The Worst of the Worst

I’m hoping that this is the worst of the worst.

In the beginning of the summer, things sucked but I was on high alert all the time and too busy protecting my son and myself to grieve.

Then, on Friday during the full moon, I said a prayer and did a little meditation, offering up to the universe forgiveness and asking for it in return. I also went back and remembered the good times we had, the great memories, and all the fun I’d captured in a single scrapbook.

Since I can’t go to the source and ask for this forgiveness, I threw it out into the cosmic river of wishes and dreams with the hope that I’m doing what needs to be done to heal.

Well, little did I know I would open the doors. And by open, I mean fling wide the pearly doors that were holding back the muckety muck I’d been suppressing.

Now I’m in the throws of a full on deep depression. One in which has me bound to the floor.

I don’t want to decorate or go to parties or get dressed up or even eat. I’m barely sleeping and I’m tired all day. And I cry. Easily.

Today, I left my son’s lunch at home on the counter. I pretty much cried all the way to work. I’ve been close to tears numerous times while at work dealing with crabby customers.

I’m having to remind myself over and over why I chose to leave. Why I chose to end things as best I could. Why I wanted another path to walk.

But it’s not working. I’m sad and overwhelmed by the losses. My friends, my groups, my best friend, my dreams and the person I’d known.

Sad thing is, if I sit and think about it, the person I knew is no longer. Their actions and words have erased them and replaced them with a sad, sad individual that would claim suicide over a break-up. That would go against my wishes and stalk me. That would use my words and share them with everyone.

This person is hurt and when they are hurt, they lash out. And I got caught.

So why do I miss them so much?? Why do I ache for what I had?

Is it grief? Will it go away? Or will I determine it was all a mistake and regret my decisions to make so many changes?

GAH! Either way I’m at a loss. I can’t stop feeling low and I can’t seem to shake free this feeling of grief.


A Pill In My Pocket

I have a pill in my pocket. One that keeps me awake with a spring in my step, a hope in my heart and the day that lies before me.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you. That my fluttering frivolous words actually meant something.

I have a pill in my pocket. One that swings my mood with a smile for Sunday, a tear for Tuesday and a foul worded mouth for Friday.

Don’t say you didn’t enjoy it. That the sensual sounds you made were all for show.

I have a pill in my pocket. One that is filled with dreams of tiny things, little hands and smaller feet.

Don’t say you didn’t dream, didn’t care, didn’t hope for it to manifest. You did. As I did too.

But, for different reasons.

You because you had no hope. No confidence. No healthy motive for anything you did.

Me, because I loved you and thought that was all I needed to make it work.

We were both wrong.

I have pills, in a jar. At home in the cabinet. Pills to make all of this better.

To make it all…go…away.

One swallow, a GULP and a sigh of relief and this pain is removed.

A pill to remind me that I failed.

That happiness is now a prescription, a daily dose of dehumanizing medication if I choose to swallow.

For today, I choose not to swallow. Not to ingest that pill. Not to take in that manufactured happiness.

In my pocket, I have some pills. Pills for my health. Pills that I choose to take.

Weathering The Storm

Depression is like a hurricane. The kind that swirls around angrily, has a eye in the middle and just makes a huge mess of everything. They can be seen coming but the full scope of the danger is never really, fully known. How disastrous it will be or if it will die out before it does any harm is just a guessing game

For me, this is what depression is like. It comes at me from a distance and I can see it. I know it’s there. So I buckle down and get ready for for the ride. I’ll attempt some preparation and even a little bit of prevention if I can.

Then it hits. It sucks but I knew it was coming (due to a situation or changes or extreme circumstances that cause it) so I’m not all that surprised. I continue to hold on and just wait it out, weathering it like a champ.

After a while I start to feel relief. The sun peeks out and I suddenly feel better. The winds have died down and I let go. I stand up and stretch.  I’m tired. My body aches, my head hurts and my heart is broken at the sight of the wreckage left behind.

But I’m alive. I’ve survived.

Ahhhh!! It feels so good not to feel blue or down anymore! It looks like the storm has passed. Welp! On to life as it was!” I say to myself.

But here is where I make my mistake. I get to the eye of the storm and start to feel relief. I test the waters with my little toe and find them to be calm and cool. So, what do I do? I start to rebuild and work on making things better. Fixing and throwing away things damaged in the storm.

Never once do I look back but I keep moving forward, fixing and rebuilding to clear a new path in front of me. But, little do I notice that it’s not over just yet. I have a little more to weather before life can start over.

That’s when the other side of the storm swirls around and slams into me, harder this time than before due to my lack of preparation.  For some reason, I’m never ready for this. For some reason, I always think the eye of the storm is truly the end of the deep down, dark feelings of sadness and loss.

Maybe I’m too optimistic. Or maybe I’m just that naive.

I think that I desire relief so badly that I blindly go into the eye of the storm and begin the clean up. I think I want to feel better SO badly that I forget there is a second part to this depression. That there is another side to this shit storm. That it not over yet.

So here I am, knocked on my ass by the second half of the storm. Everything I had done or worked on to repair is once again broken. All that hard work was for nothing as I scurry to cling for support as the winds whip around me and I just try to survive.

That is where I am currently. I’ve been struggling since the new year (and maybe before?) with signs of depression. It was a slow progression but I was down, nonetheless. Feeling apathetic, sad, and at times lonely in my gloom.

Then my life did a 180. Things, BIG THINGS, changed for me, sending me down a different path than I had planned. At the time I was medicated for my PMDD so I don’t think I really felt anything deeply. So I weathered the first half in a dull, zoned out kind of way.

I can’t tell you when but I did see the eye of the storm. I saw the sun break through the clouds and it stopped raining for a moment. And in that time, I felt better, more alive and positive that things were changing for the better. So I jumped up, gathered my tools and began rebuilding.

As you can guess, the second half of this hurricane has officially hit.

At first, I was so turned around and flustered, I couldn’t figure out what was happening. Why was I sad again!? I thought things were getting better! What was going on?

Then I thought about it and realized I still had to deal with this. I still needed to survive and get to the other side. The eye of the storm was only a brief time-out. Like a little reminder of what it’s like to feel good. A reminder that I am capable and strong. A reminder to keep holding on and weather the rest of this. A little sneak peek at how good it will be.

It will be over soon, the eye of the storm says. You made it this far, now just hang on and get through this last bit.

So, here I am. Still struggling. Still depressed. Still asking “Why me?!” questions and still crying over my losses and my heartache. I’m tired and drained. I feel like I can’t do it anymore. Like I don’t have it in me to find out how good it will be once this storm passes. I just kinda want to sit down and live in this hurricane rather than fight through it and live in sunny days.

But, if the eye of the storm is right, I’m strong. I’m capable. I’ve made it this far. So, I can’t give up.

I just need to keep on going and care for myself with the gentlest of words and with the utmost self-care. I have a lot of good coming my way. I just have to hang on and weather this last bit.

They always say, it gets worse before it gets better.

Let’s hope so.

The Good and The Bad

I want to believe in the good. I want to believe that people are inherently good, kind, loving people.

I want to believe that people intend to treat others with respect and kindness, always.

I want to believe that people care about others. Honestly and truly care.

But right now, I am lacking faith.

Faith in people’s ability to be good humans. To be honest and forthright.

Right now, I’m thinking maybe people aren’t so great.

Maybe we are all untrustworthy humans from the get-go and only a few finish with honor.

Or maybe none of it is true. And the only truth is, I trust too much.

Maybe I’m the only one to blame for my pain.

This Is The Year

This is the year.

This is the year that I lost it all.

This is the year that my world fell apart.

This is the year I learned to fear. Fear for those I love and to fear those I once did.

This is the year I watched my dreams come cascading down, pooling around my tired feet.

This is the year I suffered a broken heart. Not once, but twice.

This is the year I’m ready to put behind me. The year in which everything changed.

The year in which I had to start from scratch.

This is the year.

This is the year I learned how strong I really was.

This is the year that I found my family by my side, closer than ever.

This is the year I rekindled a friendship, one I thought I’d never have again. One that means the world to me now.

This is the year I saw the strength of my foundation. A foundation built on truth, honesty, love and reliability.

This is the year I picked myself up and dusted myself off.

This is the year I survived.

Photo by creaTIFF Photography