Kicked Off The Eyeland

I have been driving myself a little batty trying to recreate all the things I'm thinking and feeling and sharing in therapy.  It's so fucking empowering to finally have a glimpse back into my own psyche, where over the years those ideals were slowly boarded up and I kinda stopped looking for a crack in the wood.  Now with a little more discovery, I wanted to write through my experiences here; a chronicle of sorts so I don't lose another two decades to fuzzy memories.  But my new found muscles are still new and removing the nails takes time, so today I write something I am aware of.  go me.

~~~~~

My body is breaking down, isn't

I used to think the correlation to a numerical age was rubbish.  It was this fantastical concept drummed up by my husband, friends and the medical industry gremlins to sell pills.  Now I find myself kinda freaked by the subtle changes.  Because that means there are things I can control, like consistent physical activity, and then there are slow degenerations I can't.  Whether I ignored what was already in the works OR replicant witches have just cursed me using a fallen lash, I think my body is listening to their chants of change.  First one teetering on the brink of collapse - the eyes.  ok it's not really dramaticaville, but these blue iris' have always been 20/20 and now, not so much.  In fact, after a 2002 major car accident where my head became BFFs with the drivers side window, my eyes were better than 20/20.  didn't know that was even possible.

As a kid, eye ate carrots obsessively to the point my fingers were orange.  Eye liked them, still do.  Eye'd bring them to school in a plastic bag, along with a small orange tupperware filled with red catalina dressing.  Eye ate them under the pretense it was for sight, which for whatever reason grownups in my family insisted on telling me the benefits of most things they never ate.  bullocks.  When, err ummm, really it was because eye was the first in my class to experience the joy of acne.  Eye desperately wanted natural Vitamin A to be my cure all, a solution to make the teasing stop - when in reality eye could never eat that many.

Also as a kid, eye saw the optometrist every few years where he wrote in his little booklet how eye'd need reading glasses around 40.  pfffft, 40 was like forever from then.  But ballz - Eye'm 35 & hearing that dude whispering in my ear (which is a positive since eye have a decent case of indistinct tinnitus too - but that's not new so it doesn't count!!)  Eye feel like pleading before the Eye Council; Don't kick me out, eye still have so much to give!  Eye'd beg and plead and do anything to see it through till death.

So now - tiny print is a little fuzzy; license plates a bit scrambly at night; the computer screen brightness ticked a bit higher.  If only these changes were related to like fluffy kittens or something, it wouldn't seem so crappy.



booooooooo weirdo agey things.

Someone Else's Depression

I realized while fumbling along and eventually seeing this journal come together, it is a parallel for my experience of 2015.  Confusion, frustration, safety, lows, highs, discovery and optimism.  what a trip.

~~~~~

In therapy, we spend a fair amount of time working to unravel nearly 3 decades of fully locked away shit.  Friends, parents, relationships, and oh did I mention parents.  But more importantly & more personally, it's finding a way to unlock the root cause of my inability to consistently identify & articulate what I'm feeling, thinking, want, expect, and need.  I truly believe that is the missing key for my entire scrambled puzzle.  Talk, talk, talk by question and answer so I can arrive at a conclusion.  It's simple in principal, complicated in practice.  Imagine trying to describe a Picasso painting, with its individual abstract pieces.  You know it's a beautiful image when it comes together, but it's not so easy to explain.  It's not every time and I certainly manage for the most part, but moments beyond a surface emotion can take hours, days, if not weeks putting to voice.  Luckily none of it crosses into the workplace or I'd really be screwed, because then I'd never know I am capable.  So why me?  I have important things to say (and ok some are silly,) but we all have a point of view to share and I fight hard for mine.  Internalizing this build up nearly every damn day, I just want to fucking scream so I can control something.  anything.  Even writing this entry, I walked around the house randomly thunking down the laptop hoping a change of scenery would help.  But I get distracted, so I daydream of a beautiful sun-lit patio that would easily carry my thoughts or the perfect modern artist studio, where I can be alone & create.  Would it be easier then?

the silent wails are longing to speak free.

Lady Therapist reminds me we're unraveling years of conditioning and it takes time to shift a psyche.  That the process will totally be messy, bumpy and uncomfortable, but in the end it will be ok.  It will be positive.  I know that, but it's still nice to hear.  I draw on that realness when reflecting on the minimal progress of some areas, because I have seen progress - decently on a few even.  And that's rad, more rad today than I thought could be achieved 7 months ago.  I felt alone then, not so much now, and know it'll be even less in the future.  Each week I embrace the time needed to fully work through the caverns because it's worth it.

~~~~~

I've witnessed depression: many friends share their experiences openly; my husband has had it nearly his entire life; I've even understood what those cheezy commercials for pills were saying.  Others' application of the label seemed effortless.  And yet I never saw those same behaviors in myself.  It was someone else's sadness I tried to comfort, never mine.  I always saw their depression, not mine.

December especially, I bounced around vague's bandwagon more so than other months.  Joy to lowly-low sadness, generous to maybe next year, productive to who gives a fuck.  And I'm talking near instantaneously having the pendulum swing violently from one side to the other.  The physical manifestation of something I couldn't pinpoint, resonating in my chest and back, shoulders bearing the weight of 1000 index fingers furiously jingling about all the things I'm working to understand.  The electric like fury attacking the most innerly sensitive parts of my heart & mind, not giving a shit.  The only thing I could do was sit on the floor, hold my head, shut my eyes and wish it away...

I spent so much time focusing on someone else's anything, I never understood depression was happening to me.  Understanding how far back it goes is still TBD.  But for whatever reason, Sunday December 18 the right combination of neurons & atoms made the connection.  I was alone, just as I was 24 hours prior, but it was a totally opposite experience.  Saturday had been productive, making jam & listening to christmas music classics.  Frank, Bing, Burl... the digital jukebox spun.  The doors were open, letting in the crisp air while Leroy played with his toys in the yard or slept in the sun.  I was fully enjoying the day, excited to share yum things with friends.  Then Sunday happened, and I was alone again, but productivity went undercover.  I found myself extremely overwhelmed by christams, unmotivated to really do anything.  I didn't want to make gifts, I wanted to write through the feeling but as usual didn't know what to say.  Music seemed pointless, I missed Travis, the yard needed tending to, the list of stuff to get done seemed 12 stories tall and I wanted nothing to do with any of it.

Peering down, I pitied the person I was at that moment.  I didn't bother reconciling how different a day makes.  I didn't care, I just knew it existed.  Another bout of well I guess this is normal.  However, there were commitments and bummed on the couch or bummed finishing them, was still bummed.  So I harnessed what little motivation was inside and swung my legs to the floor.  They say taking the steps towards doing something is the hardest part.  I less than enthusiastically dialed in the christmas music, because at least it could drown out the void.  I started prepping the blackberry basil jam that I can happily say, is divine.  I wasn't very far into the process when I stopped to review the recipe.  At that moment, staring at the computer screen, my eyes & brain went fuzzy.  Like when an analog TV station would fine tune its signal, it kinda skipped and buzzed and jumped around, landing on a fresh new picture.  That's when it clicked, "OH MY GAWD YOU'RE DEPRESSED AND THAT'S WHY YOU'VE BEEN FEELING THIS WAY."  And like the opposite of clouds parting, that moment of clarity made way for the pouring of tears.  I'm not weird, I'm not off, this is normal and I just now realized it!  grrrr x 100 - why had it taken so long?  it probably needed to.

A set of mixed emotions flooded my body.  I was sad, scared, yet suddenly optimistic & a little joyous.  I was certainly teetering between the two like a tight-rope walker.  on one end of the pole: you're depressed, you can't be happy VS. the other side: no I got that, but I have this sticker now and have assigned it accordingly.  I found out the relief of said descriptive tag is quite common.  Which ever way I wobble, I'm just grateful for finally experiencing the association.  And as I discover more about this thing through talk & read, standing together with others' who may be more versed, we don't face anything alone.

When I told Travis after he got home from his comedy show, I mentioned this strange desire for peers to acknowledge it before I could apply the term.  Like is the act of saying mean it's a thing or am I stealing a badge not yet earned.  I know that's daft, but it's a sensitive subject & one that can't be taken lightly.  And I'm sure people use the word to explain all kinds of behaviours away and I don't want to ever be lumped together with tools.  Here's to therapy helping me understand more, but I can only assume, among other things, depression is why I entertain the following notions: that I'm not as good at this or that, or as so & so; why I question my choices, my statements, my opinions, my voice, my body, my mind, my heart, my perception, and my emotions.  Why I judge myself so harshly; why I'm so mean to me; talk cruelly to me when I make a wrong decision; find it incredibly difficult to ask for help; shut down when you think my idea is no good; cry at a poor choice I made 16 years ago; why I set unrealistic expectations no one could live up to; why I repeat you'll never be pretty enough to that same junior high face that stared in the gym class mirror; refuse the notion it's ok to do something for myself; and why my parents are just these people I know.

~~~~~

Doom and gloom it would seem - yes, there is that right now.  And if you're thinking dude, you've written words I totally understand, even though I may not identify with - what you're reading has taken weeks to prepare and hit more stop signs I care to quantify.  But in the spirit of exercising my atrophied kind to self muscles, there are swell things to celebrate around me and of me.  I make a mean cake doughnut bread pudding, will go out of my way for a friend, can say "what the fuck do you want" in thai, sing off-key like a beautiful turkey, immensely dig running and hiking, have a ridiculously lame cupcake joke at the ready, enjoy making art, reading, mmmm dear friends, I am an intrinsically solid bird, am an advocate for all animal rights, look fantastic in a backless gown, am supportive & loyal (just don't cross me or I'll slash yer tire,) love walking to take photographs, can smile with my eyes, and am a healthy ball of flesh.  Of course there will always be tweaks & adjustments, reminders and forgetments, new finds and goal achievements, plus others I'll keep for myself right now.

Then there's Travis. my Travis, who is the one person that can inherently make the day better just by existing, no matter how I'm feeling on the smile scale.  He himself has also started therapy and working to discover a happy he's had locked away - which in turn, makes me incredibly stoked.  We help each other through our own sessions and are better partners because of it.  And Leroy, my 100% certified sweet boy.  Whose little face & ears I never want to stop squishing & hugging and kissing... and no matter how stubborn that 22lb body gets, he is an incredible being that makes my family complete.

I took a proud step of therapy last year, that act of kindness I hardly show myself.  I've unwound a lot from my past and through my own capability, connected it to now (both the obvious and obscure.)  I challenge myself daily on the things I continue to work on because it's all an opportunity to learn.  I will use this to progress forward through my verbal challenges.  I'll try new-for-me techniques, because the definition of insane...

No matter how often a setback tricks me into thinking I've failed, I am always moving in the right direction - it just may not be how I saw the path yesterday.

I am depressed, but I won't let it define me. (thumbs up.)