Over the past couple of months, I’ve had an incredibly hard time putting into words how I felt. Well – maybe it had less to do with the words and everything to do with that “Publish” button – the one button that would spin my post into the blogosphere, never to be gotten back. So, instead I remained fairly quiet. Posting photos and lists and random odds-and-ends. I started many blog entries, just to delete them after writing only a few paragraphs. “Just put it out there!” A friend told me. But, I couldn’t. I couldn’t explain why – I just couldn’t.
I suppose I’m just not totally convinced that anyone really wants to know the things that run through my head on a more-than-occasional basis. I’m afraid to fully divulge the pieces of myself that I’ve held secret for so long – the things that still haunt me. Like now.
I could feel it coming, ever so slowly-like water, slowly edging up to my body- only to wash over me and then retreat – never threatening. Until one day, the waters stopped receding. Instead, they kept rising. Until I though I would drown. And then I forgot who I was. No, wait. I didn’t forget. I just stopped. My craft room and supplies laid deserted. The laundry began to double like jackrabbits – or was that the dust-bunnies and cat hair? I found it hard to sleep – and yet that’s all I wanted to do. Tears replaced the laughter, and finally – the will to even “be” was beginning to fade too.
I figured that at this rate, I was nothing more than a waste of space anyhow. So, why bother? And, then I caught myself eye-ing the medicine cabinet – and I knew. A battle has been waged. You see, I knew where this was all going before I got here – I just thought that I would have so much more time before it got to this point. I really thought I had more time.
But, this was nothing like last time – and yet, it was everything like last time.
At 15, I began to use my arms as a means of release. With a razor as my sword, I would release the pain inside of me. And, for a while – that was enough. But, then it wasn’t. And, so… 3 years later, I attempted to free myself. And, that too didn’t quite work out in the manner which I had originally intended it to.
(And, for that I’m thankful.)
The point is, I’ve been here before – and, knowing how it (almost) ended last time – I wasn’t going to take it lightly. I confided in a few close friends, and then made a call to request anti-depressants.
I was torn. I felt like I was admitting failure – that I was a failure – because I couldn’t do this alone. I felt like I was failing my family because while I knew these pills might help me, I also worried about having to pay for them out-of-pocket due to the lack of insurance – and thereby “wasting” that money when we might need it for something important later on.
After all, what if I wasn’t worth saving? What if this little pill was necessary for the rest of my life to simply make me hapy? What kind of a mother would that make me? What kind of a woman would that make me?
Despite the conflict in my brain, I called up my old once a year doctor (from back when we had insurance), and explained over voicemail how I needed anti depressants. The sound of the neediness in my voice echoed in my ears and I silently hung up the phone, hating myself even more. I was no longer strong – I was weak. Incapable. maybe even lazy. But for damn sure, I was going through a lot of Kleenex.
That afternoon, the prescription came through. And for once – in months – I felt hopeful. I felt like the end to the pain and darkness was near. I took my happy pill.
And, then a message came through in response to a thought I had posted. “Glad to see you’re finally being positive about something.”
With that, I shoved the pills to the bottom of my purse, so they wouldn’t serve as a constant reminder to the negative person I had become. Once more, I struggled with the feelings of inadequacy. Maybe I really am just negative. Perhaps I have no right to claim “depression” or these little pills. Maybe this really is…just me. The thoughts got worse, and began to spiral again – this time, only taking days instead of months.
Then, it clicked – something inside of me clicked. Screw it all. This is NOT me. This is not who I am, nor is it who I choose to be. For me, this is not a matter of war between myself and a a demonic evil. For me, this is a battle within – a battle in which, I am both fighting for and against myself. A battle where I must choose which part of me I will let win, and which part of me must lose. And, it all must start with that one little pill.
Welcome back!
I’m giving away this GREAT XS Organic Hotslings Sling. It’s brand-new in the package and ready to go! To win, simply leave a comment and tell me where in the world you are (State or, if not in the US – tell me the area).
Besides, she says my Amazon list with 99% L’s stuff just doesn’t cut it. I hope you’ll all do this (and be sure to tell me! ESPECIALLY if you are doing the bloggy swap!) Anyways, the idea is to post 100 of my favorite things…for gift ideas/inspiration/etc. This is way different than the 100 of my favorite things list where you’re allowed to post things like “sex, family, and blah blah blah.” (Hear me, Miss???) lol
