Stay here

Last night was rough. I woke up and alluded my existence to that of a mold, bacteria, or worst of all, a leech. The life is sucked out of me and I'm afraid I suck the life out of those around me with my downtrodden attitude and whispers. I decided in my sleepy-time stupor that there is no reason for me to be here anymore. I cried and cried--Ronald woke up. He held and read to me until I fell back to sleep.

This morning I feel wasted, once again used up like an old peeled sponge. I wait for him to come home--I hold on. I wait for the pills to work--I hold on. The demon looks me straight in the eye, and I hold on. To stay in the center, away from any jagged edges. That is the death defying challenge.

derby

Maker's Mark Mint Julep is going to be the death of me. It is so yummy and reminds me of The Great Gatsby. Today we are going to muddle berries into it and create our own version of a bourbon cobbler.

Ron is over at his parents house helping with yard work and I am home with my little nuzzling cold. Its no fun being sick on a Saturday. Its no fun being sick and depressed at the same time.

I feel like I'm somewhere I don't want to be. Wandered and trapped in this scathing disease. I'm lost and lonely and all I can think of is how my head is pounding. My heart is fumbled, silica, I am amongst the glass works--fragile and fibrillated.

lullaby

Here is our new clock. I absolutely adore it and think it will look marvelous on our blue green walls in the living room. Now just to hang it...

I think I am getting a cold. I feel like it never ends for me. I start feeling a little better then get food poisoning, I feel better from that then a cold. Sometimes I wonder if God is up there laughing at me. I will just lay down on my chaise with my soft ivory blanket with the blue coral and rest. But I'm tired of resting. So tired of it in fact.

I am reading Unholy Ghost: Writers on Depression. Its stunning and personal, makes me feel less alone. To know someone else is tired of making breakfast every day. Someone else can't keep a gun in the house because they don't trust themselves. Someone else has developed precise checks and balances in their mind in order to stay on earth. One poem in the book that hits me hard:

When I was born, you waited
behind a pile of linen in the nursery,
and when we were alone, you lay down
on top of me, pressing
the bile of desolation into every pore,

And from that day on
everything under the sun and moon
made me sad-

My doctor and I have tracked (as well as we could) my depression to when it started, and it seems to have began around the time I was four or five. To look back at myself in a motherly way and see that sadness, that despair, breaks my heart. I wish I could go back and remind that little girl that she was not alone and to insist to her mother that she needs help. I wish I could go back and maybe stop some of this hell that I am mired in.

(mostly) clean house

Yesterday I had energy. It was an amazing amount of energy. I was able to go out by myself and run errands (something I haven't done in weeks). I came home and cleaned, dusted, did some laundry and even had the energy to make pasta for dinner. It was wonderful to say the least I hardly needed a nap in the afternoon but took a small rest anyway. Today I still feel a slight pulse of energy. What an interesting and exciting turn of events.

I don't know the exact reason why this energy has come about. It may be from the Lamictal or from the Zoloft which I have been on for about a week, or an increase in sheer will could be the culprit. Whatever the cause, I'm relieved to know that I may not be doomed to a lack-luster life.

Home sweet

I have a love/hate relationship with our house. I love it because of our blue-green and white living room, I love it for its location, for its snug vintage kitchen with the faded orange counters, I love the beams on the ceiling, I love its quiet street and the enormous tree in the front yard. I hate it for its unfinished walls, the holes in the floor, the brown weeds in the yard, the old cracked linoleum and this impending feeling that the roof over the garage is sinking. But its our little bungalow in the midst of an extremely ritzy neighborhood that I feel we don't necessarily fit into, our house definitely does not. That makes me sad and happy at the same time.

Ron and I got food poisoning from some pizza we had the night before last. We both have tummy aches and just feel miserable. Poor Ron had to go teach regardless. I finally want to go grocery shopping but don't know if I can because of the ache. My plans dashed again. There seems to always be something getting in the way of my goals. Oh well.

fern-ish

These are pictures I took from my sick bed. I'm tired of resting. I lay on the chaise with blankets and my most comforting pillow and sleep; sleep for hours and hours. I wake for a quick lunch and see part of a show and then back to sleep. I take at least two naps a day followed by a full nights sleep. I feel like a sick swaddled baby.

Its hard because part of my living in bed is due to my I-can't-even-describe-it lack of energy but its also due to depression. I don't see the point in doing anything; I don't have the desire to do anything; I don't have the energy to do anything. I used to love going out, doing crafts, cooking, going to the market for fresh flowers and vegetables. Now I can't seem to even get out of bed, to shower, to stand up.

Today I'm going to try to do something with Ron's help. Maybe go out, or tidy some of the mess in the house, or scrapbook. Its daunting to think of doing anything but I need to try hard, to put all my dwindling strength into it.

Why I need a nanny

I need a nanny. A nanny to wake me up, make me breakfast, clean the house, help me dress, brush my hair, and take care of the dogs. These things are nearly impossible for me to do right now. I imagine my nanny a large sweet kind woman in vintage garb (she has to somehow be transported from 1901), she is gentle and pleasant to talk to and gives me good advice.

Above are my two sick beds, our bed and the chaise in the living room. I hate these places, they remind me too much of being sick. I love my art room, but wish I had the energy and ability to spend time in it, tidy up and create.

Its so hard being this depressed and having no energy to distract myself with other things. Instead I live in mess and clutter, I can't even take care of myself. This makes things so much worse. Its hard to describe how debilitated I am right now, I'm good at hiding how much this bothers me, I'm good at pulling myself together when I have to and hiding how hard it is to shower, dress, get made up--how this takes all my energy.

I'm alone for a few hours this morning and it is hard and I'm lonesome. I'm glad I miss him so much when he is gone. He is utterly amazing; working and going to school and caring for me. I don't know how he does it.

but its over

Last night was hard. Everything felt lost. We couldn't sleep, Ron forgot to do his homework until 10:30, I kept crying and was moody. I'm sure the glass of wine, cherry bourbon and coke and mint julep didn't help. Its hard not to crave the momentary rush of alcohol.

This morning I feel weak, tired, sore from yard work. Here and not here. We are living, but I don't feel alive. I have to do things like feed the dogs, shower, dress and put on makeup. These things seem so utterly worthless to me. There is a huge disconnect between me and everyday life. I don't see the point in it. The point in waking up every single morning, of making breakfast, of doing the same mindless muddled tasks. I know this is all depression talk, but god it feels so real sometimes. So close and cunning. It breathes hotly down my neck with its stale breath.

Good things:

Ronald
Movies
Mrs. Dalloway
My leather journal
Amelia deciding she is allowed to sleep in the bed
Emails

Bad things:

Side effects
Dust bunnies
Messy kitchen
Depression
Laundry
A messy dank soul

yard work

Things I learned this morning:

a. I am not good at pruning
b. Some moths bite
c. Prickle bushes cut you
d. Dead weeds can make you sneeze

I actually had some energy this morning to help Ron with yard work. I pruned, plucked, prodded. Watered the few living plants we have. Swept and raked. We talked about landscaping and have some plans that we are pretty exited about. One being building a raised garden in the backyard. Our house is so in need of love and care and we are trying our best with the little time and money we have.

Now to the rest of the day and the slow sinking feeling when the endorphin high starts to wear off. At least its the weekend. At least I'm with someone I love.

pretty

I cried a lot last night. It was a good cry, a cleansing cry. We saw The Time Travelers Wife last night and on the way home I started crying because I don't know if we will be able to have children because I am so sick. I don't know if I will be able to handle raising children, if I will be able to be off medication during the pregnancy. This scares me as I want to have children so bad one day. We are just in a wait and see mode as to whether it can happen or not.

Then we came home and laid in bed and Ron kept saying "you're pretty, you're pretty." and I cried because I don't see that when I look in the mirror. Instead I see the weight and my dad's eyes looking back at me. Those unknowable eyes, and now they are mine to keep. We did some snuggling and fell asleep gently in each others arms. That was nice and good and filling.

This morning I feel tired and spent. Another day being me, just me...

shadow

I am a ghost of my previous self. Changed and ravaged by the demon, my demon, the lust filled blood sucking creature that makes his bed with me. I fight him, try to keep him away, but he stutters and barges his way in like a stealthy abuser. Oh depression, how easy and hard you are to describe.

I used to feel young, free and easy, awakened, creative, palpable, alive. Now I feel like the walking dead. Numb, used up, listless, shattered. I live, I beat I buy an orchid at the market. But really I am not there, I have escaped only to find myself in the dungeon.

Writing installment number 3:

----
You are rotting inside out like a crab, a seahorse. Soon all that will be left is skeleton, mollusk shell, a kidney. When you go you are taking your heart with you.
----

me

This is me and I'm doing rotten. Ron is staying home with me as much as he can outside of teaching classes. Next week is really busy for him so I at least have a few days with the best someone by my side to help me get through the days.

I met with my doctor yesterday and cried and sobbed about how horrible I'm doing. We talked about all our options and we came up with some ideas. First, we are trying a new anti-depressant. If that doesn't work we are thinking of taking me off all my medication and starting over. Its all a bit frightening really. And all I can think of is how much my head hurts, how sad I am, how lonely it feels to be trapped in this cave.

I have ten minute bits of energy. Where I can perhaps take a shower, perhaps do the dishes, make a small dinner, put the dogs outside. I can do about two energy requiring things per day. This is the least amount of energy I've ever had. I'm starting to lose my will to do anything.

"Andy the doctors prescribed me the pills, I know I'm not crazy, I've just lost my will. So why am I, why am I taking them still?" -Jacks Mannequin

Natural

Yesterday Ron and I spent a lot of time in the backyard. Here are some of my findings. Ferns, Bottle brush, shiny and furry leaves. I love the color and textures of them all, so tactile and tangible.

Today I'm meeting with my doctor. I want to find a way to describe how I'm feeling. I think no matter how hard I try to explain it, my answer will still be "wait". I don't blame him for saying it. I think we have to wait to see if this medicine will work, otherwise this whole trial would have been for nothing, but the process is so hard.

I'm keeping my chin up but I can't help but feel this seeking, sullen desperation. This creeping feeling that I can't move on, can't get past this boulder in my path. I hold on, I hold on, I hold on.

poppy seed

Writing installment number two

----
At once knowing this is what you have, this is who you are. This is your lot so smile. I have tattoos, I have all these girly things that make me appear normal. I wear earrings, shoes, a wedding ring. But really, what do I have? An empty heartless soul.

All the little sundries that fill up a world, a life, a lack thereof.
----

weary

I'm very tired this weekend. Its frustrating dealing with a ton of side effects while the medicine seems to not be helping me feel any better. I have a never ending headache. I'm sick of waiting and waiting for medicine to work. I've been waiting for almost three months to see if this Lamictal will work and it doesn't seem to be doing anything. I am on 200 milligrams and we can go up to 400, but we have to raise it in 50 milligram increments every two weeks. So I can possibly be waiting about two more months to see if this medicine is right for me. Its beyond frustrating when I am depressed and feeling miserable physically, mentally and emotionally. I am at an utter loss for words trying to describe it. It feels like I am in a noose and it is tightening.

I'm trying to think of the positive, to keep my mind off how bad it is, to stay distracted with other things, but its almost impossible to really forget and get lost in something else while I am feeling like shit. I feel like I could cry for weeks and still not express how miserable I am right now. I know I need to take things one day, one moment at a time and keep my chin up, but God is this harder than I ever imagined it could be. I never knew you could go through so much pain without dying. Sometimes I feel like God's little experiment.

Wish me luck and pray for me please.

past due

Last night I plowed through my writings and chose a few to share. Here is my first installment:

----
This is a different sort of tired needing a different sort of sleep. A sleep I cannot find yet. I have a heart that won't dance, a preposterous self-loathing. A miracle workers hands which nothing comes out of. Nothing is formed, no self-admiration, nothing made with these hands. Types on lettered keys, X and O from lip to cheek, done tongue in cheek. My chewed up tongue from animal instinct.
----

Yesterday I took a shower before noon. I went to the grocery. I cleaned out some of our pantry. I took a nap. I cried at night about my lack of energy. I did a load of laundry out of necessity. My most successful day in weeks. Today I will do some more laundry, change the bed sheets, finish organizing the pantry.

Wish me better, wish me will, wish me luck.

tiny

Here is my gorgeous little vintage ring. Its tiny and dainty and I love it. It was really hard to get a good picture of it as it is so small so this was the best I could do.

Yesterday was another down one. I wasn't able to do anything but nap and finally take a shower at 4:30 so we could go to dinner with Paul and Laura for Paul's birthday. I don't know how I had the energy to do that, I feel dead this morning.

I have to go to the market today but don't know if I can. I am so stuck right now and so unbelievably exhausted, its hard to describe. I'm absolutely sapped. My thyroid medication is supposed to give me energy but that hasn't kicked in yet. Instead I only have the side effects like nausea and a splitting headache.

This weekend Laura and Paul are coming over to help us with the house. Laura will help me clean. I have such a hard time when they come over, I get a lot of anxiety because I'm afraid they will judge us. Our house is such a wreck and I need so much help but I wish I didn't. I wish I could keep things clean, but I just can't. It isn't that I don't want to, its that I'm physically unable to. I need to just be brave and accept the help but my 1950s housewife sensibilities sure go through the ringer at times like this.

Things I want to do around the house when I have energy:

Vacuum
Mop
Organize bills
Dust
Clean out and organize pantry
Organize and clean my craft room
Clean the bathrooms
Buy new plants for the front yard and be a gardener
Laundry

secrets

Here is my very secret wonderful scrapbook. It isn't much of a secret anymore, but I just had to share something I am really proud of. I love the cover, and the words and how the book feels. It is simple and white yet substantial and soft to hold and touch.

I'm feeling so-so today. Here and muddled and here. I notice I always write things in threes. I'm hoping I can take a shower before noon but am not quite sure. My body and mind don't seem to allow it. I do know I have to shower and perfume and makeup as we are going to dinner with Ron's parents and I need to go to the market. I hope I have the energy for it.

My gorgeous little vintage wedding ring should come in the mail today. I can't wait to see it, touch it, try it on.

I like having this secret close space to write. I wonder who reads it and if it means anything to them. I know it means a lot to me.

Night falls softly

I'm back in the saddle after two days off. My old blog had to be set aside as there were too many people I knew reading it. Now I have only a select few reading (so you should feel rather special). It feels much better just to allow my real thoughts to go to a handful of people but mostly to let them float out to the gods of cyberspace. I'm not going to start new and explain my whole story, I'm just going to start from where I left off.

Today the doctor raised my Lamictal to 200 mg. He said Lamictal acts like a rubber band. It pulls you up from the bottom (depression) but keeps you from swinging up to the top (mania). I'm in it though; in the depression. Lulling and wading in the muddy pit of it looking for something to hold onto, something to pull me out. There is nothing yet.

I have a very scarce amount of energy. Just enough to wake up, get out of bed, maybe shower and take care of the dogs. Everything else feels like extra credit. Its really exciting when I can do something other than the basics like make brownies, or go out.

This afternoon I worked on my scrapbook. I will post pictures of it tomorrow. I love it because I am just saying and pasting what I want, what I like. Sometimes its hard to do that. But I did it today and am happy.