Tag Archives: depression

I Don’t Know Where To Start

I don’t know where to start…I had a really hard time writing this blog this week.

Typically something happens , I share it and away we go.

Except some things are so heavy, they are things I struggle even to share with the people closest to me.

But sometimes a share is something someone else needs.  To know they are not alone.

So here it goes…

I have been struggling. I am a happy person about 80% of the time. 90% on a good week. I fight hard for it. I wasn’t always. A happy person. Another blog maybe.

However, over the last few weeks. The stress of work, my personal life, a health scare. I have been holding it together with duct tape and bubble gum.

I have done a good job of putting on a brave face but when I’m alone I’m at my worst. I’m quick to cry anyway- see my last blog. But this is different. Stopping is hard. Starting is way too easy.

While I don’t have the  Webster Dictionary definition of depression. I do have these moments. If I’m being honest, I’m embarrassed that I do. What in my life is so bad? Others have it worse. I should be able to handle it. At least that is the tape that plays in my head.

My therapist would not to be pleased, that even after a few years together that tape still plays in my head.

Depression.

Sadness

Anxiety

Those are words that while they are spoken more than they used to be. Still bring with them a certain amount of side eye.

“You don’t look depressed.”

“What do you have to worry about?”

The reality is we all are fighting.

Some of us just hide our battles.

I finally fessed up to mine when one of my nearest and dearest sent me a picture of the newest member of their family.

He is of the four legged variety and I’m excited to meet him.

My N&D asked me how I was.

I said I felt like a lightning bug in a jar.

She replied with “a damn beautiful lighting bug…”

Cue the waterworks

Even saying that was hard.

Telling one of my best friends I was hurting was hard.

Sharing with you all is scary.

Here’s the thing…even as someone who has a hard time believing it.

There is no shame in the struggle.

It is ok to need to ask for help.

It’s beyond alright to have a good cry in your car.

Please know I’m not making light of this but I am definitely trying to lighten the mood.

For me, for you.

I shared this, so you know Mommas we all have our moments.

Those moments don’t define you. Those moments don’t make you any less fantastic.

Those moments make you – you.

<3 Caprise

Motherhood & Anxiety

I  was sitting in my first counseling session with my anxiety at full peak. To be honest, I should have been sitting in this chair months ago.  A pen could have dropped and I would have cried because I was, simply put, at my breaking point. My son was noticing how upset I seemed all the time, how something simple I would once laugh off gripped me at my core, and how our home was not as happy as it was before. The constant guilt of that would eat me alive.

I sobbed at that first appointment, the full hour appointment tears ran down my face. I cried about how I felt I had failed my son, how lonely this stage of life was, and how overwhelming life is when you are a single parent. It was as though once I opened those flood gates, which I’ve worked so hard to keep closed, I could no longer close them. They were stuck open, both in therapy and once I left. This was almost too much to bear, I thought. I cannot go back; this did not help me at all.

As I walked out of the office, I refused to make another appointment. I used the excuse, I’ll call when I have my calendar in front of me. However, as I was walking to my car, I noticed I mentally felt lighter. Almost as though I could take a deep breath and fully let it out without tensing up. My jaw was no longer clenched. A coping mechanism I often would resort to, to help hide my anxiety.

I took a hard look at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red and swollen, my makeup looked like a hot mess but I was smiling, I was relieved of my burdens. See after three more appointments, I’ve learned that a large portion my anxiety is because I have placed those unrealistic expectations on myself. Yes, now society has a standard, or pro-quo, but who the hell cares, right?

I was the root cause of my anxiety because I felt compelled to hold it in, conform to the standards of a husband and wife household, along with not ask for help because I didn’t want to fit the mold of the often misleading single mother label. Instead of taking care of myself and finding my triggers for my anxiety, I would hide, lash out, or cry. I would often times forget to breathe, I would find myself tense all the time, and the cycle would continue, day in and day out.

Today, I fully recognize myself in the mirror and it is all because I took one of the hardest steps of my life, reaching out for help.

 

-Heather

One Year Later

What’s the most important thing you’ve done this year? For me…it’s that I survived. One year ago today I sat in the garage, put the keys in my ignition, turned it on, and sat there screaming in sheer pain. Calling out for her, but she never came. I sat and pounded the steering wheel, grasping at my chest because it hurt so bad. The physical pain…it was just too much for me to take, and I wanted it to go away. This was my only answer. But as I sat there, uncontrollably crying, something made me turn off the ignition and open the garage door. It wasn’t that I wanted to live, but whatever it was, it was stronger than me or the pain.

For me that night…I was desperately trying to end the pain and conquer my problems. I could not bare to live my life without her. It was simply unadulterated desperation.

Depression. It’s living in a body that fights to survive, with a mind that wants to die. The suicide attempt(s) have become a trauma that I have had to learn to deal with. Some days it’s a battle, some days it’s ok. I suppose there should be no shame in fighting the war, because at least I’m here to fight it. I won’t say there haven’t been days when I haven’t revisited the thought again, but then I remember I promised myself never to allow someone to have that much power over me again. And at the end of the day I need to remember to celebrate the courageous person that stares back at me in the mirror and all that she has overcome. Because in the end…long story short…she survived!

Keep surviving!

Virtual Hugs,

BLag

The Bravest Thing I Ever Did-Cont;nuing

A few days ago someone said something to me that has been stirring inside me ever since.  Not a good stir.  And not a good topic.  Not something I would never talk about publicly, and never in a million years finding myself writing a blog about.  But in hopes of shedding some light on a much misunderstood topic, a very relevant one in today’s society, and one that is now a part of my story.  Suicide.  Relax.  Obviously I am here typing this story so it didn’t happen.  But if I were recording a tape from 13 Reasons Why this would be one of them.

Recently my world has literally fallen apart.  My wife, the love of my life, my everything, my best friend…left me.  My family torn apart.  I lost my job.  Had been out of work since February desperately looking for anything without any luck at all.  My daughter and I have been living on next to nothing trying to make ends meet the best we can.  Sounds like a country song right?  If only I could play it backwards and get it all back!  I have been deeply depressed.  And that is putting it lightly.  I stayed in bed for days on end.  Not eating.  Not sleeping.  Just crying.  Throwing up.  I would get up only to make sure my daughter had food or to take her where she needed to be.  I was endlessly applying for jobs.  I would put on my makeup, cry it off on the way there.  Fix myself in the car before going in.  Cry on the way back home.  Crawl back into bed.  And do it all over again the next time.  This went on for weeks.  Months.  The panic attacks are still insane.  I even have them in my sleep.  I wake up gasping for air, thinking I am dying because I cannot breathe.  Clinching at my chest, the tears rolling down my cheeks, trying to calm myself down as my heart is beating so hard I can feel it in my throat.  Wishing the dog could dial 911 so someone could come help me.  The mental and physical pain from a broken heart is real.  And it is unbearable. I write all this not to seek attention.  But to paint the picture of where this blog is going.

The way people deal with pain is different.  And to each their own.  On the night of June 5th, as I sat alone in my home, hysterical crying, I felt I was to the point where I needed the pain to stop.  I couldn’t take the physical pain another minute.  I was not the strong person everyone thought I was.  I was not the mother my daughter needed me to be.  I just wanted the pain I was feeling to go away.  So I took the keys to the truck and I went into the garage, and I started it.  And as I sat there crying the pain was more intense at that moment than it has ever been.  My broken heart…how was it even still beating? I called out for help.  But no one came.  I wanted to die, but only because I wanted to the pain to end.  It seemed like I had been in there forever.  How long did this take?  I was too scared.  So I turned it off and opened the garage door.  I cried myself to sleep sitting right there.  But the next night…I did it all over again.  And again….I was too scared.

So here’s where the stirring comes in…If anyone ever confides in you that they have attempted suicide…don’t tell them that’s the coward’s way out.  You have no idea what they are feeling or what they are going through.  And let me tell you something…everyone is entitled to how they feel.  You have no right to tell them how they should feel.  Anyone that is low enough to attempt to take their own life and is confiding in you with that information is trusting you enough that they think you will support them in some way shape or form, not come back with some type of negative comment such as that.  People who attempt suicide have their reasons and I can guarantee you that none of those reasons is to ever intentionally hurt someone they love. You’re missing the point completely. It’s solely about the pain they are feeling.   And if you can’t find anything to say that isn’t negative, then turn around and walk away without saying a damn thing!  If you cannot be supportive than learn to just be quiet.

I am in a better place now.  No I am in no way shape or form better.  I have a long way to go.  I may not ever be better.  I still hurt.  My heart is still in pieces.  I don’t know that I will ever be whole again.  Who knows.  But what I do know is that I was stopped both those nights for a reason, and am thankful for that reason.  I am not strong like I used to be, but I know I am brave because I was able to cont;nue on when I really, really didn’t want to.  And I know that I now have something else to advocate even stronger for, because it is more personal now more than ever.

Know that if you’ve felt this way, or are feeling this way now that you’re not alone, nor do you have to be a warrior in this battle alone.  There ARE people that care! Reach out…even if it’s to me!

Virtual hugs!

BLag

My Brave Face

I’m going to be honest. I have started and restarted this blog about a million times. Ok maybe not that many. But enough. This is hard thing to put words to, but I’ll try.

In the last few weeks we lost Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain to suicide. As supportive as people have been… it’s always followed up with why?
Why would someone who seemingly had it all take their own life?
If we could that answer we wouldn’t have to ask the question would we?
What I know is I have had two people who I was incredibly close to take their own lives.
Whenever this comes up in the news my brain buzzes. Not just for me but my family who have been trying to gently shut the door on something no one should ever have a door to anyway.

A few years ago a close family member took their own life, even worse it played out a bit on social media. But that is not my story to tell. So that’s all I will say.

However, this is my story…the very first man to ever break my heart took his own life. I carry so much guilt over it. It’s been years and I still carry the weight of what I could of, if anything done differently.He had months previous reached out to me as he had for years around Christmas. He missed me, he loved me, I was his biggest regret. As I always did, I curtly thanked him and said I did not feel the same.

Two months later he was dead. I read it about it on Facebook. Sometimes I really f*&$ing hate Facebook.

When news breaks about a celebrity taking their own life I start to feel sad, mad, wonder could I have done differently?

My answer is nothing. Depression & anxiety have a horrible ability of finding a hairline fracture and turning it into a full on break. The reality is not everyone wears their worries on their sleeve but it doesn’t mean they’re hurting any less.

It’s easy to question why. What I try to remember is what may seem like a grain of sand to me can feel like a whole beach to someone else.

There is a fantastic quote “misery is easy, happiness you have to work at.”
For some people that’s beyond true. Happiness is a lot of work.

I know that first hand. I am the Queen of coulda, woulda, shoulda. It keeps me awake at night. It gives me migraines. Thankfully I’ve learned – thanks to some pretty fantastic therapists- what I need to do when Ms. Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda are paying a visit.

It hasn’t always been that way and there are still days I give the ladies an audience. I had a huge wake up call from a friend, who by the way is no longer a friend. When I experienced my first deep downward spiral. She called me at work and told me she couldn’t be friends with me anymore because I was too depressing. Mind you I had just gotten dumped by a man who cheated on me with a co-worker. My heart was breaking in a million pieces, so yes I was probably a downer. I was SAD.

I got pissed. I was a Happy person. Even happy people can hurt. You are allowed to be sad. You are allowed to be heartbroken and if someone tells you otherwise. F them!  Seriously.

Also, please for all that is holy don’t be this person- “just get over it.” Wow just get over it. My marriage is ending, this was not my plan. I’m up to my eyeballs in debt, I’m now on my own with a 2 1/2 year old. But you betcha I’ll get right over it.

Why is it as a society we assign shame to sadness? Maybe that is the answer to that unfortunate question.

The same people who say reach out, say ask for help- can just as easily forget that is a really hard thing to do when you’re hurting. It’s easier to burrow, run, shut down. It’s hard to keep up. It’s hard to be made to feel like you need to. It’s hard to be on 24/7. It’s hard to be happy all the time. You can be with a million people and still feel hurt and lonely.

Here is the thing you don’t. Really you don’t. I can say that to you, to myself and maybe it will stick. Maybe it won’t and that’s ok too.

So for now I will do what I always do. I will get on a back country road go very fast, blare Rage Against the Machine maybe get pulled over. Instead of a ticket get the world’s most awkward hug from the poor state trooper who pulled me over as I was crying telling him I’m just having a really bad day. I will put on my favorite T-shirt. I will goof around and try to copy a You Tube makeup tutorial. I might spend some money on Amazon I don’t have. I will eat a doughnut, pour myself a glass of wine. Hug my daughter, let my dog on my bed.

I will put on my brave face. I will work hard at being happy.

But what I think we all need to remember, myself included is happiness IS hard work, for some people it’s harder than others.

~Caprise~