Moving on... Moving On... Nothing to see here.

I love the sense of control I get when a day starts well. Laundry going, kitchen usable, toys out for playing, but haven't taken over the house... it's good. Bayba has been doing crafts all morning. Mugga has a cold, but is doing much better than yesterday. Right now she's chilling on the sofa watching Dora.

I recently started a new med: Clonidine. It's technically for blood pressure, but increasingly used for anxiety, PTSD and ADHD.

Of Reasons and Dog Poo

OK. Getting a little silly with the title... but I can only take myself so seriously for so long. Still, this is a continuation of the last two posts.

We All Have Our Reasons
My Reason

Part of the shame and humiliation of 12-year-old memories is the way they force my to view myself and the way my identity is constructed. I felt weak and powerless and ugly and worthless.

My Reason

This post is a continuation of We All Have Our Reasons.

Have I mentioned my reason for all the dental stuff? I feel like I probably have. I feel like I get stuck in these loops where I say too much about it and make people uncomfortable and they wonder why I don't just shut up and get over it... why I let an event that lasted something like 2 or 3 hours (if you don't count the years leading up to it) keep interfering with my life, now approximately 12 years later.

Rapid Cycling?

For the past few days the mood swings have been absolute hell. I go from OK to well above baseline to so ghastly depressed that I seriously start fantasizing about "falling" off bridges. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

This is scarily similar to what was going on in Hawaii the last year or so I was there. It hurts like that and I don't know why.

Yesterday afternoon I sat on my couch, wishing I could wish myself out of existence, while my kids got increasingly grumpy and needy. I know how I'm supposed to feel and act. I forced myself to smile and cuddle and answer questions, all while the noise level in my head increased to an unbearable crescendo. Somewhere in there I managed to peel myself off the sofa and made sugar cookies with Bayba. They're her favorite. And I almost ruined the whole effort by snapping at her about putting the cookie cutters in her mouth. Poor kiddo was crushed. I apologized, but it's not like an apology really fixes anything. I think she still had fun. And I breathed through minute by minute, trying to just surface between waves without drowning. I made it through. Even made dinner.

And now I have another whole day ahead of me. I had one little jag of OK-ness in which I got laundry and dishes going. Then the wave crashed down and I'm under water again.

The shittiest thing about depression is looking ahead and seeing an endless parade of days... knowing you can't count on anything ever getting better. Sure, I know it can be better than what's going on right now. But I also know I have only minimal control over this. I've been doing all the right things - I think. I've been taking my meds, exercising regularly, meditation... and I was doing so well for so long. Now what?