesses, the dreaded time change, and evil molars. Part of that is an email I received from a friend. Someone I met on twitter, but someone I think I’d like to hang with in real life. At least she lives in my country, so there is a remote chance.

At any rate, she sent a gentle email questioning whether it was smart to have another baby. You know, what with the SPD.

I thank her for that. I appreciate it. It’s all too easy for me to breeze past things and forget how truly awful they were; it’s all too easy to pretend that the daily level of pain I have is ‘normal.’ Thought I guess it is, at least for me.

Still, this email has been rolling around and around in my mind. Hence all the Snickers eating, the wanting to do nothing but sleep, and the feeling like shit. (Internet friend, if you are reading, I have also just ovulated so that also contributes. I do not write any of this to make you feel guilty!)

But the question remains. Dare I risk a second pregnancy, when there is a lot at stake this time around? Namely, two little people who already depend on me.

I’m going to shy away from thinking about that at the minute.

My cheeks are a weird combo of cold and hot – we’ve just been in the park pushing the kids in the swings. I am unbelieveably tired, but the walk helped shift me from comatose to just exhausted. It’s sunny, the leaves are vibrant colours, and it’s not really that cold. A lovely combo.

So.

What else to say?

I’m listening to a Christmas radio station on lastfm. It’s kind of shit, so anyone out there who also likes to indulge in a little maudlin homesick holiday music on lastfm, do let me know a good station. And if you don’t know lastfm, I have just blown your mind. It is everything right with the world.

Anyway. I haven’t weighed myself for a few days. I was somehow managing to stay the same, but wonder if that has held out. I have so many things that seem like priorities, but the only real thing I want to do is curl up under my duvet and watch Friends.

Somehow, though, I doubt that goal will help me achieve a substandard living as a romance novelist (I’ll write more about this soon, if anyone wants to know more.), lose weight, or reply to any of the zillion emails I am so shit at responding to. I’ve read them all, people, and thank you for them. I am happy to have you all in my life. I just get a bit frazzled and overwhelmed sometimes.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m supposed to crack 10,000 words today and I’m only at 7,000. I’ve added a Nano word count page (look at the top right of my blog) for anyone geeky enough to want to follow along to see how much I’m writing daily. If only I could add blog posts into that count.

*waves*

Not yet.

August 28, 2009

Just read this article (linked midway through) and it made me both cry and feel better.

I am feeling incredibly down about this SPD pain and the effects it is having on my ability to care for my children. I thought I had felt glum about this during pregnancy, but I had no idea. Yesterday I woke up crying, cried throughout the day, and the middle of the night festivities culminated in me repeating, ‘I am rubbish, I am rubbish, I am rubbish’ over and over again. TMD has been hovering nervously, and she took the time to read the article about postpartum depression that the health visitor gives to all new parents.

To a certain extent, I believe I am having a normal reaction to a terrible situation. However, my ‘normal reaction’ is pretty horrid, and I need to take care to be mindful of my mental health. The study linked above mentioned the devestating effects SPD can have on mental health, and I can believe it.

I feel like I am missing all the normal parts of being a mother. I can’t change their nappies. I have difficulties holding them for long periods of time, and there is no chance of me picking them up and giving them a cuddle. I can’t carry them around. I could go on and on – it is getting pretty easy to fixate on the negative. Even things as simple as not being able to shift position in bed, meaning I can’t put them over my shoulder to burp them (both of their preferred positions).

I just sob and sob, apologising to them. To TMD. I feel like I am letting my babies down. All I want to do is cuddle and care for them, and I am just as stuck in one position as I was before, and if anything, things have gotten slightly worse. I have the ability to get myself on and off the couch/bed which is lovely, but due to the fact that I am no longer sporting a giant bump. The pain has not gotten better. I am on mega painkillers now, and it still hurts more than it did when I was pregnant. Next week I am getting a home visit from a physio, and you’d better believe I am not going to fuck around with their advice. Exercise? You got it. I’ll do whatever you say, ma’am, just make me get better.

I don’t want to stay like this.

It’s a bad limbo period. The babies are two and a half weeks old – I was warned I’d still have to have the crutches for a good few weeks, but right now I don’t know whether this is a normal part of recovery, or if I will be one of the freaky few who have SPD for a long time after birth. We often have more than one medical professional in the house at a time, and I am always being referred to like this – ‘Existere has very severe SPD.’  ‘Existere is incapacitated.’ ‘Existere has SPD, which is excruciating.”In extreme cases, women like Existere may need crutches.’ (Um, hello? A zimmer frame and wheelchair, bitches.)

The word ‘severe’ is used again and again, much more than it was when I was still pregnant. Maybe they expected me to rebound. A bitter part of me, looking for someone to blame, points to the fact that the morning after my c section, they made me walk through the ward, down the hall, and to the bathroom. Thanks to that experience, I passed out for the first time in my life, an alarm cord was pulled, and I had about six people to help me back off the toilet – and wipe me. And then back into a wheelchair. I should never have been expected to walk that far, and I should have stood up for myself.

I don’t know. I can’t look at the babies while they sleep (TMD is on my side of the bed, cot pulled up so it nestles to her) because I wouldn’t actually be able to shift position or respond quickly enough should there be a vomit alert.

I feel inept, useless, a burden. I feel I am letting my children down. I feel pointless, and useless, and in love with little babies I am not touching as much as I should. I almost find myself shying away from feeding them, because I feel it is one more area I will screw up (to the second degree, though you don’t know about that yet) or let them down.

My mother asks every day, surprise and worry in her voice, ‘You aren’t walking yet?’

No.

Remembering.

August 22, 2008

My grandmother died three years ago this past Wednesday. I was just flipping through my old diary, and found something I wrote very soon after her death:

I guess the thing that’s hard is that life goes on. I mean, that’s the beautiful and correct idea, and also the way my grandma would have wanted it to be.

I’ve been thinking about life going on this week. About how I no longer feel full of razors and pain every time I say her name outloud, and about how I find myself surprised to be able to mention her life and death and just feel…okay.

I think feeling okay with feeling okay is the biggest challenge. The me of three years ago was in a dark place – the funeral would be tomorrow, TMD was still in this country, and I was just – broken. I would return to this country to lay on my couch for two months straight, never moving, not going into work, crying constantly.

It was my grandmother’s death that finally pushed me into therapy, but only once I had healed enough to be able to move. I wish I could hug my self then, but I think it would hurt the me of right now too much.

I miss you, Grandma.

And if you want a hope of understanding where this diary may be heading. At least in regards to pee-pees and babies.

May 10, 2008

We’re moving two weeks from yesterday. I’m so excited, even though we are not even close to being packed, but I have a few worries. When I first moved to this country I was depressed for a good couple of years, at least. That didn’t really lift until I got Day Job and started figuring out how things worked. We lived in a nice little studio apartment – that I never left. I didn’t know how to travel around, I didn’t understand how the money worked, I had just moved away from all my family and friends and wasn’t sure when I would see them again.

TMD had classes or work most days. I had class one evening a week, and was not allowed to work. I didn’t have any friends or anything to do.

I worry a bit about moving, because here in The City I can go anywhere and do anything. I can take buses, trains, subways, boats, bicycle, or feet. Where we are moving, you really need to drive. Things are more spread out.

It’s nice because it means a nicer style of life, but I think about things like doctor’s appointments – how can I attend if I can’t drive? I am very focused on trying to get my license before the summer is up. I definately want it before baby-in-the-tummy time, when I’ll have other things to worry about.

In the meantime, I will continue reading Taking Charge of Your Fertility. This is possibly the most right on book about women’s reproductive health I have ever read. I think girls should be taught about how their bodies work from a young age. If you’re a woman, I’d strongly recommend you reading this – whether you are gay/bi/straight, trying for a baby, trying to avoid a baby, not having sex at all. It’s all about getting to know your body better and taking responsibility for your health.

Today is the first day of my period, but I didn’t get to take my temp this morning because I woke up at 3 to pee and never fell back asleep. I think I may need to set my alarm daily for a very early time to try to get some consistency. If you wonder why I need to take my temperature and what it has to do with my period, go get this book!!