Here we go again

Sick and tired of defending the illness to people who don't, won't or can't accept there is a separation between ME and the ILLNESS. I tried to explain this to some people over the past year, and... total misunderstanding. Anger, resentment, isolation, gone. I snapped out at the loss, probably not the smartest thing to do, but I'm sick of depression and anxiety being the illness that keeps on taking. It hasn't been ME that's been around lately folks, it's been ME with an illness. But you probably don't get that (you know who you are).

Ironic, I've been feeling better this year than I've been in the past 5 years.. and I was looking forward to rekindling my social life. I finally have a treatment plan that seems to be working. I'm sleeping, I'm eating, I'm not obsessing over every possible disaster. I'm not planning on having any more kids so no overblown hormonal recession into illness in my future. I'm also not so crabby, I'm not so self focussed. Losing weight, feeling good, happy, fun again. I can actually separate from the symptoms.

Then this new hitch. I guess my social life is about to go in a very different direction than I expected.

Post below from Etta's "depressionmarathon" blog from Sunday, August 17, 2008. I didn't write this, but it's so true.

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"losing friends

Sometimes real people let us down. My blogging friend wrote a recent post about her disappointment with "no-return friends." No-return friends--the people with whom we were previously close, but who, for no apparent reason, no longer return our phone calls. Unfortunately, those of us with mental illness are all too familiar with this unique term. Those of us with mental illness likely have too many examples of friends who have fallen out of our lives. I know I do. This phenomena seems to be unique to mental illness. It is one of the many reasons I have found depression so isolating. No hallmark cards, no pancake breakfasts, no hotdish, and friends who disappear. Ouch. It hurts. It's painful. It sucks.

Unfortunately, it's reality. When I speak to the public about my illness, I acknowledge this loss as one of the most difficult in an illness full of painful losses. There are probably multiple reasons for this reality, but one suggested reason stirred controversy over on my friend's blog. Perhaps, it was suggested, we aren't much fun to be around. That is, when my symptoms are raging, perhaps I'm not the brightest, happiest, most positive person to hang out with! I can't argue with that. It's another cruel reality of my illness.Because the suggestion reflected one of my realities, I didn't find the comment controversial. Rather, having an explanation for the otherwise inexplicable loss of close friends relieves a bit of my pain. It's like acknowledging depression as an illness versus a character defect. The illness lets me off the hook.

When my depression takes over, I may appear lazy, anti-social, irritable, and sad, but that's not me. It's the illness. I am an active, relatively social, pleasant person.However, depression urges me to isolate. If I do get out, my illness makes socializing nearly impossible, especially if I can't separate myself from my symptoms. And when I am drowning in symptoms, I can't separate. Depression becomes me. I become depression. And I imagine, I'm not a whole lot of laughs to hang out with.

The following is an excerpt from the comment I left on my friend's blog post

....most people cannot handle anything other than “shiny happy people.” It is a reflection on THEIR character, NOT YOURS. It sucks.What worked for me when I lost friends...I shifted my focus to talking with people who could handle it–the professionals in my life. When that wasn’t enough, I connected with more professionals, the local NAMI organization, and did more writing.I’m not suggesting you do any of the above–rather, just letting you know how I dealt with the pain of “friends” falling out of my life. Those “friends” originally caused me much pain with their ignorance and absence. Over time, the pain lessened–though it still stings if I allow myself to dwell on it too much.This illness SUCKS. It steals everything we know and are comfortable with. It steals our soul. For me, once I accepted that fact and tried to focus on what I could do, and what I could control–vs. what I couldn’t do or control (i.e. other people)–my life got a little easier. Again, just letting you know what has worked for me–when I am able to do it!There are a select few people with whom I confide what is “really” going on in my life. If I am around others outside that select few, I try to look at it as a time of distraction–a time to just be in that moment and a distraction from my internal strife. But I can only do that when I am in a slightly better space than the deep hole you seem to be in right now. When I’m feeling like super-duper, mega crap–I can’t handle much of anyone or anything. Everything I interpret, I interpret in the worst possible light. It’s a shitty place to be, and I hate it.I am praying for you. ... Please, please take care of yourself. Be kind to you and to those around you, and hang on tight! ...

I hope this is helpful to others out their struggling with the cruel realities of depression and mental illness. I'd love to hear your thoughts and experiences, too.To stay alive, I try to remember I have an illness. I have an illness which often sucks the life out of me, changes my character, and distorts my personality; but I don't have to let it define me. Keep fighting, folks. Don't let your illness define you."

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Thank you Etta!!!!!!!!

Its been a while...

Have we all been *that* sick for *that* long?

Yes.. we have. At least I have. Been sick almost constantly since January. It's been tough.

At least the docs think they have found the problem - allergies! I guess everything gets all sticky and gummy.. and traps all kinds of viruses and bacteria.

Hopefully that can explain the 4 ear infections, the 2 cases of strep throat, the 'flu, the 3 colds and the eye infection that I've been sporting since January!

I don't have time to get into how much I'm mourning the last few months, precious months, time on mat leave with my son that I can't get back. I have 5 weeks to go and I'm going to make every last minute count.

life in the trenches

OK.. so being a second time mom I thought I'd seen it all, but my LO has been sick for 2 weeks now and on Sunday he started wheezing and working a bit harder to breathe. He's been in relatively good spirits, no fever and still eating so I wasn't too worried, but because of the wheeze I brought him into the doctors. I've been battling some kind of respiratory virus the entire month of January that landed me in the doc's a few times for pneumonia (a round of azithromycin for that one) and a big fat double ear infection (a round of amoxycillin for that one). I still can't hear out of my right ear...

Anyhoo I took him to the doc on Sunday and there's no sounds of pneumonia (lung crackles and pops) thank GOD (I am petrified of my kids getting pneumonia because I've had it, once as a kid and it was very very serious). but he does have bronchiolitis - inflammation in the smallest tubes in the lungs.

Yesterday he was wheezing worse and struggling to breathe a bit more so I brought him to the kid's hospital (CHEO - Children's Hospital of Eastern Ontario) and it was an absolute zoo. There was a line up at the triage desk - there's been a massive outbreak of respiratory and gastro. viruses.. it was awful. I got there at 2:00 and didn't leave until 8pm. It was horrendous.

Xavier's oxygen saturation was a bit low (96%) so they did all kinds of treatments, epinephrine masks (twice) ventolin, and prednisone to try and get rid of the inflammation. They also suctioned his nose with this tube thing that made him scream.. I had to look away and try to be in my happy place when he was being held to the bed and screaming his little baby scream...

Man.. that ER sounds like a house of horrors all the screaming kids in there. I must have cried five times myself listening to all the misery around me.

Anyhow the wheezing seemed to be gone by 8pm so they let us go home. Today it seems to be back despite following the doctor's orders for continued puffers (ventolin and steroid) and prednisone.. tonight he coughed so hard he puked and he even had a big fat diarrhea attack in the tub (while he was in the tub with my 3 year old - great time to have their first shared bath eh?) we took him out of the tub and he proceeds to power-diarrhea all over my husband..

PLEASE GOD do not let him have a gastro. virus on top of whatever is making him cough and wheeze... I dont think I could stand having that rip through my house when my hubby is away for the weekend.

Anyhow its been a real slice of he** in the motherhood trenches. My back is killing me from lifting my 23 lb son around the ER for 8 hours. I'm totally stressed and I"m so glad my mom is coming up for a few days to help me out (my hubby is going away for the weekend and there's no way in he** i can manage 2 kids, one sick, one recovering, BOTH kids on puffers, and me with one ear still clogged and exhausted from whatever respiratory virus is making its rounds this year).

I'm not impressed mostly because an attack of bronchiolitis in infancy often means that the child will develop asthma later in life, great, my daughter has it and now my son. I've even had to label their puffers/aerochambers.. but then again ALL of us in this house have puffers now.. we all seem to get asthma after we get sick :(

I CANT WAIT FOR SPRING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! virus season sucks...

Dear Lord...

Can I talk to my Dad? Please? I miss him so much. I don't understand why he has to come and live with you now and not with us. We're not done with him. He never got to meet Xavier and he barely met Abby. He has two grandchildren who would so much love to see him and play with him and that's not going to happen.

I still don't understand why my dad had to go. I mean, you probably know, but that does little for me who has to walk around every day with a broken heart. It's been over three years but some days it feels like it was just yesterday. Like this afternoon. I'm terribly worried about Xavier's cough and wheezing and I just wish I could call my dad and ask him to tell me everything's going to be OK. I never was really good at soothing myself when serious things happened, and even if my dad had NO idea if things were going to be OK he'd tell me anyhow, and I felt better. Even if it didnt make any sense, hearing him say that made me feel better.

But I can't call him. I will never hear his voice again as long as I live. I am not ready to die yet, so I don't think I want to exercise that option in order to hear him.

I have heard that through You all things are possible. And since You decided it was my dad's time to go, and I had no choice in the matter, that I deserve a little help here.

Could You tell me things will be OK? How will I know when you're sending me that message?

I miss my dad so much Lord, I could use a little help here.

Please.

You know who I am

So..

The insomnia got out of control in December. The depression and anxiety came back with a vengeance. I knew I had a problem when I went to my office Christmas party and spent more time in the bathroom crying than upstairs with my colleagues.

So I caved and started taking medication. Unfortunately I was self-medicating for awhile this fall with a few painkillers I had left over from an unfortunate burn accident. When those ran out I realized I had a serious problem.

I started medication under the supervision of a psychiatrist in mid December. Ciprolax in the morning, Seroquel and Imovane at night to sleep.

The anxiety seems to be in check now, which is good, but I still can't sleep without additional medication. But I can sleep with the night time medication and it's good.

I hate to admit that I have a mood disorder, but I do. Yep, I'm officially in the category of "mentally ill". I have had classic symptoms of Generalized Anxiety Disorder since I was about 3. These symptoms have gradually gotten worse over my lifetime until they hit a crisis point after Abby's birth. I have been working awfully hard to keep these symptoms in check since I stopped taking medication before having Xavier.

Some of the things I can't do when I'm on this medication: Drink alcohol, stay up late, eat excessive amounts of junk food, and fly airplanes (yes I used to have a pilot's license).

I don't know how I will explain this to people the next time I'm out for dinner or at a party (not like that happens frequently, but it does on occasion). I just have to level with my friends I guess, and tell them the truth. That I have a health problem, I take medication, and I can't drink or stay up late. I rarely drank anyhow because of this problem so I might as well bite the bullet and tell them the truth.

I'm thankful for having my life back, though. It feels good to be normal. I've spent so much of my life wracked with phobias, insomnia, excessive worry, and an inability to relax. It feels good to finally unwind.

I just hate to admit I have an illness like this.

Things I hate...

The third anniversary of my dad's death has come and gone. And my anxiety is worse than ever. I don't know if its related, but its possible. For most of last week, just as I tried to drift off to sleep, I awoke with a jolt and a big fat panic attack that took hours to resolve. And on those nights that I didn't have a scary attack, I was just too keyed up, my heart was racing too fast, my thoughts racing, and I just couldn't settle down. The fact that one or both of my kids get up at 5:00 am most mornings doesn't help when you can't get to sleep until well after midnight, or later. There's no such thing as sleeping in anymore.

Having a baby and a 3 year old is tough enough, however, without much sleep its impossible. I'd hoped that this year I'd be able to have Abby home with me some days, but I just don't know how I can do it, safely without sleep. I hate that my anxiety and depression has robbed me of my mat leave with her, and now it's robbing me of some time that I thought I'd be able to have with her, to get some of that "mommy time" back that I couldn't give her back then because I was too sick.

I hate that I have to rely on C so much just to cope these days. Lord knows he's got enough on his plate lately, training for a new job and an improved income so we don't go into debt with 2 kids in daycare next year. Lord also knows he's already had to go the extra mile a million times already since we've been married, due to my anxiety and depression. I hate that this is so hard on him.

I hate taking drugs to sleep, but that's what I've had to do for weeks now. I hate that my dad also had this issue, and he's now dead, and that leaves me to wonder if his fate (dead of a heart attack at 62) will also be mine. He had depression and anxiety, so do I. We both struggled to get enough restful sleep in order to function. I have been struggling for years on this, and I don't know what to do. I've taken every antidepressant known to mankind and found either they made me so dehydrated I couldn't get comfortable in bed (dry mouth, had to pee all night) or they gave me insomnia, which is the stupid problem I'm trying to fix in the first place.

At least now I realize I don't really have an insomnia problem, but really an anxiety problem. When the anxiety is not tearing me apart, I sleep quite well. But for most of my life, most days, have been a battle against the monster anxiety.

I hate that.

Building a Mystery

This road I've chosen - marriage, home ownership, motherhood (of two!) is a struggle. I never realized how much harder it would be to go from one to two, but its really hard. Of course this reminds me of the fact that I never realized how hard it was to even have one.. but now I've got two. But I digress...

Last week was a hard one. Abby had a doctors and a dentist appointment in the same week. This meant that her little routine was messed up. She had to go late to preschool on Tuesday and miss it completley on Thursday. As a result, she acted out a LOT that week. On Thursday, I was so distracted by Abby's inappropriate behaviour (she was on a time out) and a crying baby that during dinner preparation, I grabbed a hot pan handle and wound up with excruciating 2nd degree burns all over my right hand. It hurt so bad and I yelled so loud I traumatized Abby. She started bawling. I wound up in the E.R. with an outrageously high blood pressure, and had to be shot up with morphine and a tetanus shot, as well as taking percocet/acetominophen, ibuprofen and of course, gravol to keep my guts intact after all the narcotics. Didnt stop me from wharfing out the car door on the way home though. It was good high though!

So.. you might ask.. what's with the title for this blog post? Tonight I'm forced to take a break from housework on account of my bummed hand. Instead I'm going through old CDs and transferring my favourite songs to my MP3 player. I'm on Sarah McLachlan's "Surfacing" - an old favourite.

Listening to songs I long forgot about is one of the very few ways I can hang onto a grasp of my "adult self" - the person that I used to be prior to having kids - throughout the day, especially when I"m here alone, or when I'm going for a walk with Xavier. It helps to drown out his screaming when he's settling down for a nap (he's one of those babies that disdains soothers, and cries himself to sleep almost EVERY time).

Around 1996 or so I saw Sarah in concert. It was an AMAZING night. During that time I was dating a guy in Montreal - a guy I eventually moved in with for 1998-2000. A relationship that I thought was going places, but it ended extremely badly. But during that time I got to do a LOT of stuff and got to know Montreal REALLY well. Its a fun city to live in thats for sure, but I felt it was never the kind of place to settle down in and raise kids, which was my ultimate goal.

During that time in my life I was so carefree, I had it sooo easy but I didnt realize it. I guess the fact that I didnt have a job or any kind of income might have clouded the fact that it was pretty easy living. Easy mostly, except for dealing with the guy that I was dating. I thought we were good friends and our relationship would stand the test of time, but it didn't. I dont know where or when it all went sour, or what exactly happened, but I went from an angel on a pedestal to the spawn of Satan in four short years. I was the same person, same values, same hopes and dreams. How it all came unravelled so quickly I dont know.

Why am I romanticizing the past - especially a ROTTEN time in my past - when now I finally have everything I've always wanted - a home, a husband who loves me, two great kids who also love me, and a good job that pays well? Does this mean I dont love my husband or my kids? Does this mean I made a mistake with my life? Sometimes I am so tired and so wrung out by this motherhood gig that I think I have made a BIG mistake. Its SOO much work to raise two kids and keep a house in semi-order. After putting the kids to bed, tidying up a bit and taking some "me" time there's little time for each other. And I"m not even a neatnik - I"m just after a house that's not overrun with dust and mould and dirt and rotting food. Some serious disarray and crayon marks on the walls are acceptable.

Why did I do this? I could be jetting off to Europe any time I like.. doing whatever I please. I could spend lazy Saturdays and Sundays in bed. But I can't. And I have no idea when I will be able to do that again, if ever. Why did I do this to myself?

I thought that I"d be less lonely with a family. But lately it feels like I'm MORE lonely. The evenings are filled with my husband and I each taking a child for the evening (its hard when the kids are at two very different stages). Yes there's company when I take my 3 year old to the park at night, but its not an adult conversation. There's no understanding, no comraderie (how do you spell that) and it's still being "on duty".

I hope there's more love and company in this life that I've chosen. I hope that the best is yet to come. Everyone tells me that this gets better, gets easier. I hope so. Right now its very very hard. It just feels like drudgery and I dont get a lot of fun.

Maybe there IS love here and I can't see it? I guess I've spent so many years chasing love, wanting love, hoping to find love that I have a hard time recognizing it. Even my husband tells me that I only listen to the bad stuff, and I have a hard time listening to the good stuff, the compliments, the kudos, the kisses.

I should listen to him more about stuff like that. Maybe its my clouded ears and my jaded attitude that's the problem, and not my life.

So every day, I guess I *am* building a mystery. Every day I get up at 5:30 am (give or take an hour) and get the baby, feed the baby, dress the baby, get breakfast on the table, help get Abby and Clancy out the door. All day long I dress the baby, feed the baby, burp the baby, take the baby for a walk, try to get the baby to nap, cook food, do a bit of housecleaning, pick up Abby, prepare dinner, pick a child, complete evening routine, prepare formula, arrange dishes, run a load of laundry, spend a bit of time on the computer and crash at 10pm (lather.. rinse.. repeat...).

I have no idea what our life will be like in 1 year, 2 years, 3 years, 5 years, 10 years. I dont know who my kids will become, what they will want to do, what their likes and dislikes will be. I don't even really have much of an insight into my baby son's personality yet.

I dont know when I'll be able to return to having some of my interests returned into my life. I dont know when I'll feel less guilty taking time for myself, I have NO idea when I'll be confident enough to stay home with 2 kids alone for any length of time...

But right now, every day I work.. HARD. I guess I'm building.. but I don't know what I am building. I'm building my own mystery, a day at a time.

I hope this mystery has a good ending.