Today was a much better day. I went into the school I will be working at this year to find out that the new theatre program I was starting has almost doubled from the count last week! I also got to cook, bake and spend time with Eli while Noah was at rehearsal. There was not one moment of panic, no extra anxiety, nothing. I can imagine this is what most people call normal.
I also got to bake and cook and that ALWAYS makes me happy! I LOVE food. And I love feeding people. Not like directly, but I love when I cook or bake something that people enjoy. I love making people happy. I know my happiness should not be contingent on others but there are times I cannot help it. I love the fall because that is when I get to really start baking. Pumpkin bread and Humming Bird bread/cake are my personal favorites. Plus it gets to be big hardy meal weather. Lasagna, turkey chili, chicken pie, mashed potatoes with pretty much anything on top, it is all amazing. I love it all. I love trying things and seeing what I can change to make it “my recipe”.
I would love to say I am a foodie who weighs 130 lbs. but I am not. Some people are lucky that way, I am not. You can tell, I love food. My line is always “This body may look like it comes naturally, but it is hard work to look like this!” I have a feeling I would be saying that regardless of how much I weighed. Bury the hurt with a joke. But I honestly do not feel bad for loving GOOD food. Now shitty food, that has sadness written all over it. But good, homemade love in food form makes me happy. I feel no sadness as I eat eggs benedict or a piece of banana bread. I think it is because sadness lurks so many other places that I love food so much. I think of food and I think of the joy that it brings when I am able to share it with others.
Tonight I made over 70 cupcakes to take to the cast of the show I am directing. Tomorrow is the first day I will have met with them since auditions. I am excited to see them all together and I am excited that I get to share some of my happiness with them.
I would love to say that today was a better day, but it wasn’t.
I had to move from my safe space to go to the oncologist this morning. I DON’T do mornings so this was super hard. The appointment was an hour away so I had to be up earlier than I have been in quite a while. The appointment was not bad, as a matter of fact the doctor told me that I get to start coming every other week as apposed to my once a week that I have been doing for over a year now. It will be a nice change and it will help save on gas as well.
We got back from the appointment a little after noon and were doing some stuff around the house when our cleaners arrived way earlier than we thought. My mother has hired the nicest people to come do some basic cleaning around the house. Basically, the stuff Noah and I would never do. They are super nice and we REALLY REALLY like them, but in our tiny house with them trying to get things done, we always feel in the way. We thought they were coming at 1:30 which would have been perfect because Noah and Eli could drive me to my Therapy appointment at 2:00 and then pick me up and we could run some errands until we would no longer be in the way. So you can imagine our surprise when they came at 12:30. Noah was all of a sudden rushing out the door to go, God knows where, my mom wanted me to help her for a min, all the while I feel so in the way I am on the verge of an anxiety attack. There was no winning. So I just jumped in the car with Noah and Eli and went to lunch before my appointment.
They dropped me off and I walked up to the counter to check in. The lady looked at me very confused and said “I don’t have you down to see her again until the 19th.” What the fuck! This is twice now I have screwed up my therapy times. And right now, I needed some therapy. My heart started racing as she asked me if I wanted a card. I took one timidly and looked at the date and time and noticed that it was the EXACT SAME TIME as my pain doctor appointment next week! I was too embarrassed to say anything. I mean, who is stupid enough to schedule 2 very important doctors appointments on the same day at the same time. The answer is me.
I called Noah to have him come pick me up and tried not to pick my face apart as I waited for him. When I got in the car I wanted to cry. We still had some errands to run so I tried to pull myself together. As we were driving, I got the message that I had somehow messed up the schedule for work. This would seem like a hard thing to do when you are pretty much in charge of scheduling, but never the less, I was being called out for not doing my job right. I felt like a scolded school girl. I responded, I felt, very directly and felt like I had handled myself, despite my emotions, very responsibly.
There was no reply.
Not from the person who called me out, not from my stage manager, it was like all I could hear were my words echoing and I do not like the sound of my own voice.
Then I found myself stuck, looking for affirmation that what I had done was not wrong and that my choice words, which were very polite but direct, were not over stepping boundaries. The words finally came in, but I hated myself for needing other people to confirm what I knew to be right.
Once I got home I took 2 pills and was out so fast I could not even keep my head up to answer the text that were pouring in. Between being up so early, messing up my appointment, messing up my work, and the depression that was still looming from yesterday, I was relieved that my responsibilities were mostly done for the day. I took a nap which felt like 30 min and I soon learned was almost 3 hours. I felt, once again, like I had messed up. This time it was more important than anything, I had missed time with Eli.
When I have episodes of depression, like the past 48 hours, I start to wonder if Eli even knows that I am his mom. I feel like this figure that he sees every now and then and feeds him sometimes, and sometimes puts him to bed, and sometimes changes him, but he gets no more excited to see me walk through the door than he would the cleaners. Sure, he smiles, but then he goes right back to Noah and what ever it was he was doing. I try to tell myself that this is okay. That soon Eli will grow up enough that we can explain, I am mom. Then we can get to the stage of mom is not feeling good and we should snuggle her in bed. And then he will soon learn to appreciate the days that mom is not sick and can go outside to be with him. He will learn that it is not because mom does not want to, it is because she can’t. And maybe this will never happen. I just have to keep my hopes high on this one.
Last night I went out with Noah and the cast the show he is currently in to a local restaurant. Well, what started out as “Hey babe, want to go to Brixx?”, quickly became, “EVERYONE is going to Brixx!” My anxiety went from 0 to 60 in about 5 seconds flat. This was one of those moments where I realized I should never leave the house without Xanax! I tried so hard to pull it together. I kept taking deep breaths and remember that these were people I knew too and although I was not a member of the cast, it was going to be okay. I did not want to take this away from him. I did not want to take away his enjoyment all because I was so broken.
So I bit the bullet and went. Just out of courtesy to him, I let him know my feelings just in case I went to the bathroom and did not come out until after dinner, or just attempted a drop and roll out of the car as we were pulling into the parking lot. Being the man he is, he offered to go home, but I had already resolved myself to going so there was no backing down now. When we arrived, seating became and issue because our party was so large. They pushed 5 tables together but one of them was backed all the way up against the booth. I was sitting at that end. After everyone was sitting I looked down the row of people and noticed that because of the way the chairs were against the wall, I was trapped in my seat. At this point I turned to liquid courage.
I made it though the night “unharmed” but was still a little shaken up when we got home. I took some medication and settled down in bed for the night. The medication kicked in and I was able to fall asleep.
But it didn’t last long.
Do you ever have dreams that are so real that you when you wake up, you still have the emotion ingrained in your body and are unable to shake it? Or worse, the dream is not just a dream but it is a play on a memory. Noah woke me up from a memory so painful I was crying in my sleep. When he woke me I could barely catch my breath. My heart was racing and tears were streaming down my face. I hurt. Not physically but mentally. It’s still to real to talk about. I could not even tell him. I took some medication and tried to shake it off but it still kept me awake for hours.
All of this lead up to today. I had a massage scheduled for 10 this morning. I realize for normal people that is no big deal, but for me, it is hard to achieve sometimes. I went, reluctantly, because I knew once I got there it would feel pleasant. And it did, but all I could think about was getting back to my safe space.
Once I got back I did not leave. All day. I know this is not a good thing, it is just a fact.
My safe space is my bed. Not even really my room because it stresses me out too. There is no lock on it and there is no way to really even shut it. Not that I ever want to lock or shut anyone out, it would just be nice to have the option. Right now, if you knock, the door flies open and the world is there for me to see and realize how little I am doing. I don’t really like the bed itself. The mattress is older than me and Noah’s marriage and it pops and sounds like it is going to break every time you sit on it.
Right now, it is the only place I feel like I can call “my space”. I feel like I let people into it.(Noah is going to resent that statement but it is true.) I get annoyed when people just get in without asking. I want my small piece of peace. This sounds so selfish, and maybe it’s an “only child” thing. But I think it is more of an “anxiety that the world is not fit for me sometimes and I am not fit for it” thing. I cannot help but want what makes me well. Wouldn’t you want medicine if you knew it could make you better?
I was standing in line at Starbucks the other day and I was on the phone with Noah. The line was long but the store was small so people were cutting through the line to get to the exit, no big deal. As I approached the counter to order my Chai Latte with 3 shots of espresso (yeah 3, don’t judge me) I ended my call with Noah. “I love you” I said as I hung up. Then, like an echo, a guy crossing through the line behind me says “I love you, too” and then darts out the door.
I am still not sure what to make of this situation.
I have this problem.
On days that I get my treatments I also get a B12 shot. This is always a nice boost of energy to counteract the lethargic feeling I have from the premeds they give me for my treatment. I always joke that when they give me my shot I kinda feel like the Hulk for a second but only in one arm. The issue that I tend to run into, My body is exhausted from the treatment and any other events of the day, however my mind is not. And that’s why it is 3 AM and I am here.
Stuck with so many thoughts running through my brain. But nothing I have the energy to act on. This is good for the food cravings I have because I am to out of it to get out of bed to get it. I can tell you this though, if I could get out of bed to make it happen, there would be some great food with all the great recipes in my head. They all sound delicious. It is kind of like having the Food Network on in my brain.
This is when I want to be productive. And as weird as it sounds, I cannot stay focused on one thing long enough to actually accomplish anything. I colored, I read, I watched the last episode of Sherlock (again!), I have debated starting my “story”, but I don’t even know where to start. I asked the other day for things to right about and received amazing answers. I want to find a way to mush them all together and make it silly, funny and happy, but every time I start, I forget something and I don’t want that. I want to include it all. But it has sat in a draft folder for a week now and still…nothing.
I started this blog for many reasons. I wanted to be a writer. I feel like I have a story to tell and I want to tell it. However, I know I am not a great writer. Then someone told me that a good writer MAKE themselves write. Sometimes for hours each day. I have never spent HOURS on my post, but I have taken care of what I post. I make sure that, despite grammatical errors, and the constant need for spell check, that I have not lost my voice in my writing. For those who know me, I want you to hear me speaking as you read. For those who don’t, I want you to see the colorful and honest way I speak.
I have NEVER thought of my self as a writer. But as I look at the 247 (now 248) post, I am starting to think that maybe I am. I am not saying I am good at it. I am just saying I am. There was a line in one of the shows that I directed that always cracked me up and reminded me of my struggles with writing. “We are all writers. He is a writer who has never been published and I am a writer who has not written anything.” I am at least happy to say that I fall into the category of writers who have never been published. And who knows. Maybe on number 365 I will have the guts to actually put it all together and try to publish it.
Yeah, probably not! Okay, yeah. The Xanax is kicking in. I have officially out stayed my welcome on this post. I have lost my mind and hopefully I will find it somewhere in a deep sleep because it is NOT in this post!
Today was a day of accomplishments! I feel like despite it being a treatment day, my world didn’t stop. This may seem minimal to some people who never HAVE to stop. They choose to take breaks or decide that they should take sometime because they know what is best for them.
My body just stops.
I don’t get to make the call sometimes. And that is the hardest thing for me, and everyone around me to understand. To outsiders, I appear flaky. To those in the know, they only get frustrated because they know what I CAN do and don’t quite understand that on days that I can’t, it is not from lack of want. To me, it is annoying, frustrating and painful. Painful to see the looks on peoples faces when they know I have had “a day”. Painful to have to take a day because I don’t want to. Painful in the most physical way possible.
But that was not today. Today I took the bull by the horns! I may sleep all day tomorrow but, I think any normal person who did everything I did today would feel the same way! That right there is a great feeling
Tonight Noah had a “Man Date” with some of his friends. It’s hard to say it was a man date because one of the group was a teen, so it was sort of like 3 men and a baby. They went to “IT” at like 10:30. Part of me wishes I could have been there. Not because I wanted to crash the date, but more so I could watch all 4 men jump, scream, and cover their eyes. It is not just because they are men that I find this funny, I find it funny watching ANYONE react to a scary movie!
I knew seeing the movie would put Noah home late and I had some work to do that managed to keep me busy longer than expected. I happened to be finishing up when I saw Noah pull into the driveway. This was when the plan was hatched.
Knowing I had only a minuet I sprang to the front door. Our door has a refracted glass center but the light was not on in the house so I knew he couldn’t see me. I flicked the outside light switch a little just to make it look like maybe I was going to turn it off and then remembered to turn it on. But then I started flicking it faster and then I would stop with it off. I did it again this time leaving it off. The I turned it on and off one more good time. I finally see Noah approaching the house, walking as far away from the light as possible and sliding in the door as if he was not sure if the “calls” were coming from inside the house or outside.
I was so pleased with myself that I could not hold it in long enough for him to make it in the door! I fell out laughing! It was perfect! “That was mean!” he said with a face that I interpreted as “Holy shit I am terrified but that was brilliant and I am proud of your pranking abilities.”
It is moments like this I know our marriage was built to last.
Today was my first day in therapy.
After all the anxiety that had lead up to the last appointment, the panic was even greater today. It took two Xanax and Starbucks just to get me into the building. Once I was in, the waiting room was full of people. Everyone just tries to avoid eye contact because you try not to assume what someone is there for and you try not to judge. Secretly, I feel like I have a big sign on me that says “I’M CRAZY! I HAVE ANXIETY AND DEPRESSION AND I DON’T KNOW WHY!” But I try to remind myself that mental illness has no “look”. I always hate it when people say “You don’t look sick.” so it is not fair for me to judge these people who are probably not judging me. Nevertheless, the anxiety still lingers as I try to imagine what this is going to be like.
I was not there 2 minutes when I heard her call my name. It took me a second to gather my things as I took a deep breath and walked towards her office. She was very nice, and commented on my Starbucks noting that she was a fan as well. She was very easy going which was good for me. It never felt like a one sided conversation. She told me about her life as well. That she battled Depression as well and was in Therapy herself. Somehow, that was comforting. It made her more real to me. Not that she was not real, just more like a normal person who was not there to judge me or put blame on me. I felt I could trust her. And I can. YAY, doctor/patient privacy. Not that it matters, she does not know me or my family or anyone I talk about, so there is no she could divulge information to people she doesn’t even know.
There were moments in our session where she would look at me, eyes huge and ask “Are you serious?” To which my answer was always yes. We tried to get through the analyses, but I had so much to say to the questions she asked, it was hard to be brief. At one point she looked at me and said “That’s messed up!”
“Yep, I’m messed up.”
“No no. Not you. Just everything you have been through. You are incredibly ‘normal’ all things considered.”
She asked if she could see me sooner that 2 weeks later. It was mainly because she would like to finish the analyses and try to talk to me a little more about ways to deal with the life I have been handed.
All in all, I say it went well. I was slightly impressed that I managed to shock a professional therapist. It kind of made me a little proud and like maybe, me being broken was okay. Like, once again, it’s not my fault that I am sick. There is a reason. It is part nature and part nurture and either way, it was not something I was doing wrong. She justified me and every aspect of my mental health.
I feel like I am off to a good start.
I had a weird moment recently while watching Sesame Street with Eli and the fam. I was in the kitchen, just listening to the show then they introduced a new character. He was going to be a teacher on Sesame Street. Then he announced his name. “I am Fuck Off. And now that I have opened my school I will be Professor Fuck Off.” I poked my head out of the kitchen and looked at Noah who seemed to have NO issue what so ever with this new character. “Did you hear his name?” He looked at me casual as all get out and said yes he had heard the name. “He’s opening a school for Fucks.”
“I don’t care if he is opening a school for slashing tires on Sesame Street. Professor Fuck Off is not an appropriate name for ANY character on Sesame Street.” He agreed. “So what is this guys name again?” thinking surely I missed something. “He is Professor Fuck Off.”
“WHAT AM I MISSING?!? Finally I came around to actually see the screen. Turns out this guy was legit. He was going to open a school for chickens, which is why his name is Professor Buck Awe and he was opening a school for clucks.
Plosives are very important for young children. Make sure and hit them hard or you will have a toddler want to go to the School for Fucks.
I have lost feeling in my thumb and in my pointer finger. I am sure it has a more technical name than that, I just am not that up on anatomy. I can say pointer phalanges but that still does not sound very medical. Anyway, the doctor thinks that it is probably carpal tunnel so now I have to wear this brace. It is SUPER annoying when trying to do anything but sit still. However, it does make me look like a bad ass. But it’s hard to sound like a bad ass with a diagnosis like carpal tunnel. So I spent the better part of last night thinking up awesome things I could say when asked “What happened?” in regards to by bad ass brace.
– When I was at the beach I all of a sudden felt a bite at my foot. I looked down and saw a shark. I remembered that if you punch a shark really hard it will just swim away because it really does not want to eat you, it just thinks you are a turtle, but turtles don’t punch you in the nose. I punched it as hard as I could. I punched it so hard that I hurt my hand. That’s why I am wearing the brace.
– Someone tried to mug me on my way to my car the other night. I managed to get my self in the car and get the car started. He wouldn’t let go of my hand so I was stuck with the door open, but I punched the gas as hard as I could. He let go but the door closed on my wrist as I was trying to pull it into the car. That’s why I am wearing the brace.
– I was walking in the shopping center and all these cars kept running the stop sign. I was super worried all of the pedestrians, like myself, might get hit. As I approached the stop sign where I should cross a car came speeding up. You know how when you are in the car with someone and you come to a screeching halt and you put your arm out to stop them from going into the dash board. well I kind of did the opposite. As the car was heading towards the stop sign I stuck my arm out and was like “Not today mother fucker!” and the car screeched to a stop but not before hitting my hand and doing some minor damage. That’s why I am wearing the brace.
Yes, I know, none of these would be possible even if I was a bad ass.