Wistful but lucky... Depression and two kiddos...

I really want to get back to writing. I miss having a creative outlet.

Just wanted to get some feelings down now, but Baby X has consistently woken from his nap whenever I have opened up Blogger.

Here goes nothing.

With Baby X over a year now, it's kind of crazy. I know I have love in my heart for more kids, but realistically I don't think I could handle more. My depression and anxiety just can't seem to be managed well. Exercise helps with the "big feelings" as I call them around here, but I've been sidelined with the worst back injury of my life since mid June and it's crushing my spirit (and my disc, too).

I was driving back from errands today, Kiddo D at a camp and Baby X briefly calm in his seat. It was a respite from his shrieking and my negotiating in the stores and the parking garage. My sunglasses were cloudy and smudged with tiny fingerprints. Baby X loves to pull off my shades and then forcefully "put them back on for Mommy" which entails jamming the arms into my mouth/nose/eyes and holding them there. It's cute. It's silly. It makes every pair bend and smudged.

I smiled. And I haven't been doing that much these days.

He doesn't sleep well. It's been getting better, but I'm still exhausted most mornings... hell, most days, all day. My coffee intake has skyrocketed in the most literal sense. I go through coffee beans like a newborn and diapers. Or a toddler with toilet paper. Or a kindergartner with liquid soap or toothpaste.

I thought that at this stage in the game I would have had a better handle on two kids. That I'd be less bitchy and have found more of a rhythm, as the saying goes. Mind you, miracles don't happen, so I'll ALWAYS be part bitch, but... ya know, less grumpy and quick to go off on Kiddo D.

Not sure if I have mentioned here before, but antidepressants seem to make me incredibly sick. I have multiple chronic conditions, including one that holds medication sensitivity as a symptom. I've done enough therapy to teach classes and write hardcover books. I mean, the classes would suck and the books wouldn't sell, but I COULD probably do it. There is essentially a holding pattern of sticking through it all, but no real improvement in sight. Not here, not in the horizon, not in the far-distant future. And that's sad. I used to think apathy was so lame... giving up. But there are certain realizations I have made now that just ARE. I'm certain my mood and anxiety will ebb and flow. There will be better days and weeks and months, and the not-so-great ones. I wish there were a magic pill that would help it... reduce it... perk me up. But I have tried almost all of them. NO JOKE. My file is a thick one, spanning decades and provinces. I am a health insurance company's worst nightmare.

But the physical side effects are intolerable. Not even just the first few weeks. It seems to get worse the longer I am on the medication, and then coming off of it it just HORRIFIC. Brain zaps and nausea and wishing death would make it stop because it's so physically uncomfortable and debilitating.

I tried a bunch of meds when Kiddo D was a baby and toddler. I was always feeling sick. It was no way to live.

Now, I have two kids to take care of, so feeling physically ill every day, even if my mood is slightly elevated, is not worth that trade off. Exercise is my best tool, but it's a tough balance between overdoing it and feeling more exhausted, and moving enough to put a dent in the stress hormones and anxiety.

I hope my kids don't look back and think I was a fool for not medicating. That my prissiness and short temper aren't a life sentence for both of them for therapy. I keep trying to be more patient and less RAGE-FACE with Kiddo D. I don't know that I am succeeding.

I always have brain fog, I can't focus, I'm SO SO SO sensitive to noise. It makes the agitation go to unbearable levels. I want to give Kiddo D my attention, but Baby X is NEEEEEEDY and curious and gets into EVERYTHING. I can't look away. So I hope, in my heart, that as he gets less motivated to kill himself at every given opportunity, that some semblance of giving both kids equal attention will come to be.

He's awake now. I should go.

But I do want to say... I am grateful. I am grateful I have these two wonderful, healthy, intense children. I am grateful I get to spend my time with them. I wish I could be a better version of myself. It's so sad to be in therapy and uncover all the layers and layers of shit you were subjected to as a child. For the therapist to say that you're doing incredibly well considering what you're dealing with. But to still fall short in so many ways.

I love my family with all of my cracked, duct-taped, dusty heart. I enjoy the moments when I can make them laugh. So so so deeply. I want to enjoy these days as much as I can. I want to be there for them emotionally - support them POSITIVELY, ask about their day, about their feelings, be able to focus and HEAR what they are saying, and often what they aren't saying, too. Sincerely. I don't want them to act in a false way to make me happy. I need to embrace the fact that they are their own little people. It's so hard. And we model what we know from when we were little. I have so much unlearning and so much learning to do...

I hope I figure it out for their sake... and soon.

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The End of Nursing My Toddler?

A few nights ago, we'd had an okay day, but I was so grumpy. All the posts I've failed to finish on here have been about my health trials and tribulations since last June. Injury, illness, injury, illness, surgery gone wrong, more illness, then another illness. I was feeling the worst of last said illness.

This last illness is mastitis. Pretty sure it was from my new venture of trying to learn to run properly (as opposed to the clusterf*ck that was me trundling through a half-marathon in September without adequate training...) with my new sports bras. Those puppies squished the girls so much, my milk ducts on ole righty decided to reply with anger and pain. For those unaware, mastitis is basically a brutal boob infection.

The chemical content can change in breast milk during mastitis and the baby/toddler may not like the taste of the milk. While this was surely happening with Baby D, I also felt pretty sure she was approaching self-weaning from my milk. I decided 2 years ago that I would let her decide when to stop nursing, but I felt this sad dread that those moments of our lives would be over soon.

But I digress.

On antibiotic #2 for mastitis, I was so so bloody tired and run down.
Weak, with no patience.
That night I realized all I had done was criticize and basically be a bitch to Baby D all day. I crawled into her bed while she slept so beautifully... so peacefully. I looked at her angelic face and her tiny nostrils flaring, ever so gently, and realized that she doesn't deserve the wrath of my health woes. She didn't ask me to start running, or to lose weight or do anything other than be her mommy. But yet she gets the brunt of my bad mood and short temper when I am once again down and out.

I cried. Like a real little bitch. True sobbing, but the kind a mom does so no one can hear. Like holding a tornado inside of your body. I shook her pillow unintentionally. She roused slightly as I stroked her face and hair. I planted a kiss on her tiny forehead and thought about how she will master this world, that no one can or should keep her down (most of all, ME), that she is going to do incredible things in her lifetime, and I thought of how pure and wonderful and HAPPY she is. And that this would be the last night I put my 2 year old to bed. Maybe the last time my little toddler would nurse had already happened.

I felt sad and scared of the world, yet full of love.

As if sensing my upset, do you know what my fiery little snowflake did, as if on cue?
She dug her finger so far into her nostril that I'm certain she found gold.

AND IT WAS BRILLIANT.
It was what I needed. A reality check. A slap of BE HERE NOW, WOMAN!
And I giggled. Watching her pick her nose in her sleep was just utterly perfect.

It doesn't need to be all about my pre-disposition-to-all-things-depressed-and-extremely-anxious.

It was so cute and fitting.

She rallied up there for a while, then her hand fell back down on the pillow beside my face. Gawd I love her. I left her room with a smile.

I realized that she's going to keep close to me and keep me on my toes, no matter what comes our way. Not much I can do on the health front... I'm trying my best. I just have to remember to keep trying. And remember that she'll be 3, and her place in this world matters far less to her right now than boogers.

And it's kind of wonderful that way.

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Ways Depression Can Save *YOU* Money! 1st Edition

[Quick edit: I am making light of something fairly dark here, but I am talking about the apathetic kind of depression... if you are in danger, crisis, you need help, or you need to talk to someone, please go HERE for Canadian support, or click HERE for options in the USA.]

You know, tears, sadness, hopelessness and helplessness aside, depression can provide some upsides.

It's just really hard to see it when you are in the midst of it. Positivity isn't exactly high on the list of side effects when you are down and out and chemically imbalanced.

BUT - HAVE NO FEAR! Have all the apathy you want... I mean... what do I care? I'm apathetic, too. But fear not! Here are some surefire ways you can turn that frown upside down (even though it probably will continue turning right back into that frown - but let's just grasp that moment where it resembles a half-assed smile!)

Now I'm not SAYING that free stock photography sucks, but...

Unrelated aside: I hate it when someone says a person has "done a 360" when they've totally changed their mind. That means they are back where they started and not, actually, 180 degrees away and doing the opposite. Anyway....

Ways that depression can save you money (fuck, there have to be SOME plusses, right? RIGHT? NO? Shit.):

   1. Toiletries. You will save a SHIT TON on toiletries. They will be used less often than military rations of food. Case in point:

      1a. Soap. You only use it up when you get your stanky ass in the shower. Based on personal experience, said showering can occur quite infrequently. Suck on that, Dove manufacturers! For every bar of soap I'd use up, the hubby would go through about 15. Yes, I'm gross. But if you laughed because you can relate, we should likely be gross together.

      1b. Shampoo. Same as above, but even THEN, when IN the shower, sometimes all that lathering on long hair is just SO MUCH EFFORT.

      1c. Conditioner. That shit is more rare than a whooping crane. Or whooping cough. Or something rare. Not only must you overcome the hurdle of soaping AND shampooing - you have to start all over with the conditioner. This is clearly reserved for extremely special occasions, like heading to the hairdresser (shit, I should TRY to appear normal) or you know, say, getting married.

      1d. Disposable razor blade ends. I can last on a free sample or clearance bonus pack for months. MONTHS, I say. My only real nemesis here is rust. Damn you, rust.

      1e. Expensive face wash. I use it, I love it, but again - it only works when a water source is involved.

      1f. Toothpaste. WAIT, WHAT?? You mean all that dentist's office propaganda is legit? I'm supposed to brush TWICE a day? Like, with real toothpaste and not just running the tap water to make it seem like I am concerned for my teeth and gums? Whoa.

      1g. Floss. I'm not even going to attempt to pretend here. Moving on...

   2. Long distance charges.

      Personal isolation has its pocket-book advantages! Withdrawing into oneself may be highly destructive, detrimental in the long (and short) term, and counterproductive for mood issues, but damned if I don't save myself a small fortune by not calling Grandma, Uncle Bob, or anyone I know/care for/love/associate with at 15 cents per minute!

Now, I'm not SAYING that this was on a 3-day showerless bender, and I am DEFINITELY not saying that the puppy was fully awake and aware before my BO knocked her unconscious in my arms. Nope, not saying a word on that.

   3. Entertainment Budget. 
      "What's that honey? You think it would be healthy for me to leave the house once this month? [Insert multitude of excuses as to why that would be a bad idea]. And what's that you say? It would be best if I considered showering before we left the house? Whoa no. That's just too much for one (depressed) plate. What's that you say? YOU showered AND left the house today and every day this past week? Well, that's why I love you, and clearly opposites attract!"

      You will save hundreds upon hundreds of dollars. That Marianas Trench/Maroon 5/Jay Z concert at $200 a ticket? Money in your pocket, because your shitty mood, horrible self care and unmanageable anxiety will keep you nice and firmly planted on your couch! Your partner should be THANKING you, really. That magic show? Eff that. Going to the movies? No way you want to cry in front of all those people - and no, it DOESN'T matter that it's an action movie, you will probably cry regardless.

Okay, yes I have felt this way, but clearly the stock photography place got it wrong. This woman is clearly not depressed because she took the time to braid her own hair. That's high functioning self-care, kids.

      That art festival? No, it would take too much brain power. That craft show? Too much fragrant potpourri, sparkles and sweatshirts with puff paint application. And all that sensory overload - you know, breathing air, talking to people and having to walk and be upright. Do I LOOK like a marathon endurance person to you? DO I??

Yeah, didn't think so.

Okay, that's it for the first edition. I have to pee and go to sleep. Priorities, folks.

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