I posted a quote on my facebook earlier tonight...the song has been in my head for some time. It's one that's been nagging at me and just wouldn't go away, so I listened to it tonight. Honestly I had forgotten most of the lyrics...it was mainly the song title and the band floating around in my head with the melody. As I listened to the words I was taken back to the thousands of times I've listened to this song before.
Some of the times were happier than tonight. Some were far, far sadder. It's just...the song...while not the story of my life by any means, (I mean, I KNOW my dad and aside from business trips he was consistently in the picture) just makes sense to me. I FEEL it. I know it's pain and it's hopefulness. It's insistence on "okay" and the reluctance to admit a certain defeat...
It's a hard song to describe for me. I have the ability to twist things so that they make sense to my frame of reference, and this song? It just fits right now.
The lyrics that have always gotten me...even before counting myself among those who were tattooed...
The scars run deep inside this tattooed body, there's things I'll take to my grave. But I'm okay. I'm okay. It's been a long hard road without you by my side. Why weren't you there on the nights that we cried....it's not okay, but it's alright.
Perhaps it's the sense of conflict that I relate to. Perhaps I'm making way more out of this song than was intended. At least tonight it's provided me some solace...and a jumping point for some serious thinking and reflection.
And yes, I'm okay. Honestly. Some days rule. Some days suck. Some days are just days to get through. The one thing I know for sure though, EVERY day is worth living.
Should you want to hear the song that's currently in my head and in my heart...here it is.
I took today off. I called and said exactly what's wrong with me: I'm not me today. I haven't been in over a week. And I hate it. I hate feeling as if I'm stuck in some kind of fog. Like I'm living a version of my own life...but not as myself.
I'm a pretty happy person. Dramatic? Definitely. Sad? At times. I struggle with depression and anxiety, but it's been quite some time since I've just thrown my hands up and admitted surrender to the depression. I used to be angry all the time. Harboring resentment and nasty feelings. It made me feel nasty and angry at myself.
So I started my old blog, the one where I wrote about doing at least ONE nice thing a day for myself. I've continued to do those nice things...until lately. Lately...my husband has been the one picking up the slack in the being nice to Ashley department. I've been busy being furiously angry and heart breakingly sad.
I woke up this morning crying. Pressed into Jeff's arms I struggled to breathe normally, to stop crying, and to get out of the bed. I showered. My chest felt as though a house was on top of it. And I couldn't go any further than that shower. I called my boss. I sent texts to coworkers. I drove Jeff to work and did grocery shopping. And then I stopped.
I have written in my journal. I've done laundry. I attempted a nap. I've listened to some music. Defragged my computer. Screwed around on Pinterest. And that's what I needed to do today. I needed a day where the only pressure or schedule I had involved making sure I got Jeff to and from work...and that we get to eat tonight. I really went above and beyond with all that laundry *note sarcasm*
And here's the nicest thing I've done all day. I've set my mind to stopping the sad. The issues causing the feelings won't disappear. But I refuse to let myself mope around for one more day. Jeff and I are newlyweds...that's trickier than we thought...but still amazing. There are constant stresses that are so seemingly insignificant but laundry piles up...groceries disappear. Between the everyday chaos, working with 2 year olds, and trying to find balance in an already completely new lifestyle (wife, stepmother, living in a totally new place...) I just wasn't ready to handle the really huge family stresses that came my way. I'm not sure how I would handle things differently should this happen again...but I do know that attempting to take it all on and feel like I had to do it myself (even when Jeff was offering all the help in the world) was dumb. And once I let him help me...well...I was too far gone to function.
So, after today, I'm done not being Ashley. For a while anyway. Will I still be sad? Of course. But tomorrow morning when I wake up...I won't be crying. I'll get out of bed and shower and laugh. I'll drive to work and have amazing conversations with Jeff instead of him having to ask if I'm okay...and figuring out how to handle the inevitable "no" that follows.
I know I won't succeed every single step of the way. And I know I'll slip back into sad. But tomorrow I'm going to work with a renewed love of teaching the kids. I'm going back smiling instead of trying to hide. I'm going back as the Ms. Ashley that the kids know and love. And I'm coming home to dinner with my husband to watch a Bulls game and not constantly worry about everything. I'm going to live the best...and happiest...that I can from second to second.
*pardon the crazy eyes....I got my eye make-up done for a date night look with pink last night at Sephora and wanted to make sure I could see how to redo it...but since I'm smiling and I love pink....that's the me I will be again tomorrow! Find something to smile about yourself!
Mood: "I'm still alive, but I'm barely breathing..."
Today we had mandatory training sessions at work from 8-4. Last night I called saying that I was just far too overwhelmed and stressed out and I just needed a day where I could relax. Where the only thing I had to worry about was baking a cake for Malcolm's 3rd birthday and spending time with the boys.
That was the day I dreamed about. That was not, however, the way my day went. I've been stressed with family issues for a week now, some with good reason, some just general dynamic stuff. An old friend became an ex-friend after saying that she couldn't be bothered to care about what was going on with my family. I was brokenhearted and reacted horribly.
For the rest of the week (and this happened on Tuesday) I couldn't concentrate at work. I really needed a day to just tend to my feelings, to be present and just live instead of worrying. Since Tuesday night, I have felt constantly ill and I've been starting fights with Jeff. It's hard when you have a limited support system at your physical side. And as I came to learn today it's hard when your long distance support system wants to...well...not be supportive.
I always censor my status updates, my blogs, my words in vocal conversations. The only place I am truly uncensored is in my written journal.
It's just this is weighing so heavily on my mind that I need it written. I need it out. And the journal just didn't do it for me.
I'm horrible with words...unless I am writing. With written words I can express what only my tears or silence can during a physical conversation.
While I want to get this all out of me and this is MY blog...I also don't want to use it maliciously. I want it to be therapeutic, fun, hopeful...
Only today, I lost hope. Truly. I cannot understand how some people can be so incredibly and intentionally mean spirited. I do know that I've recently said many things I have immediately regretted out of anger. And they've come back to haunt me already...twice. I've been writing and praying and trying to keep my head above water all week.
I'm still just barely above surface...and I feel as if I could drown at any second. It would be all too easy to just sort of...let go.
But I don't want to. I have a life I've worked hard to build. A relationship that makes me happy even when it sucks and gets hard. A (step)son that I got to bake an angry birds cake for today. A job that even on it's most stressful days I genuinely love. And a new set of friends that I'm seriously grateful for.
With all of that I'm still at a complete loss as to what my next step is. And I do mean my very next step. One second I'm ready to get in my car and just disappear. The next I'm convinced going to bed is the only thing that will help ameliorate my feelings. And then the next? I'm so battered that I'm shaking and weeping, and the only thing I can imagine is...well...nothing. Because my faith in myself has been so irreparably shattered today that I have no idea what to do. And no idea what I want to do.
I know that as of today my life has changed...I'm just not exactly sure how yet. I know that sleep will help...but I also know that the chest pain and panic will creep in around 4am and I'll be frozen with this horrible feeling of despair.
Sometimes the only thing we can do is literally take the next step. One foot in front of the other. One breath in and out. And trust that we know what we're doing.
No matter how old I am, how mature I feel, or how far I manage to get, I will always remember exactly how I felt at certain ages of my life.
The days where black leotards and pink ballet slippers meant everything that is pretty and perfect in the world. The Barbie that you just HAD to have. The hairstyle that ever single girl in my class was wearing flawlessly, except for me. The jeans I couldn't quite fit into. The acne that somehow dotted my face more pervasively than my peers. The lack of attention from males. The desire to be kissed. The longing for a boyfriend. The having the first boyfriend. The primping before prom.
Sometimes, I wonder if I've managed to grow up at all. I may look more grown up than I did at 18, and I certainly am more mature in some aspects...but I can't help but wonder how far I've actually come.
The more I think about babies...the more reading I do...the more I find myself wondering whether or not I'm really grown up enough to have one of my own. Chronologically speaking I'm definitely ready. I've graduated from high school, college, worked on my master's...I have a job and I'm married happily. I have a (step)son that I couldn't love more...and I'm genuinely ready to hold my own infant in my arm's...but...
I still feel like that lost little girl. Not the one in a tutu and tight bun...she had no fears and life was nothing more than sequins and flowers given for twirling...but the one who never knew that it mattered how you wore your hair. The one who had never been kissed. The one who still has never had a Valentine.
I struggle with questioning how I can raise a child if I'm still working on raising myself?
I suppose that I should emphasize that I am NOT pregnant. Nor has there been a concerted effort to even conceive yet...it's just...the thought and the will...and the desire in me is enough to scare me. And I think that it's a good thing to be scared...to an extent. Having, and subsequently caring for, another human being is the greatest commitment, honor, privilege, challenge, and responsibility that I can imagine and...am I REALLY ready?
I've been married for just under 4 months. And I couldn't be happier. But if 10 months ago you'd ask me if I was prepared for marriage I would have answered no.
I never ceased to be amazed at how life ensures that you're ready for things...even if you still have questions. And doubts. And fears. I assume that one is never 100% ready for anything that happens...from taking the morning shower (who doesn't want 5 more minutes of sleep) to buying a house (can we say long term?)...but where there's a will, there's a way.
I'll never lose the 16 year old awkward version of me...and that's a good thing probably. She keeps me humble. And the tiny ballerina with her painted red lipstick and sugarplum dreams reminds me that life is beautiful, and that there are nothing but possibilities if you just know how to look...
What really matters, though, is who I am today. Who I will be tomorrow. And who I know I can be.
Who I want to be.
I'll get there. In the meantime I'll continue to question, to ponder, to fear, to hope, and to dream. And honestly? I think that's exactly how it should be.
It's 3:04pm on a Saturday afternoon. I'm blogging from beneath a quilt, wearing sweats and a Millersville shirt. I've showered...done 2 loads of laundry....started my boards on Pinterest...and read half of my current literary obsession Whip Smart: The True Story of a Secret Life. And it's been a fantastic day. The dawning of today marked the first of 48 hours during which Jeff and I had NOTHING (besides laundry) that HAD to be done. Nothing. No errands that can't wait. No holiday events or parties. No bank runs or grocery runs. Nothing.
And it feels phenomenal. And indulgent. And sooooooooo odd. And I kind of hate that I am feeling like emotional crap today.
I'm not used to sitting all day and being...lazy. And I always say that all I want is to have NOTHING to do. I like having the chance to be lazy...most of the time. But, secretly, I hate it as well. For a few reasons. The most prevalent one today, though, is the PMS. I've been having really depressing PMS lately. Not like I sink into an actual depression, I'm just not myself. I was trying to tell the husband how I felt earlier and all I could come up with was the line from the 40 Year-Old Virgin where Leslie Mann screams "Gaaaaaaaaaaaaawd, I hope I get my period soon...I am in SUCH A BAD MOOD!"
Is there a menstruating woman alive who can't relate to that feeling? It is so frustrating to be in this horrendous mood even when you honestly do feel fine. But you don't. You're happy and annoyed and...honestly...it's just all very exhausting. I'm a big believer in honoring feelings....especially if they're painful and hard and frustrating...but there does come a point in time where faking happiness or plastering a smile on your face can be incredibly useful. There most definitely is wisdom in the old adage "fake it till you make it."
Which brings me to why I sometimes dislike being having nothing to do. I've stayed busy reading. Wasting time online. Doing laundry. Talking with the husband. Watching tv. Showering. It's just...I don't know.
I had a fantastic date night with Jeff last night. And my work week was hectic, but overall, good. Jeff and I had an exhausting week for numerous reasons...and I thought that I wanted nothing more than to just do nothing. All weekend. I do. And I don't. I am itching to get out of the house....but every single time Jeff and I think of something to do, the thought of leaving the house feels overwhelming and not fun. Even though I KNOW I should get out...perhaps for nothing else than to grab a cup of coffee or some frozen yogurt or walk around Target or get a tattoo or...SOMETHING. Something just to force me out of my own funk.
I know it's natural to get like this, especially in the winter. And I could feel it coming on yesterday so I made a preemptive strike and finally used a holiday gift certificate to pamper myself with a manicure (which I am soooooooooooo loving today!). Apparently this is one of those super annoying parts of womanhood that I just have to ride out.
If it weren't so cold out, I'd be walking...I feel the need to be outside...and I got super spoiled by the wonderful weather this week (64 degrees in Iowa in January...uh okay!). Maybe instead I'll give in to the annoying headache and nap before settling in with the husband for the Bulls game tonight.
And go to bed promising myself that if I wake up all funk-y tomorrow...I'll force myself out. Cold or not. Overwhelmed or not. Just for a bit. And I'll fake a happy face until it's genuine...because sometimes...that's all you can do.
Today was rough. It was the first day that I've had to be up at 5:30am since last Thursday...and that is quite an unhappy time for Ashley. I considered calling in to work after a rather upset stomach but decided that since it was only a 4 day week I should head in.
Work wasn't bad...and I do love spending time with the kids...but...like any position there are pros and cons. I'd like to think that there is that ONE job or career or position that will make me 100% happy all of the time...but I know that no matter how much I love what I'm doing there will always be negatives. And I really truly do love what I am doing right now. Being a preschool teacher is rewarding in ways that I never thought possible from working in a daycare. I always assumed it was like glorified babysitting. That couldn't be farther from what I do everyday. And I couldn't be happier that that's the case.
Anyway. Work was...work today. Getting back into the routine won't be easy for either myself or the kids, but it'll happen. And like I said it wasn't a bad day, but it wasn't particularly a good day either. Jeff picked me up from work and we headed to the grocery store, which was just about as stressful as the almost 9 hours of work. But I was in a good mood by the time we finished dinner and started hanging out together. Fortunately for me, Jeff has the awesome ability to calm me down and cheer me up just by being near me.
While watching How I Met Your Mother and checking my facebook, I decided I'd check out my old account. The one I created during my time as a Christian Ed. director.
I've written before that when I'm feeling upset, especially if I can't really identify a reason, I like to "pick the scab." I like to do things that I know will upset me. I don't know exactly why. Maybe cause I know I have pent up emotions and I want them out. Maybe cause I'm just mean to myself some days, who knows? So tonight as I read through my old account, I looked at the profile of the current Christian Ed. director. Well, the one she set up for the church.
I knew they had one. I found that out quite a few months ago. She shares my name. She sits at my old desk, she mentors "my" kids. I was brokenhearted when I found out that they had hired a new CE director. It served to reinforce that the people I worked with and for, didn't value my opinion in the least.
And that hurts. It hurt me for a whole year...and I feel like I should be past it but...I'm not. I know that I miss having a title. And I know that I miss having my own office. I miss the feeling that I had a position that my parents could be proud of. Education was stressed in my family. Get educated, get a good job, make money, be happy. That's pretty much what I thought would happen. I have the college degree. I have 2/3 of my graduate degree...I missed the good job part though. And with that came the money.
The dumbest thing about being sad about missing an office and the title is that I may have missed the money...but I'm happy. And isn't that what we all REALLY want in life? I mean, I have a wonderful husband who I honestly just enjoy sitting next to. I have a great and welcoming family in Iowa. I have a supportive and awesome family in PA who never cared about titles or positions and are proud of me no matter what. I have a fantastic (step)son who makes me smile just by breathing. And I do have a job I like. Very much.
I'm not sure when I'll be able to reconcile to myself that it's okay to be happy where you are at. It's okay to want more and be ambitious. But it's dangerous to get caught up in all of the "coulds" and "shoulds" of life. If I had my Master of Divinity I would most likely not be sitting next to the most amazing man (besides my father) that I've ever met. If I had stayed in my position as CE director I'd be burning through anxiety meds faster than they could be prescribed as the stress I felt just walking into the church made me physically ill.
There is nothing wrong with where I am in life. I know that. In fact, I have a level of happy that many people won't get to experience. So why must I make myself feel like I should be better, or more financially successful?
It's just one of the demons I fight in myself. I have since I was in 4th grade when I got my very first B on a report card. And it's something I'll continue to fight. I'll probably head to the bed in a few minutes, crack open one of the new books I got for Christmas, and continue to feel sad and not quite good enough.
Tomorrow when I get up, see the man I wake up next to, and get a hug from the children I teach...I'll be fine.
And sometimes...fine is all you can ask for.
And...even though I picked at my "not feeling good enough" wounds...I did do something nice for myself tonight. I deactivated that facebook account so I can no longer pick at those hurts. And I'm proud of that.
Mood: ....no that's too strong, for it is my favorite holiday......
It's Friday evening. I feel old knowing that the thing I'm most excited about tonight is sleep. Being completely honest, if I weren't being a stepmother, I'd most likely be in bed at this second...and yes it's before 7:00. I've worked another 40+ hour week. I'm fighting another cold (thank you Iowa for your season indecision and kids with your snotty noses...) and I'm currently surfing the crimson wave (I have always wanted to use that line from Clueless). It most likely goes without saying that I'm not in a good mood.
I'm in a decidedly foul mood. I currently hate myself for a million reasons that I've just made up in my head and I am so tired that I'm honestly having a hard time seeing straight without things blurring up. It's close to a week away from Christmas and I haven't sent out my family's box. I haven't even finished shopping for my family. And I know they don't care about the gifts...but I do. It matters to me. I haven't wrapped a single gift and I'm not sure when I'll have the time to. I haven't slept well in at least 3 nights and I'm currently going on hour 7 without food.
The thing that is making me most upset? I can't turn off the racing thoughts. I can't shut my own head up. No matter what I scream at myself in my brain, no matter how many deep breaths I take, no matter how many silent prayers I lift...I CAN'T STOP. Ever. For the last two weeks it's been nonstop, incessant chatter in my head. Things I've left undone ranging from laundry to finishing my seminary degree. Things that may or may not be in my control. Things that...well you get the idea.
I've been wanting to blog all week. I keep putting it off. Why do today what can be done tomorrow, right? I hate blogging when I'm in a bad mood cause I want this blog to reflect my "happily ever after." But tonight I realized that every single happy ending isn't all happy, is it? Maybe for Walt Disney it was...and that makes for a great movie or story or theme park...but every real marriage and relationship and "happily ever after" that I know has bad days. Hell...the Bible has some REALLY nasty days. So I figure if I'm going to write about my marriage and my life then only writing when happy does both my readers and myself a disservice. It's not fair to pretend to be happy all the time for anyone. And I'm not unhappy...just having a rough time lately. It's my first Christmas away from family...and my first Christmas married...my first Christmas as a (step)mom but it'll have to be spent without the son...it's dark and winter...it's long hours at work...it's stressful work...but I'm not unhappy. In fact I am indeed very happy. It's all just a very bittersweet happy I suppose.
I have a hair appointment tomorrow at the Aveda Institute...which I LOVED the last time I was there. Hopefully getting my hair colored and trimmed will help me to just completely zone out. To shut myself up and turn off my brain, even if only for an hour or two. To just allow myself some "me" time. To be pampered and to REALLY feel as good on the inside as I know I should and do...if that even makes sense....
May you be experiencing a joyous holiday season...and may you take time to find the still and quiet in the midst of the noise and the hurry
I've been avoiding blogging. I've been avoiding a lot of things lately to be honest. Taking care of myself is high up there on that list. I've stopped doing Pilates, started drinking more soda and less water, stopped eating, stopped writing and coloring...the only thing I've managed to continue is reading and maintaining some forms of communication with the husband. I know all of this is leading to me being tired and cranky and sad and depressed...but it's one of those periods during which I just don't care.
And I know I should. It's not just me that needs me anymore. There's the husband. The stepson. The dog. My family back in PA. It seems this year that Seasonal Affect Disorder means business with me. And it's taking all I have to fight it...some days the only thing I feel like I've accomplished is getting out of bed.
Since it's December 11, this funk is particularly frustrating. I loooooooooooooooove Christmas. Actually I love the entire winter season. I know...it's cold and snowy and dark...but I love it. I don't necessarily love being cold and now that I drive I dislike snow on any weekday...but the season always makes me feel...warm and happy.
I can't remember exactly how old I was...but I remember the first time I went skiing. It was with a church group and I never left the bunny hill and I had to pee so badly that I wet myself (nervous bladder)...but I fell in love with it. My dad encouraged my love of skiing and when I was in 3rd grade I started taking official lessons at Blue Mountain. I became a Mountaineer, then a member of the Blue Mountain Ski Team, PARA (Pennsylvania Racing Association), and the U.S. Ski Team (uhhhh like division Z but I still count it). The older I got the more time we spent at the Mountain. There were preseason training sessions, the obligatory Saturday and Sunday 8-12 lessons and practices, the travel races, the midweek training sessions....but my favorite thing? Skiing during free time with my daddy.
I'll admit I wasn't the world's best skier, and I certainly wasn't ranked high in the girls division...but I wasn't bad either. I left skiing in order to attend confirmation class...which required Sunday morning attendance.
Last night I was thinking about that decision. And the season. And my funk. And the fact that the last time I was at any type of religious ceremony it was my wedding. Almost 3 months ago.
This Christmas is Jeff and I's first together. And I'm thrilled to be spending it with him. It's also his first Christmas without Malcolm (who will be spending it with his mother) and my first Christmas without any member of my blood family near me. While it's exciting to have a new family to celebrate with...I miss all the familiarity of the Christmas season with my family. The crazy marathon shopping days with Caitlyn and Mom. Watching college basketball with Daddy. Heading out to "Lights in the Parkway" in Allentown. Buying Christmas presents for the puppies. Starting the annual hunt for stockings with Mommy that ends with us buying replacements. The candles that are constantly burning with Christmas cookie smells...the Christmas baking...the crazy amount of church services...
I know that it's time to form my own traditions with Jeff...but it's hard to get excited about the holidays when it doesn't feel like the holidays. There's no skiing, there's no going to cut down the Christmas tree, and there's no marathon shopping with the girls. This winter just feels cold. And stressful.
Jeff and I watched "Christmas Vacation" last night and I watched "Elf" this morning...part of my annual holiday season celebration. I'll continue that by watching them again while wrapping presents. I'll buy stockings for Jeff and I and find some fruit to shove at the bottom (which my mother and father do every SINGLE year even though some years it's rotted at the bottom of the stocking....). I'll force Jeff to take a picture with me sitting on the stairs to the basement (another tradition from my family) and I'll get around to baking cookies with Jeff and Malcolm. But most importantly, I'll try to remind myself that Christmas isn't just a season...it's a feeling. It's a celebration. And it's spiritual. I can't actively participate in any of this if I'm just going through the motions of everyday. I need to get excited again.
I need to eat. I need to drink water again. I need to resume exercising and writing. I need to find a spiritual happy place.
Since I was a little girl I've hated Sunday nights. Most people do, the end of the weekend isn't exactly a happy time. And since it's me Sunday nights used to be...extreme. I would spend hours bawling about having to go back to school/work. From the moment I woke up I would start the gut wrenching countdown. In 5th grade my therapist suggested doing something, as a family, that both soothed me and made me happy. Some Sundays we would go out or order in Chinese (my eternal comfort food). Other Sundays Mommy would pop popcorn, pile on the couch with me, and watch tv. She'd even rub my back.
To be honest, the couch and tv routine continued until I moved to Iowa. The last job I held in Pennsylvania become a constant source of anxiety and Sunday nights became watching Jonas (juvenile? indeed. comforting...insanely) night with Mommy and Caitlyn.
Now that I'm an adult I've had to figure out ways to keep the anxiety level at a minimum for myself. Without relying on Daddy to pick up the tab at the Chinese restaurant or Mommy to give up time with her husband to watch the Disney channel with me or Caitlyn to finger dance and host light switch raves to make me laugh.
Jeff and I had to say goodbye to the son tonight, and that's never fun. That's a huge understatement. The whole ordeal of saying goodbye is utterly depressing.
Given my current state of depression, I was really worried about tonight. It's a crappy feeling to walk away from the son...and I hate watching Jeff go through that pain. I'm facing my first full week of full-time work at a job I'm not familiar or comfortable with yet. And...as I stated earlier...I'm already feeling depressed.
One of my very favorite things about Jeff is that he keeps me calm. Always. Of course I get anxious or depressed around him,but it's never to the extent that I feel like it's impossible to manage.
Tonight is no different. I've spent the last hour coloring a prayer for the upcoming year. Jeff and I have settled in front of the tv with drinks (rum and tropical fruit juice for the husband...shiraz for me) and we're enjoying our Sunday night dramas. I'm still anxious. I'm still not looking forward to getting up tomorrow morning...but I know it'll be okay because I get to wake up next to my husband. And since we're working the same hours this week...I get to run errands with him (and maybe grab dinner out!!!!) tomorrow night. I get to get ready for work with him. Laugh with him. Pack lunches next to each other.
I don't want this post to diminish the role that my family played when I was younger. They did everything they could to make Sunday nights as painless as possible. And Caitlyn continued that until last year.
It's just...with marriage...the knowledge that I get to do EVERYTHING with somebody by my side, no exceptions, it's so soothing and calming that it's hard to get too worked up about going back to work on a Monday. Besides, I won't get comfortable with this new job unless I'm there to work it...and Christmas is coming........
I hope you all had a great weekend. And that you find something to make you feel as blessed as I do lounging in front of our (brand new awesome 36" LCD....loooooooooove wedding presents) television.
Mood: ....now it's time to sing along.......everybody hurtssssssss
Spoiler: the title is emo...the post is not.
It's been one of those days. Well, to be honest...it's been one of those days for a little over a week now. You know those days. The ones where nothing goes wrong, nothing catastrophic happens, nothing really noteworthy at all occurs...in fact some good things happen, and there are some happy moments...but you still just feel...meh? Yeah, those days.
I find these days incredibly frustrating. Having lived with depression for nearly 17 years I have a pretty good handle on what's going on with my body. I can feel myself starting to slip into a funk...and I get so annoyed when I know that's what's happening...but there's absolutely no reason behind it. At all.
Let's start with last weekend...when the nagging feeling of not being okay set in. The husband was on call, so we started Saturday by heading in to his office. He stayed pretty busy all day but we managed to do some grocery shopping (which for some reason I find delightful) and had a pretty good day. Sunday...slow day at work so we baked together. Jeff really wanted to try the rum cake from the Caribbean (daddy yours will be on the way soon!) but because of the dairy allergy was unable to. He researched recipes until he found one without any dairy and we decided to test it. Can I just tell you how amazing it tasted and how much fun it was to bake as a couple?
Sunday ended with the season premiere of The Walking Dead and we followed that by our new obsession, Homeland. It was an amazing end to the weekend.
Monday I got a job. Major yay! since I was starting to seriously freak out about not having one...and interviews weren't even being offered anymore. Wednesday the husband and I headed to the old apartment and emptied it. Well...he emptied it and I cleaned/packed. It feels awesome to have that done and not over my head anymore. I'm so happy to have all my things (okay most of my things) in one place.
Thursday I started the job. Last night we got the boy.
I woke up this morning to a discussion between Jeff and Malcolm about autobots and something unknown and undecipherable...all I know is that I woke up feeling like the luckiest woman in the world. To have two boys in bed with me that I love...it's a feeling I honestly have no words for. From there the day went a bit askew....but picked up again.
Malcolm and Mom and Daddy played. We all shot each other. We ran around outside. We watched Optimus Prime defeat evil once again...
So...
Why am I still upset? Why do I have this constant feeling of being unsettled and unhappy and...anxious?
I have a few ideas. And some concrete things that are upsetting...but nothing that would warrant depression. My life is pretty damn good right now. I couldn't be happier with married life. I have the BEST time baking and watching tv with Jeff. Work is chaotic...but I love working with kids and I'm honestly just grateful to be employed once again. Jeff and I get to spend this weekend and next weekend with the boy. I'm eating healthier. I'm staying active. I'm honestly insanely blessed and happy.
I know this. I acknowledge this. And I still feel...like crap.
The REALLY crappy thing about feeling so unsettled and generally sad for no reason...is that you know you're sad for NO REASON. Which makes you feel worse for feeling bad when you know you shouldn't feel bad...
It's a nasty little cycle.
I'm taking my meds. I'm writing. I colored today. I'm talking to Jeff.
But the depression is settling...at least for now.
So here's what I promise to myself: I'll continue to deal with the sadness and the uneasiness the only way I know how...to move forward one foot at a time and to keep looking for the good things...no matter how small or how simple (like wearing a purple scarf to stand united against bullying, ignorance, and intolerance)...
