This has been sitting in my drafts folder for quite some time now. Probably a good five weeks of it waiting to be edited and published for my gazillion...ok, five followers. There has been a lot going on over the past eight days and that has changed my perspective. But I will save that story for another post.
To say I have been in a funk (and not the good kind of Funk), since Big B left, is an understatement. I have been in the weeds quite a bit lately trying to get control over my house, single parenting, purchasing and repairs done on an investment house on the other side of the country and finding a place to live in our new duty station, three colds and one hurt back. Yes, I know. Some of those reek of first world problems. I finally had to pull the rip cord and admit it. Hi, my name is Laura and I am depressed. Then you say, as in true 80's Sunday night TV movie where the mom alcoholic finally goes to rehab and admits she has a problem, "we love you Laura." --I know you are probably only 25 and do not have any clue what a Sunday night TV movie is. But there was an awesome one with an alcoholic mom/daughter, I don't remember. Her name was Pat and she finally went to AA. She said "I'm Pat and I'm an alcoholic." Everyone in group responded with "we love you Pat." That was a joke between my mom and sister and me for years. I love you Pat. It would make us roll with laughter. But I digress...--
I had the epiphany that my depression was far gone with a couple of different things happening to me : 1) A week or so ago, someone asked me how I was doing and if I had anyone to help. I told her that I did not have family nearby. She said, no I mean anyone? I was not sure what to say. Should someone be helping me? I am just a big old loser with no help, or is it that I did not ask for any? I am not good at asking for help anyway, and I do not see that changing anytime soon. The conversation was relatively benign. But the expression on her face really stuck with me and the fact that I cried for at least one hour afterwards was my first indicator that I should probably be on meds of some sort. 2) The second thing that happened was someone asking me how I was doing. I said, fine, but my faking it voice was not fully tuned up for the day. However I said it must have sounded bad because the person touched my arm and said "ohhhh". Like the I feel very sorry for you and I think you are actually going to fall over type of "ohhhh." Truth: I did feel like I was going to fall over and I almost started to cry again. Seriously, enough of the waterworks.
I think crying at a drop of hat and feeling mentally beat down are decent signs that I need to take a step back and get my act together. This pit is not new for me. It has happened several times before and happened after I had the three-footer and toothless wonder. It is difficult to admit you are feeling emotionally unbalanced. Let's face it, people really can be Judgy McJudgersons often. There was a time over a month ago that I was having problems getting dinner to the girls on time. They were not starving, I assure you. Our sit down dinner was just always late. I mentioned it a handful of people. Whether they realized it or not, their first reaction was always a look of ugh, with a mouth twist, and/or eyebrow raise. Really? Really? That shut down the L feelings share factory.
Things have been rough with Big B gone. I am not asking for a medal or anything. I am doing what I get paid for. I am not asking for a constant string of high fives. I am not asking for a constant string of help. In life, everyone has their own sack of shit to carry. I know that and I do not expect anyone to carry mine. I only need people to know that sometimes I cry while carrying the aforementioned sack of shit. I guess all I wanted was to stand up in my virtual group therapy session, say it and then hear everyone say "we love you depressed one." Now let's go get the free coffee and donuts.
Wait until you read the next posting. The girls and re-enact the movie Contagion. It is riveting.
Thanks for reading.
LL
I wish I was still in NoVA so I could help out in some way--I've yet to have to deal with two on my own (thank you sweet 8 lb, 7 oz baby jesus!) so I can only imagine what you're going through right now. Sending you lots of virtual hugs and wine your way. :D
ReplyDeleteI feel the same way! I wish we lived nearby, I'd never judge a late dinner, my kids would be confused and ask "what is that thing the food is on and why isn't it made of paper?!?" chin up friend! You got this!!
ReplyDeleteFirst off, I love reading your posts and I'm so glad you take the time to publish this heartfelt goodness, even if it's sad, because I bet it's therapeutic for you anyway. But oh honey, I'm sorry you are on your own with such a full plate right now. We are going to get you some dinner relief very soon! and I'd never ever judge a late meal...do you remember what a very hot mess I was last August when I totally lost it on more than one occasion, bra-less and greasy-haired on my front porch with you and Mary?! Helllllo Reno 911. 'Dinner' was a very loose term for us then, and looking back I felt guilty admitting the sad state of meals, the house, my own emotional instability...but I think it's silly that I did because really if you can't be vulnerable in front of your friends, then well, they aren't true friends.
ReplyDeleteI for one am completely in awe that you and the girls make it out of the house as often as you do...it honestly inspires me because I think to myself that if you can do it on your own, that I should make my best attempt too because I have help here at home and I don't have the mountain of responsibility you've had this Spring. I think you're 100% entitled to whichever coping methods you prefer with the end goal being to survive. I wish there was more I could do to help besides meals, but you know your MOBATs have your back and you are in our thoughts. Please come over to sit on my couch, tip back a beer, have a good cry, and be not judged.