|Waking up and seeing the sunshine...and it feels like the first day of your life, all over again.|
Monday, July 18, 2016
Slow Dancing Trees
About two weeks ago was a totally different story. I had been struggling for awhile, going through a major depressive episode. Completely embarrassing. Totally horrifying. Really fucking hard.
I found myself crying everyday for the simple reason of me just not being "normal" and happy.
And then I found myself on the bathroom floor sobbing and freaking out over chicken nuggets.
Yes. Chicken nuggets. I even recorded videos of me during this moment, in an attempt to show to M how bad it really was. I never showed him. But told him that, by the end of the week, I'm going to the hospital.
See, I got set off by me cooking myself some organic chicken noodle soup, and frozen chicken nuggets for David.
It destroyed me. I lost it. In the bathroom. With David watching.
I have developed some sort of food phobia since having David, and it really sucks. Really.
And I know I can't do much about it except to tell myself that, "It's fine! It's food! Food is food, he's fine. He's okay."
And then I move on. Shivers.
From there, I felt myself starting to fall into a psychotic episode. And on top of that, I got a horrid flu.
I was severely dehydrated. And I had a breakdown in our car, parked in front of our house.
Guess who was home and saw the whole thing go down?
I hated myself for letting me fall apart like that and not being able to get myself together for her.
It will haunt me forever that she finally got to witness one of my episodes.
For the most part, the kids just see me when I'm depressed, or when I'm "up." But they never see me alone when I'm depressed. Or when I'm "up." Because what she witnessed is what I really do alone in my depressive states. And no one really sees me when I'm alone in my "up" episodes. I refuse.
It was humiliating. Tiring. And I really just wanted to check myself in to the hospital.
Well, I tried. But since I had no thoughts of suicide or harming myself or anyone, they wouldn't keep me. And I thought to myself, isn't the feeling of not being able to take care of myself enough?
When I wake up and wish that I would just fall into a coma because I'm tired of being in this deep, dark, tiny hole? Isn't that means enough?
That week was "Hospital Week."
I was in the hospital after that for three days in a row due to severe dehydration from this terrible flu I caught.
Nausea pills, hydrocodone for the pain, and lots and lots of fluids.
David caught my flu. He was waking up puking and screaming and crying and he was getting his back teeth in all at the same time. M was working a bunch of major projects at work. A broke his wrist. And by broke, I mean, dislocated, broke, and needed surgery for it.
I finally was able to talk to my doctor and am trying out the medication, Lamictal, since I have heard such great things about it.
It has been almost two weeks on my first dosage of 25mg. Then I move up to 50mg, and on until I find the right fit for me.
My mom is still not talking to me. Still. Still. Still.
And I've thought about just calling her, but I don't know what to say. I have said all that I needed to say. And no, not on here...
I just don't know what to do. So I am bothered.
But, I think this Lamictal is starting to flow through my system and I pray to god that this is the one medication I'll need.
And that Steven's Johnson Syndrome won't be the death that I receive. I made the mistake of looking up Google Images of SSJ, and I will never need to see that again, thank you very much.
I'd be more detailed about everything that's gone on, but honestly, it's just too fucking much.
Yesterday, I used my dad's house to spend time with David in, and it was wonderful. I absolutely loved it. I made some breakfast, played with my baby boy, shared banana bread, listened to music, and put on a movie. The sun was shining. I was in my favorite neighborhood! The trees were swaying side to side like they were slow dancing for me and David. It really was amazing, simple as it was.
On top of that, K actually talked to me. Even sat beside me. It was really nice...
I love when I don't feel like I'm walking on eggshells around her. It's a huge weight off my shoulders.
Those moments with her don't come often but I do savor them. Very much. And hope to god she remembers these moments with me more than any other moment she's had with me.
I have issues. She knows that. But I hope she doesn't grow up thinking that's all I am: One Big Issue.
Anyway, I know I haven't written in a long time. I haven't felt like it. Simply.
I've spend most the past month, crying over stupid shit, and making a fool of myself.
But....also pulling myself together. So that's gotta count for something, right?
I hope you all have a beautiful day!