Depression with Anxiety

November 21, 2016 I went to the doctor. I was get so unbelievably irritable for the smallest things, my anxiety was through the roof, and my sleeping was all jacked up.

November 21, 2016 I was diagnosed with depression with anxiety.

I started medication for it. Obviously, we started with a small dose. What people don’t tell you about these kinds of medications is that it can take about 6 weeks to even start noticing anything. So, to begin with, I felt like it was a waste. Once it kicked it, which it finally did, I was really actually feeling happy. It was nice, but I did have some negative side effects too. So, my doctor switched my medications around mid-January 2017.

Transitioning between the two was not good at all. I had MAJOR mood swings, and I mean rage, to curled in a ball crying, to gleeful in a matter of seconds.

The second medication seemed to do okay. I was happy and no noticeable side effects.

But you see, I really hate pills. I suck at remembering anything on a daily basis. Plus, unlike every other human in the world, I can’t just take my pills with a drink. I have to place it on the back of my tongue and sort of push it down. It isn’t pleasant and it makes taking a medication not that easy. I was good with taking my medications for a while. I was going to counseling and realizing I had more issues than I really ever wanted to admit

Mid 2017, I started missing days. I never really noticed anything. I would miss one here, two there, but I didn’t get any of the effects that people said I would if I missed or even any of the effects I had when I simply switched medications.

Fall break is when I changed, my counselor, who was through a college practicum clinic, obviously was going to be out. Two weeks, no counseling. I felt abandoned by the person who was helping me once again [a little bit of back-story, I had been to counseling before in 2015 and after a month my counselor told me she was leaving]. Our last session before the break, we got to some stuff I really wasn’t ready to deal with. We parted ways.

I never went back. I completely stopped taking my medications. It’s been probably six months now. I’m nothing compared to before meds or counseling, but I’m not as happy as I was with them either. I’m existing. I have good days, weeks, followed by bad days, and even weeks.

Sadness, hopelessness, and intrusive thoughts are what I’m use to, though, so this is my normal.

 

A Full Night

Yesterday, I was such a grump. I had only had two hours of sleep the night before due to the children waking up several times throughout the night, you know, normal parent stuff.

The kids also didn’t nap yesterday. I needed a nap.

I put the kids to bed at 8 pm. I was dozing off while waiting to put them down. I was exhausted.

After I put them to bed, my husband and I went to lay down. Then we made the mistake of putting on a show I was actually interested in. I no longer felt tired. 

I think I fell asleep around 9:30. Maybe. I remember getting up a couple times. Twice with A and once with D. But other than that, I slept wonderfully!

D woke up at 6 this morning but just requested his Power Rangers movie to be turned on and laid back down. I went back to bed. A woke up at 7:30. So I got tons of sleep and I feel fantastic! 

Insult

I use to never get insulted. If anything, I would get my feelings hurt, but I didn’t get insulted. That is, until I saw an article about parenthood.

In this article, it outline a scenario where a mother was in a grocery story with just her and her children. What is said to them by a passerby? Wow, looks like you have your hands full. Even if the kids are behaving. Just having multiple children on our own means you have your hands full. I never really noticed it, but I thought the article made a point. Now imagine, a father out with the kids on his own. What do people say to him? Look at you, you are such a great dad! Oh, okay.

People praise fathers for taking care of their children. It doesn’t really make sense.

I completely forgot this article for a few months, until I was out with my two children at the grocery store. My son likes to talk to people, I don’t really mind it as long as he stays with me. I like that he is kind. Both of my children were behaving, not crying or being loud in anyway. D decided to say hi to this older gentleman. Older people always tend to chat with the kids. He responds to D and looks at me and that’s when I finally noticed, “You have your hands full, don’t you?”

Of course I chuckled and was like “yeah, just a little.” But really, somewhere inside, I was insulted by it. Whose place is it to tell me that I have my hands full? Why can’t you just say I have a cute family? Or that I am doing a good job? Or that my children are behaving nicely?

But instead, my hands are full. And full hands means a full heart.

 

Fear

What scares you?

When I was younger, my answer was the typical “clowns, spiders, and ghosts.” But that is not what scares me now.

Clowns -and any type of mascot, really- are still super creepy, but I don’t fear them. I will avoid them at all costs though. Spiders, sure. Who likes them? But they aren’t scary. I’m the designated spider-getter in the family. They give me the heebie-jeebies, but no one else will take care of it. Ghosts. I don’t really think I’m scared of them, but I don’t like the unknown or unexplained.

My biggest fear is death. I don’t like the idea of simply no longer existing. Everything just ends. Darkness. Becoming compost. I’m no-one important so once I die, I’ll be forgotten shortly thereafter. This doesn’t mean my life goal is to be something great, because I know it won’t happen. I don’t want to live forever either, that would be miserable. I just don’t want to die.

My second biggest fear is cancer. I’m not really sure about this one. You can literally get cancer of anything, from anything. Plus I’m a bit of a hypochondriac. That doesn’t help any.

My third fear is that I will fail as a mom. That my children will grow up to not be decent human beings. That somewhere along the lines I did something wrong and messed them up horribly.

Anything else I’m “scared” of aren’t really fears, I would say. Like, I don’t like heights, but I wouldn’t call it a fear of mine, I just don’t like them. I still ride roller-coasters. I ride in planes, I just would never jump out of one.

 

Just Say No-Maybe-Sure

This prompt was to talk about the power I felt when I told someone no. I don’t ever feel powerful when saying no. I hate it. It makes me sick to my stomach. I instantly fill with regret.

I hate confrontation. I hate causing any friction in a relationship, be it my spouse, family, or friends. I even feel inclined to say yes to people I’m not close with. I’m a people pleaser. It’s a huge downfall for me.

“Is it okay to go?”

No, I want you to stay home with me. “Yeah, that’s fine. Go and have fun.”

So many scenarios play out like this in my life. I can’t even remember the last time I really said no to anything. But I’m sure when I did, I didn’t feel empowered by it.

 

Frustration

Frustration, for me, is a difficult emotion. And anger. And generally any negative emotion. I don’t handle it well.

As stated in a previous post, I use to self-harm in high school. Once this process starts, it is a thing. The thought never leaves your mind. Sure, from when I stopped in high school -thanks to literally my friends and family checking all the time- to a few months ago, I was good. Maybe six months ago though, something clicked in my brain while I was bored. Bored.  It started the cycle again.

I would self-harm when sad, mad, frustrated; any time I needed something in my life to help through the feelings. I harmed in some way maybe every other day for a few weeks. It was slowly getting worse. Finally, I decided no harming. At least nothing that would leave me with mark.

From then to now, it is still a constant struggle to keep it out of my head. Now, when upset I twist the skin on my wrist, I hit my leg, or I scratch myself with my non-existent nails. Even then, I try to keep it at a minimum.

But last night, last night something was not right in my mind. Both children were up multiple times and I was up until 3 am with no sleep until I completely lost my shit. A was up and screaming. She had already been up 4 times and I really just wanted sleep at this point. I was letting her cry, hoping she would just lay back down. Finally, A gets up and starts knocking on her door. Mind you, she doesn’t have a sissy knock like a 2 year old should, she knocks like an angry military man that is hunting you down after you went AWOL. So I got up, went to her room, and unfortunately, I yelled at her and swiftly sat her back down on her bed.

No matter how angry or frustrated I am, I would never hurt my children. Just going off on her made me feel bad. I close her door and briskly walk back to my bed where I climb up and take my thumb nail down my thigh a swift three times. Then I start crying.

“Why can’t I do this?”

“Why am I such a bad mom?”

“What am I doing wrong?”

I took a few deep breaths. A is still crying in her room. I was feeling bad and exhausted; it was 4 am and I hadn’t had a wink of sleep. So, I sat with her. I sat and watched her watch TV.

A didn’t go to sleep until her brother was awake and we moved into his room at 6 am. Thankfully, I got maybe two hours of sleep, but I still feel so angry. It’s the kind of angry I can feel in my whole body.

And that’s when I really want to self-harm. To release that feeling. To be free from my frustration.

 

Lonely – ABC Poem

Always feelings lonely,
But never actually alone.
Children run around me,
Dancing to each song.
Every other person,
Finds some peace within somewhere.
Granted they also
Hide behind some walls.
I need my walls
Jetting high above
Keeping me safe,
Leaving me alone.
Many don’t know me.
No, I prefer seclusion
Opposed to getting close.
Promises get broken,
Quietly, I cry.
Relationships are not vital
Since people always leave.
Time will only tell how
Unfortunate I am.
Valuable, I’m not,
When will others take the cue?
Xysts, like I,
Yearn for some attention,
Zagged around again.