Depression, part 1

I struggle with depression.

I have for years.

It's not the easiest thing to admit or talk about.  But there it is.

I didn't always know that's what it was.  Depression was such an ugly word.   Depression meant you were extremely sad and pathetic. You were at the brink of ending your life. You never laughed or smiled.  You saw no reason to go on. Depression was a death sentence.

I was none of those things, so I couldn't be fighting with depression.

I didn't know what to call it, but I struggled.

I blame some of the struggle on my over sensitive sense of empathy.  It's difficult for me to hear bad news because I immediately feel like I'm right in the middle of whatever is going on.  I'm not trying to sound like I understand everyone's pain in difficult situations.  Not at all.  But if I hear about a tragedy, or loss of life, or even something as simple as a person doing something that is embarrassing, my mind immediately relates to that situation as if I were the person being told the bad news, or whose face was turning red.  My gut turns, or my pulse races, or my head pounds.

I quit watching the news years before 9/11.  I always said that if something were bad enough, someone would call me.  My heart and my head just couldn't handle all the bad news.  And sure enough on 9/11, a friend called and said that I needed to know what was going on.

I didn't start taking anti-depressants until my ex-husband told me he wanted a divorce.  He told me on a Sunday evening and I was at a therapists office on Tuesday morning (first available slot she had) and had an anti-depressant/anti-anxiety prescription that afternoon.

The fact that I'm on meds is also not easy to admit.

I hated the fact that I started taking medication.  I also knew that I needed something to help me deal with the hurricane of emotions that the beginning of the end of my marriage brought flooding to the forefront of my brain.

And now, at least, my struggle had a name.

So now, four years of anti-depressants later, I'm still taking them and I still struggle.

The massive chaos of the breakdown of my marriage is over.  It's no longer the stomach churning, life shattering earthquake it once was.  There are still occasional after shocks, e.g., I live in Texas and two of my kids still live in Pennsylvania, not everything financially has been completely settled, and I'm still hurting for my kids, but the dust is beginning to settle.

I'm also starting over at 43 with no resume and very little job experience. I regularly question my ability to actually "adult" very well. And then I feel guilty that I struggle and get frustrated when I know others have it much worse that I.

It's worse in the mornings and when I'm very tired.  There have been days, when none of the kids were home, where I just couldn't get myself up out of bed.  It was a monumental task to just get up and get going.  Or days when I'd just rather sleep the day away than fight the heavy feelings that often weigh me down. Life just feels exhausting.

I don't struggle with suicidal thoughts.  That's not where my depression takes me.  I just feel tired, so very tired.  The everyday struggles of normal life wear on me, and fall so very heavy on my shoulders.  And often it's not even the struggles in my life.  It's hearing about the struggles in another's life.  Or better yet, worrying about the struggles my kids will face.

I'm not a worrier.  So I don't mean handwringing worrying about something bad possibly happening.  I mean like on a global scale sort of worry.   What kind of world are my kids inheriting? What sort of struggles will they and their children have to face because we, as a whole planet, are not doing a very good job of adulting in order to leave them a clear path forward?

I feel tired, tired of fighting.

I'm tired of fighting for peace and justice.  I'm tired of fighting for love.  I'm tired of fighting against hate.  I'm tired of fighting against the 1%.  I'm tired of fighting along side the other 99%.  I'm tired of fighting bigotry, and ignorance, and intolerance, and greed.

I am tired of fighting. It all makes me so very tired. I'm tired of thinking about all of it. I'm just tired. Did I mention that I'm tired?  Literally achy in my physical bones tired!

To quote in the good ole KJV I know "from whence cometh my help."

I just wish I didn't feel like I needed the help so damn much!

Sitting Uncomfortably

Been a weird week.  Emotionally, strange for me. I have been sitting with it, but not comfortably!

I guess I'm still adjusting to living back in my childhood hometown.  I'm about 5 miles out of a small town of 1300 or so people.  I haven't lived here since I was eighteen.  I moved away for college and only came back for a couple of months in the summers after my first two years of college.  It's a bit of an adjustment after being in the DFW area for 10+ years, followed by Los Angeles and then Philly.  It's a slower pace to be sure.  So there's that.

Then I'm also adjusting to being the full-time parent to just my youngest child.  The two big kids (my teenagers) chose to stay in Philly to be with their friends.  So the house is much quieter, and that is different. I"m still working through all those emotions.

And there is the physical fallout of multiple years of mounds of stress. My energy levels are not as good as they should be and my body aches just about all of the time. I need to be doing more yoga, but can't seem to generate enough drive to properly motivate myself into a consistent daily practice. And most recently the tendon in the crease of both of my elbows decided to start screaming at me if I decide to try to lift anything. I have a feeling it's the fact that my shoulders have been much too tight for far too long and the pain is just sliding down my arms into my elbows.  Next I'll be typing with my nose because I won't be able to move my fingers! I'm trying not to let the physical stuff worry me, but I don't always win that battle.

Plus I'm not at all used to dealing with any sort of physical limitation and it annoys the hell out of me!

And I'm also still learning how to be single. Or at least how to emotionally handle being single. I'm not sure that sentence even makes sense.  I was a kid, then a teenager, then a wife.  Yes, I was married at 19.  I was never a single adult. So now, as a 40+ year old gal, I'm learning all the things about single adulthood I should have learned years ago.

I was a wife for 21+ years.  All of my adult years were spent as a couple. I thought about life and planned for the future as a couple. I never imagined that I'd be single. Things in a marriage are not always perfect, but my philosophy was that you keep working on it and keep working on it.  Giving up was not an option.  So now that I find myself single in my forties I'm a bit at a loss.

It's weird and I don't even know if I can properly put into words the strangeness I feel. I don't really want to be in a relationship.  I cannot imagine trying to have the emotional energy to date and really get to know someone new right now.  It just sounds exhausting.

And I also enjoy my alone time.  I have never had trouble being by myself.  I can sincerely appreciate quiet down time with just me.

So I'm still working on putting my finger on just how I feel.  I guess there are things that pop into my head every now and then and I want to share them with someone and I don't have that certain someone.  Which doesn't really make sense because I have the most wonderful friends and family a person could ever want. I can reach out to many of them at any time and they respond.

Again, not sure I'm making sense.

I think I feel lonely in a new way that I've never really experienced. And I hate to even admit that feeling. I don't like to admit things that make me feel vulnerable. It's difficult for me not to see that as a weakness. I want to be strong and self-sufficient. But I guess I liked being somebody's "other half."  And even admitting that made my stomach turn a little bit. My brain says it sounds yucky and weak to admit that. And for some reason while I'm sitting here writing this I've started to cry.

So I sit with my single, emotional, physically tired, forty-something self. It's shit. It's real. It's me.

I'm trying really hard to like me right now. It's not easy.

Unsettled Summer

This summer has been challenging.  My youngest and I made the transition to Texas in June just after my oldest two finished the school year.  It was not an easy emotional process, leaving behind two of my three kids.  The big kids chose to stay in Pennsylvania for school and friends.  I chose to move to Texas for various reasons all due to the divorce. It was not an easy decision, but a necessary one.

I thought the most difficult part would be driving away, and it was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. I hoped it would be the last big hurdle to getting the divorce transition behind me, but there was another hurdle to come.

I found out a few weeks after I arrived in TX that my ex had been laid off from his job. This possibility was one of the reasons I chose to relocate. His job loss created some difficulty with things that were supposed to take place regarding the house in PA.  The big kids wanted to stay in the house so he was in the process of getting it out of my name.  This came to a halt with the job loss situation.  And so begins another difficult transition for my big kids as they have to move again.

They have been troopers through all of this transition.  I never wanted them to have divorce drama to deal with along with the natural drama that comes with teenage years.  My heart was broken many times over when I was unable to save my marriage and my family.  Kids should just get to be kids and not have to worry about their family falling apart.  It was ridiculously painful for me watching them go through this and not being able to protect them from the pain.

I had hoped that things would start to settle down for all of us.  The little one and I were finally settling in here and the big kids were adjusting to life there.  And now they have to deal with more uncertainty.  They was a lot of drama surrounding this news for the kids, drama that was out of my control.  There was a lot of anger directed towards me that could have been prevented if the situation had been handled better on the other end of things.  But that is out of my control and I have to work on dealing with their feelings and frustrations as best I can.

Needless to say I've spent a lot of time in prayer and meditation.  The prayer is for them to see the truth even when it seems cloudy or hidden, and for them to have the wisdom and emotional strength to deal with the uncertainty.

The meditation has allowed me to sit with all of the chaos and frustration and anger and resentment and hurt and fear.  It hasn't exactly been pleasant, to say the least. But I'm trying not to run and hide from the feelings. I'm trying to take each day as it comes and continually be aware of my breath.  I'm paying attention to the good and the bad.  Trying to let go of the bad and relish the good.  I don't want to miss joy because I'm too wrapped up in frustration or sadness.  Sometimes it's just a moment of joy: a lost tooth, a wildflower handed to me by a grimy little hand, a splash in the pool as the little one learns to dive. But I want to be present.  I don't want to miss the happy moments.

I will say that I'm ready for things to settle down.  The stress has taken it's toll on me physically and that concerns me. My body gets achy much too easily and my energy levels are much lower.  Again, trying not to worry and just breathe. I have much for which I am grateful, and I am working on putting those thoughts more to the forefront of my mind.

Summer will pass soon enough. I will find all the good memories and hold on to those.

Big Girl Face

I'm packing and getting everything ready for the big move.  My body is achy and my right knee will be thrilled to never have to climb stairs again.  The trailer will arrive today between noon and 4:00. I plan to use the dolly my neighbor lent me to start toting boxes out.  Saturday, with the help of a few friends, we'll load all the big stuff.

The basement is finished with only a couple of boxes waiting to be brought upstairs.  I finished the attic yesterday with my littlest's help. My room is done along with my littlest's room.  All of those boxes are down stairs, minus one, and stacked in the garage.  The kitchen is almost completed, aside from the cookware I use everyday, one coffee cup, and a few dishes for daily use.  Now on to the laundry room and to finish up in the garage.

So I'm keeping myself busy and trying to stay focused on the task at hand.

Aside from packing I've been able to spend some quality time with my big kids too.  We all played the game Headbands the other day.  The youngest one had the best time, laughing and gawking at the various things her siblings were trying to guess they were.

I watched my middle one learn to use the riding lawnmower and mow my yard at Mach 1.  It was hilarious and wonderful to see her grinning and singing along to the song in her head as she whizzed by me on the mower.

My oldest sat down on the couch beside me the other day and picked up his sister's guitar.  He strummed and sang a song he's teaching himself.  It's a funny (barde type) morbid tale of revenge and he sang and played it so well. I didn't realize how much he had learned on the guitar.

Lots of great moments in this final week with all my kids.

So along with the laughter and smiles, I've been dealing with random outbreaks of tears, which currently blur my eyes as I'm trying to type.  As I watched my middle Nascar the lawn, I smiled and cried.  I listened to my oldest sing and play and couldn't hold back the tears.

I don't want to miss my kids.

I moving and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt it's the right step for me.

But I don't want to miss my kids.  I don't want to live without all of them just yet.

They have good friends with good families and for this I am extremely grateful.  Their father is attentive and a good provider.  They have chosen to stay with their friends and their schools and I understand their choice, but it's god-awful difficult.

I play tricks on my mind saying it's like boarding school.  And this helps some.  However boarding school is something I would never have chosen on my own.

My oldest noticed that I was tearing up the other day when he was playing and singing.  He paused and asked if I was alright.  I told him I was, because it was true.  I am alright.  I also told him that I really enjoy hearing him play.  Then I laughed and said that sometimes I want to snap his father in half.  He laughed with me and then continued his song of revenge.  :)

When he was done, he put the guitar down and gave me a big hug.  He asked again if I was ok.  I told him that I really was ok. I also told him that he would have to facetime me at least once a week and fill me in on his life.  He promised he would.   I said that I'm putting on my "Big Girl" face and we'll get through it.

Then I quickly got back to work, singing a line from the song he'd recently finished, before he saw the tears come streaming again.

I want them to know that I will miss them and that this is difficult for me, because I love them so very much. I want them to know how much they mean to me.  But I don't want them to worry.

Not once in my teen years did I ever have to worry about my parents emotional well-being.  My parents were at every event, camera in hand, cheering me on and supporting me in every endeavor.  They were a constant and I am forever grateful.  I want my kids to be kids while they still can.  I don't want them to worry or fret about me.

I am wearing my big girl undies and I'll put on my big girl face.  I want them to see love, compassion, kindness, concern, and strength.  It's not about shielding them from my pain, but about showing them how to deal with $h!t and keep your heart open and your head held high.

I hope that's what they learn from me. 

Big girl face on and here we go.

Tidal wave

My last quiet time was a mess.  

It started out pretty normal.  Sitting quietly in my usual spot.  Fan humming softly in the background.  My breath steady and calm.

The first 10 minutes or so were relatively quiet.  A random thought about the upcoming day would pop up and then drift away.  Another to-do floats by.  I notice it and let it pass.

Then all hell breaks loose.

I'm working with mindfulness and being present with whatever comes up.  I'm trying to be fully present in the moment and just notice the thoughts and feelings.  "What is coming up for you?" is a question I hear often in my quiet time.

What came up out of no where this time was a full blown tidal wave of grief.  

One moment I'm sitting, breathing, noticing the ground beneath me, the fan humming beside me, the cool air on my skin.  The next moment there are tears streaming down my face. There is a deep, almost burning, pain in my throat as it suddenly swells and I feel like I have to struggle to breathe. My entire being is overwhelmed by a sadness so strong and so deep and so very real that it takes everything in me to just keep breathing.

My heart feels like someone has it in an iron grip trying to wring every last drop of blood out of it, twisting and wringing it excruciatingly in opposite directions.  My pulse quickens as my heart desperately tries to escape.

I am suddenly swimming in a dark whirlpool of chaotic grief.

In just a little over two weeks my family will change again in a very real way.  First (two years ago) it was the divorce and now (in two weeks) it's my move.  My youngest and I will be moving to Texas and my two bigger kids are staying here in Philly.  

This is a decision which I have agonized over for a very long time.  I have spent so much time in prayer and thoughtful consideration talking this over and over again with the many wise counselors (family and friends) in my life.   The consensus has been that the move is what is best for me and my kiddos (originally it included all of my children, until the eldest two made the decision to stay here with their dad).

I knew their choice to remain here was a possibility.  It will be my oldest's senior year.  So I kind of guessed he might stay.  My middle has decided she wants to stay with her friends here rather than move.  

Once I made the final decision to move I felt a very real peace about it.  And in spite of their choice to stay here, I still know without a doubt that I'm making the right choice.  But that knowledge doesn't help me process through the overwhelming feelings of sadness that I'm drowning in.

I want to run away from it more than words can ever begin to explain.  

I don't want to worry about planning custody schedules and visitation. I don't want to be able to easily count out how many days in the year I'll spend with them. 

I want my family to just be a family.  Together.

I want to hear the backdoor slide open in the afternoon and get to holler, "Hey babe!  How was school?" and hear my middle one answer, without thinking that in another week or so I will never do that with her again.

I don't want to miss the minute of conversation I get with my son between the time he gets in from school and before the video game gets started.  It's only a minute, but I never take it for granted.  And next school year I won't have that. I wanted one more year.

My heart broke when my marriage ended.  And now my heart is breaking again.  

I keep feeling like I've honored and given space for all of these emotions to rise to the surface.  I keep hoping that this tear is the last tear.  Then the tidal wave happens again. 

I am a mom.  I always wanted to be a mom. I love being a mom.  I knew my kids would eventually go off on their own.  I knew we would not always live under the same roof.  This is just SO not the way it was supposed to happen.

So as the sadness swirls and crashes around me I will do my best to stay afloat.  I'm drenched in tears and my chest is so very, very heavy. I am working, struggling, to just be present in the moment.  But when the present is so painful this shit gets awful difficult to sit with.

Today I sat with Broken Promises

Broken promises.

Today as I sat during my quite time this phrase kept popping up.

I noticed how this affected me most through tension I felt from the tightness in my neck, the clenching in my jaw and the heavy weight on my hunched shoulders.

It's strange how my shoulders can feel so heavy and still find their way to hang out with my ears all at the same time.  Sometimes I feel like I'm slowly morphing into the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

I took a deep breath and tried to straighten my posture a bit to relieve some of the pain.  I took another breath and settled in.

Broken promises.  The words just keep bouncing around.

In preparation for the move I've been sorting through piles of papers and a few old boxes in the attic. Multiple times I've come across old anniversary cards or birthday cards that I received from my ex.  I have not taken time to read through all of them. Honestly I've only glanced inside a couple of them and then only for a moment.  The handwriting is all too familiar and the words are all to lovely.

Each time I would notice tears coming to my eyes.

I don't really miss him anymore.  I have dealt with that specific part of this already.  I am comfortable being by myself now and familiar with the idea of being a single adult. Missing him is not where the tears come from.

Broken promises.

That seems to be the specific thing I'm having trouble working with. I don't even know that I fully understand it myself.  I don't miss my ex, but I'm still brought to tears when I am reminded of the love he had for me and the loss of future dreams. I find it baffling and rather irritating.

Over the weekend my ex stopped by to pick up my youngest for a few hours.  When he dropped her back off he asked about getting copies made of all the photo albums and scrapbooks I'd made over the years. Of course I had already put them all in boxes for the move.  He asked to take the boxes, make copies, repack, and return them.

I showed him where they were stacked in the garage and he loaded them into his car.  He'll bring them back. I'm not worried about that.  But the whole process was extremely difficult and infuriating for me.

The thought I had was, "Why does he care about having the pictures? This is what he threw away." And the child in me didn't want to share, didn't feel like he deserved his share.

As he drove off I found myself standing in the laundry room crying, tears streaming down my face.  I was not really sure why I was angry and crying, but there I stood, snot and all.

I have not been able to look at the old photo albums much since all of this began. They all held such wonderful memories that now seem tainted.  The few moments I have looked at an album I notice that instead of reminding me of all the fun moments that were captured, all I see is how it feels fake and shallow now.  

Broken promises.

We were a family.  We were always supposed to be a family.  I have grieved the loss of my partner, but somehow the loss of my family still breaks my heart.  He broke promises to me, to us, to all five of us.  I'm crying now as I write this, and I'm angry that I'm crying.

I'm so ready to be over all of this.  I don't want to sit with these feelings.  I don't want to feel the pain.  I don't want to notice anything about any of this.  I don't want to wipe any more snot from my face.  I'm tired of crying.

I don't want to have broken promises. I didn't break them and I can't put them back together.

I'm not the Hunchback.  I'm Humpty Dumpty.

And did I mention, I'm tired.

Embarrassed

Embarrassed.

That's the feeling I notice the most lately.

I continue to practice my daily quiet time.  Nine times out of ten I sit quietly in the early morning.  I wake one or both of my big kids up for school (depending on who is here or at their dad's) and then I take my usual spot for my quiet time.

I sit.  I breathe. I listen.  I pay attention. I notice.  I breathe.

This morning and the last few mornings I find my thoughts drifting to my divorce.  I am getting ready to move back to Texas in mid-June and I guess the preparation and packing is stirring up a lot of emotions.  And one of the feelings that just keeps lingering is the feeling of embarrassment.

I feel it in my chest and gut as I sit in my quiet time.  It feels like an uppercut sucker punch right to the pit of my stomach.  You know the kind that totally knocks the breath right out of you, leaves you gasping for air, and trying not to vomit all at the same time.

I want to run from the feeling, to escape and just be left alone.  I want that desperately, but I'm practicing mindfulness so instead I'm working on sitting with the difficult feeling. And work is certainly the proper word.

Hello Embarrassment.  So this is how I'm feeling today.

I'm embarrassed that I'm divorced.  I'm embarrassed that my marriage failed. I'm embarrassed that I trusted someone so completely and they let me down, and that maybe I let them down too.  I'm embarrassed that I couldn't keep things from falling apart.

I'm embarrassed that people talk and wonder about it.  I know most people are busy enough with their own lives that mine doesn't really matter a lot to them.  I know that. But I also know that when someone hears about a couple breaking up they wonder what happened (even if only for a couple of minutes of conversation).  Still they wonder, and I'm embarrassed that my marriage has been included in one of those conversations.

I'm embarrassed that my ex couldn't handle his mid-life crisis without blowing my family to bits.  I know this is my story.  I know he has his own story to tell.

I'm familiar with the saying, "In divorce there are three sides to every story. His side. Her side.  And the truth."  I know my story. I know I didn't want my marriage to end.  I know one person alone cannot make a marriage work.  If your partner wants to walk away there is not much you can do to stop them, and believe me I tried.

It's been two years since my ex moved out.  Two years.  And I'm still wading through all these stinking emotions.  Put your boots on people, there's a lot of shit to get through.  I'm embarrassed that I'm still knee deep in all this emotional shit.

So I'm sitting with embarrassment. It's uncomfortable. It's exhausting. It's nauseating. It's infuriating.

I breathe and way down beneath all the shit I also know there is a tiny seed of hope. I know this more than I feel it right now, but it's there.

I breathe and I know I'll be alright.  I know life goes on.  I know shit makes great fertilizer, but it also stinks to high heaven.

I breathe.  I breathe in embarrassment.  I breathe out hope.  I breathe in embarrassment.  I breathe out forgiveness.  I breathe in embarrassment.  I breathe out acceptance.

I breathe.

I'll let you know when the shit turns into flowers.