The other night I got down on the floor and played with Vivi. She laughed, no one cried and I actually enjoyed myself.
Yesterday I went to the gym and did my first full circuit since the sads really knocked me down. Up until yesterday the most I could convince myself to do was walk on the treadmill, but walking on a treadmill is supposedly better than lying in bed.
I’ve started cooking a bit more, I’m still nowhere close to where I used to be — but again — it’s a start.
I’ve been taking my big camera out with me, using it, and enjoying it. Vivi is at the prime age of “NO YOU MAY NOT TAKE MY PICTURE HERE IS THE BACK OF MY HEAD” while Addie looks too grown up. Her back to school shoes are as big as my feet.
I’ve made a new friend, which is huge considering the overhanging cloud of depression and the awful reality that your best friend is now six hours ahead of you in a foreign country and you won’t be seeing her for a very long time.
Another big huge thing is that I didn’t take a nap this week. I don’t necessarily nap because I’m tired, I nap because sometimes my reality just hurts too much and sleeping doesn’t hurt. Things haven’t hurt quite as bad this week so I’ve stayed awake. (I am still having to take a sleeping pill each night, I’ve weaned down to a quarter pill and hope sleep related things will be back to normal by the end of August, that’s the goal anyway.)
If I may compare what I’m going through to a broken leg, I am still in a cast. But I’m not taking pain pills anymore, the cast comes off next week and long term therapy begins.
There will still be days when it hurts, days when I do too much and wear myself out.
The worst part of this is that I’m back listening for the other shoe.
It seems the medication I was on for so long simply stopped working. After doing a bit of research, it is fairly common problem and I’m lucky I got as much time out of mine as I did. Now I’m on to a new one, with a very real fear that I will go through this again in 5 years time (assuming this new one can successfully hold me up through the coming months.)
I know I’m not out of the woods. I still have the occasional dark and terrible thought—but that there are glimpses of what life can be like without depression and after being mired down for so long they give me hope.
To anyone who is new to this fight, I’ve never fought this hard before. After years and years of dealing with this I have learned what I need, I have Cody who knows exactly what to do and what to say even when I don’t want to hear it. The fact that I was angry this time helped — I don’t want to suffer. I don’t want to be the victim. But being angry and fighting back doesn’t mean I can skip the next few weeks and months of healing. It just means I won’t let myself spend as much time checked out from life.
I know when to say no.
I know when to say help.
I know I can’t do this alone.
I also know I need to make it back to the ocean really soon.