I am guessing it has to do with Toe's and my moods and health this summer. As he recovered and was ready to enjoy the summer, I became sick.
For those of you who don't know, I suffer from depression (and anxiety). I have had a major episode every three to five years since I was twelve. I have taken medication for it for more than ten years and consider myself a "lifer." I work to lower my dosage when things are ok and have to increase my dosage during my depressive episodes. Often the episodes have different symptoms, so it is difficult for me to tell how poorly I am doing until I completely fall apart. It often takes me months (sometimes years) to recover. Sometimes these episodes are triggered by an event - those are actually easier for me to handle because I seem to be gentler on myself when I know the cause of the depression. More often, they come after a long period of stress. I handle the stressful events as they come and fall apart afterwards. I feel guilty that I am not able to take care of myself well enough to avoid the roller coaster and that I am not able to recuperate faster. I know I take everything too seriously.
We had a busy July 4 weekend, followed by my working an overnight respite. I woke up on my birthday, exhausted and empty. I stopped answering the phone and spent most of the day sleeping on the couch while Toe entertained himself with video games and movies. We spent most of the week like that. J has been incredibly busy this summer and we see him for a few minutes in the evenings, but are on our own the rest of the time. And I was DONE. Just done. Done with planned events, done with school and sickness and housework and pretty much everything. All of the energy I had went into meeting Toe's needs - meals and meds. Some days I can muster more - a trip to my mom's, a trip to the grocery store, a small adventure; others, Toe has to play around me. He has been very understanding and supportive.
I wish I had Sylvia Plath's eloquence to describe how I feel during these times, how it clouds the mind, how there is always a physical component for me as well, how disrupting it is, especially trying to appear normal. But often the first thing to go is my voice. I become so overwhelmed by LIFE, I am unable to even let those around me know how poorly I am doing, let alone write about what I am experiencing. I navigate the days with a voice inside my head dismissing most of my messages to the outside world as "Too much energy to share." Having issues and/or worries? It takes too much energy to voice them. Need help? It takes too much energy to even think about what I need let alone ask for anything. I find all I can say is "I'm sick," and "I'm broken," over and over.
My depressions have been fewer since Toe was born, but they still come. I feel like a sub-human that I can not keep them in check. Now when I am depressed, I drag myself out of bed to take care of Toe and it's probably good for me. I can't completely crumple the way I used to. I have to keep up the appearance of being ok at least sometimes for him (at least I have been able to this thus far). But it's like any emotional process: if you are keeping it in check, it takes longer to process. I was barely recovered (maybe a year? two?) from my last depression when this one began.
I know they come and go, and that I will recover. I like to think that maybe I am a phoenix on a fast track, born to crash and burn and then rise (even better) from the ashes (not once every thousand, but once every five years). I sure hope so. The idea that I am born to ride this horrible cycle again and again is too depressing and scary.
I have an amazing support network. Family and friends are checking in on me, asking what I need, and helping me navigate this. I have the most amazing husband and son I could imagine. I will be alright. It seems that I usually fall apart when things are going well, not when they are going badly. I do feel guilty that with all of this support, I can't get it together quickly. I keep thinking that I will be alright and then I am not. This looks to be a long recovery.
A dear friend came by yesterday and has taken Toe for two evenings in a row. I have forced myself to take a walk and feel so much better having done so. It is so hard when I feel this way to take care of myself the way I know helps me in the long run. It is easier to eat bad-for-me foods and sleep and read my book and that's it.
So why share? To help Toe face his cystic fibrosis, I tell him that we are all suffer from something - diabetes, depression, not enough food to eat, poor vision, depression, something. We all face challenges, sometimes many. Life is messy and painful and hard (and wonderful and amazing). I just finished Glennon Doyle Melton's book Carry On Warrior. She calls life "brutiful." I am inclined to agree. This is who I am and it colors every aspect of my life in the same way that CF colors every aspect of Toe's. We are not our illnesses, but they are there and sometimes you just have to acknowledge the ugly clown standing in the corner. I want to be this amazingly free, wild woman who embraces life. Instead, I am a flawed human being whose anxiety drags her down and closes her off far too much. I am sick. I have been much more sick this summer. When I told my friend this last night, he said, "Just be you." So here I am.
Here are some photos from my walk last night.
