Mmmkay. If you’re not into long sappy self pity posts, I have taken over on another blog, so you can head on over to Real Life With Kids for some lighthearted fun about Sin City. Cate is quite the find as far as blogs go, as well as a fantastic friend, so if you still want to read the following post, do me a solid and hop over to her place when you leave. Peace out.
“Men are disturbed not by things, but by the view which they take of them.”
This is a quote my therapist brought to my attention today at my appointment. It makes sense. She also told me that our perception is our reality. This one struck a chord with me, too. It seems so basic and logical, but then when I examined the meaning hiding behind the words it became slightly more complicated.
I don’t know who I am. I haven’t found myself. All I know is that I am a mommy and I am a wife. If not for those things I don’t know who I would be. I used to think that it wasn’t important to have the sense of “me,” but maybe if I did I would be more capable of giving myself to other people. Right now what they see is a meek soul carrying around a lifeless corpse on it’s shoulders.
If I don’t know who I am, how can I possibly understand what my perception or reality really are? Maybe I’m just not cut out for this deep philosophical introspection. Then again, maybe I am and I fear what I might find, good or bad.
Grab the lifesaver! I’m pulling you out of the deep end!!!
I was getting carried away and confusing myself, so I’m going to attempt to explain and not melt my brain matter simultaneously. You game? Alright then!
Needless to say, I’ve started seeing a therapist/counselor/whatever. She just might be a beacon for me. She is one of those people that exudes ease and makes you comfortable in a pretty awkward situation. Unloading your bullshit on someone you’ve never met as well as being on the receiving end of the same could easily be undesirable, but it just isn’t so in this case.
I’ve been feeling…not right lately. Well, I shouldn’t say “lately.” I haven’t been all here for quite some time. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not losing my mind or anything, but daily I find myself in a self-deprecating mind-meld, if you will. What I mean is that I constantly badger myself for not being a better mom. For not being a better wife. For not giving my family the me that they deserve and require. Then? I beat myself up for zoning out on all the negatives. All the negative stuff becomes a swirling vortex that consumes and destroys both my time and my energy. What is left is unacceptable. It’s not me.
Turns out, all the negativity that goes on inside is thrust outward without my consent. I never thought about how my internal workings could affect my environment, the people in it, and the way those people react to me. Now, I’m beating myself up for not making the connection. It just seems so obvious. I guess it’s kind of like not seeing the forest for the trees. I’m noticing that about a lot of things now.
I’ve been so focused on my scattered brain and emotional highs and lows and all the “why’s” that I forgot to focus on anything else. Like the sound the leaves make in my Cottonwood when the wind rustles through them, or the rain on the tin roof of my back patio. The smell of dirty little boys. The pure joy of kissing my husband. Those things have all gotten lost in the sludge that is my current consciousness. THAT EFFING SUCKS.
So. I think I’ll do something about it. My therapist has given me the first of many “tools,” as she calls them. Things to apply and practice to get the train back on the tracks so to speak. No matter that I would grovel at her feet for some Zoloft, I’m thrilled that she found me capable of trying to manage myself, myself. Depression is not something to be played around with under any circumstances and I am all for the medication approach. I have taken that road before. With my first child and my battle with Postpartum. The medications effects were similar to throwing water on a fire, but I had an even rougher time getting off the pills. I have quite the addictive nature so that road I mentioned? I sped down the asphalt like a bat out of hell and when it was time to stop for gas, it wasn’t easy to give up the ride. The drive was so easy, no pot holes, no hairpin turns. Lovely. Not something I’m willing to put myself and my family through again unless it is absolutely necessary. And it might be. Time will tell.
I’ve read so many bloggers’ tales of Postpartum Depression, Postpartum Anxiety, general depression and everything in between. Under normal circumstances, I would put this in my pocket and write about my kids antics or my general lack of homemaker skills, but I got to thinking that maybe there’s a reason for people spilling their guts. Well, come to find out, spilling your guts to people you’ve never met is exceptionally cathartic. I’ve been considering writing this post for weeks, but I couldn’t decide whether it would seem genuine or if readers would scoff at my jumping on the bandwagon. I’m not jumping on any bandwagon and I can assure you that this is my truth. Take it or leave it.
I’m sure you’ve noticed I haven’t been around quite as much, and this is why. I have officially been diagnosed as depressed. Strange, because I’m not exactly what you would call unhappy. I love my life, I love my kids, I love my husband, and I’m blessed way beyond anything I deserve. Thing is, I need to figure out how to become capable of giving the whole me to the people around me instead of just a withering shell. Workin’ on it!
“The greater the difficulty the more glory in surmounting it. Skillful pilots gain their reputation
from storms and tempests.” –Epictetus