In the belly of the beast
Usually, in October, my anxiety begins to ramp up. It usually catches me unaware. October was when the shit hit the fan for my family. Things changed. Forever.
In October 2005 my anxiety, in general, spirled out of control and I found myself in a six month battle that left me weak, mentally, and feeble. Incapable.
This year, I was ready for October. I’d been off my anti-anxiety and anti-depression medications for a while, but I was willing to go back on if I needed them. Thankfully, I didn’t. I skated through October. Mostly. By the end of the month, I’d begun to be unsettled. Skittish. Angry.
I thought that, maybe, once I exited October that I’d feel okay. I decided to wait it out. When October exited, I felt rattled,but okay, but as people with depression know, the darkness had already begun to seep around the corners.
Depression has been hard for me to admit. It’s been far easier for me to admit that I am prone to anxiety that will cripple me and leave me afraid to leave the house which seems a LOT more abnormal, but I can’t admit to depression.
Two weeks ago, I cried on Big Daddy’s shoulder (he assures me they’re big and can handle the job). I love my life. From the top to the bottom I LOVE it. I love BIg Daddy. I love our girls, our home, my family, our pets. I love it so much.
“Why can’t I just be happy?”, I sputtered out through tears and some snot. “I have everything I want. Why can’t I be happy?”.
I’d never tell you that you should be happy with your life and use that to ward away depression. I know better than that, but me? Well, I’m a boot strap girl. An overachieving oldest child. Everything in the world can be fixed and made right if only I put forth more personal effort. I know that’s not really true, but it’s always how I’ve felt. And I hate that I can’t finesse my way through episodes of depression.
And that, my friends, is where I’m at right now. Pulling myself along as best I can. Slugging it out with depression. Planning on winning. Not blogging because the effort is just too much. I’m feeling better, slightly, and am at least to the “fake it ’til I feel it” point and plan on having a great Christmas.
You’ll be seeing more of me.