Category Archives: depression

the struggle is real

depression, writing 1 Comment

Blogging of a Personal Nature

I read an article recently on kottke.org that assured me that I am not, in fact, the last personal (i.e. non-topical) blogger out there. In reading some of the blogs he referenced, I realized that I haven’t been keeping up with regular, “real” updates. Sure, every month I post a Garden Bloggers’ Bloom Day post, and I’ve been getting behind on my Cookbook of the Month posts, and I’ve completely stopped posting monthly weight updates (because what’s the use), and I have several somewhat time-sensitive posts in the queue — mostly about the vacation we took last month. But the old-school life update post has become kind of a rarity lately — which is a shame, since so many minor happenings will slip past undocumented if I’m not careful. I don’t really journal longhand unless I’m trying to work through something I can’t really post online, so if it’s not here, it’s probably not anywhere to be found. Except in my brain, and that’s kind of iffy the older I get.

So, here’s one topic I’ve been meaning to bring up again: depression.

Specifically, treatment via medication.

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Christmas Is Coming

Today was “Polar Express Day” at Connor’s school (jammies FTW!), after which he gifted a box full of homemade cookies to the ladies at the after school program.

Tomorrow is his class’s Winter Party (not the “Christmas Party,” partially because they have children from Jewish and Muslim families in their class), where he’ll be gifting cookies and a gift card to his teacher. (I’ll be there along with some other parents, helping with the festivities.) Come evening, I’ll probably assemble all the recipes for the weekend’s cooking exploits to make sure all the necessary ingredients get on the shopping list.

Saturday, we’ll be doing laundry and grocery shopping (which are normally Sunday tasks), and I’ll be making an old family recipe for Christmas pudding that involves cracker crumbs and takes some four hours in the oven. (I’ve never made it before, so this should be interesting.) I’ll probably also make the cranberry sauce come evening, and we need to take some books back to the library.

Sunday — Christmas Eve — is our family gathering. Before the cooking starts in earnest, though, Connor and I will be going to let a friend’s dog out while they’re out of town for the holiday. Then I’ll be cooking the ham (from frozen, since we don’t have room to thaw it in the fridge, so it’ll take a while longer than usual), and making the side dishes I’ve planned. We’ll be hosting seven adults and two children total, which is the biggest Christmas we’ve had at our house yet. We’ll be opening some gifts, but saving the big ones for Christmas Day.

Monday is Christmas Day, where we open our gifts from Santa and from each other. Connor and I will check the stockings first thing, and our breakfast will likely be the candy Santa has left us (unless I decide to prep some sort of make-ahead bake-in-the-morning breakfast after everyone leaves the night before). Dad will get up around noonish, and maybe we’ll open presents before lunch, but probably after. Lunch will probably be Chinese, because that’s how we roll. It’s kind of a tradition.

I still don’t have the whole Christmas Spirit thing going on yet, though. I’ve felt glimmers of it, like when Connor and I were making cookies this week, or while I was packaging them up for the ladies at Extended Time last night, but… I mean, I’m looking forward to seeing everyone, and this is going to be the last Christmas I’ll get to spend with my Mom for who knows how long, since she and her new husband are moving to Florida come spring.

I’ve felt like this before: last year, for one, and many other years where I haven’t documented the occasion because LA LA LA NOPE I’M JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE MERRY CHRISTMAS.

Honestly, I’m really just looking forward to a joyous Christmas Eve with my family and, later, a chill Christmas Day full of presents and Chinese food and leftover ham.

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Do Not Want

Here we are again.

I want to be excited and happy and full of anticipation as my son embarks on his new kindergarten adventure next week. I want to infuse his upcoming birthday party with joy and cupcakes. Instead, I’m ambivalent. Tired. Going through the motions. My gardens are full of weeds and grasses, my to-do list keeps growing, and I can find zero fucks to give.

Perversely, my fatigue and apathy drive me to stay awake later, and eat poorly, which results in a poor night’s sleep, which deepens the fatigue, which helps keep the cycle going. This has been the pattern for a few days now — last night, I didn’t turn the lights out until after 11:30pm, which is well past my bedtime. I just didn’t care.

I’m recognizing it. It’s like I’m seeing myself from outside myself, willing myself to bust out, cheering myself on. This evening, while my son was bathing, I busted out some crunches and push-ups in an effort to get myself in a better headspace (and out of my smartphone). It kind of worked. It did something.

My plan for tonight (having already gorged on carbohydrates of various kinds) is to finish writing this, wait for Connor to ask for a foot massage and to talk, take care of some nightly clean-up in the kitchen, maybe take a swag at my to-do list, then go into the sunroom (where I haven’t relaxed for weeks) and chill with a magazine. Then, I’ll head upstairs around dusk and spend some quality time cleansing my face and whatnot, to continue the relaxation theme. If I’m not too tired, maybe I’ll do ten minutes of yoga before tucking into my graphic novel cookbook for a bit, then turning out the lights just after ten. That should leave me rejuvenated for a conference with Connor’s kindergarten teacher in the morning.

I have a plan. This is a step in the right direction. Executing that plan will be the next step.

Yes, I have to consciously work toward treating myself right. Lizard Brain doesn’t know shit about treating me right, and if I don’t plan ahead, that’s who ends up driving the bus.

depression 1 Comment

Same Old Story

A while back, I created a “depression” category for my blog and moved all my past relevant posts there. Since then, whenever I think about writing a post specifically about how my (undiagnosed) depression manifests itself, I go back and read some of the things I’ve already written, and then I kind of figure there’s no point in rewriting the same sad story a few months later.

That attitude is unhelpful, though, because 1.) I created the category partly to gauge how often I have these feelings, and 2.) writing and getting my thoughts out of my head is therapeutic for me the majority of the time.

Even so, the main way my depression manifests itself is a lack of interest in the things I usually enjoy — including writing. I don’t exactly have the best windows of time to freewrite, either: my brain is working best during the day, when I need to be devoting my brainpower to my paying job. By the time I have time to myself to write in the evenings, especially when I’m feeling blah like I am now — I’m done. It’s just not happening.

Today, I ended up tickety-tapping out some words here and there during my lunch and breaks. This needs to get out of my head. I need to recognize that I’m feeling all meh, talk some stuff out, and make sure this actually gets posted to my blog. (Unlike the few times I’ve felt like this and either started writing or thought about writing and then just gave up on it.)  Continue reading →