When mental illness messes up your adulting
Dear friends,
I missed not one, but two newsletters, and I am terribly sorry. You probably didn't even notice, and for that I'm grateful (and slightly insulted) - but I missed writing them, and felt inexplicably guilty.
The first one I missed for a happy reason: I was socializing! This is always noteworthy, because it still doesn't come easily to me. Before leaving the house to meet friends I have this long, internal struggle between my introvert-self that tells me that it's nowhere as nice as it is at home, and my better judgment that knows that I will enjoy it once I'm out and about.
Two weeks ago my better judgment won, and I drove 3 hours to see two of my friends. It was a beautiful weekend, with great conversations and many laughs, and I was so glad I didn't let my inner scaredy-cat win. However, having had a full weekend, combined with work and editing my book, meant that I had nothing left in me to give - meaning, no newsletter that week.
Last week's reason wasn't as happy. I hesitated even talking about it, because it's so boring, and it happens regularly, and I don't want to sound like a broken record. But then I remembered that there are so many of us out there, and maybe it will help some of you to know that you're not alone.
Richard left 9 days ago for Germany, and it threw me into a depression. Before you roll your eyes and think "sheesh, she can't live without her husband? what kinda weak-ass woman is she?", let me explain that I'm quite capable to be by myself. Like I mentioned, I'm an introvert, and I LOVE being alone. We are not one of those couples who are joined at the hip (but if you are, good for you!), but do quite a few things separately.
However, whenever he's away, I'm reminded that, while I'm great at pretending to be a fully-functioning adult, I'm actually not. I hide behind my husband's broad shoulders by letting him handle all the unpleasant adult stuff: Dealing with conflict, handling phone calls, talking to angry neighbours.
He's confident and unflappable, and I'm easily discouraged and extremely flappable. I can't indulge my usual reflex of wanting to hide in the house when someone drops in unexpectedly, because I can't send Richard out to talk to the people. I've tried to teach the dogs to chase them away, but they are useless. Instead of being growly and intimidating, they are more welcoming than a perfect Southern hostess, which means I have to go and let whoever is there see me how I really am: In my PJs at 3 in the afternoon, teeth unbrushed, hair uncombed, with a deer-in-the-headlights-scared expression on my face.
My entire body language screams FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PLEASE GO AWAY!, but since I still want whoever is there to like me, I try to pretend that I'm normal.
I don't think I'm very successful.
So, last week went something like this: Getting up early to feed the horses, cows, sheep and goats. Go to work, act surprisingly normal(ish), go home to feed a million birds, muttering resentfully under my breath for having to do this. Being chased by angry asshole-turkey, yelling at him that "I will eat you soon, and I will enjoy every bite, motherfucker!".
Going over to nice next-door neighbours (who have also abandoned me) to feed their cats and pick up tiny body parts of dismembered mice. They kill a mouse a day, rip her to pieces, and leave the pieces for me to clean up. I believe that they take a little bite, because one of the cats gets diarrhea and doesn't like to use the kitty box when having diarrhea. Or she just couldn't make it. Either way, I have to clean up bits of mice and dried cat diarrhea.
By the time I'm back outside, all of our dogs have followed me, by either jumping over the fence (Tom Snow) or squeezing under the fence through the holes that Barney dug (the rest of them). It's holes, plural - there's more than one. Barney loves digging, and he loves following me.
It would be cute, were it not for my anxiety of him using the hole as an escape route to chase unsuspecting joggers. He's only done it once, and he stayed quite far behind the jogger, but I don't know if he'll try harder next time, and now I'm constantly on edge.
I'm too worn out to go grocery shopping or to cook a decent meal, so I'm eating pasta with ketchup (my comfort meal), Mr. Noodles, sandwiches, tortilla chips with salsa, or wine. The only food preventing me from scurvy is the tomatoes we grow in our garden, because I eat them by the bucket. Thank god for tomatoes.
I cry three times, once on the phone, making Richard feel guilty and resentful. In turn I feel guilty for spoiling his vacation, but also resentful for him leaving me in the first place and putting me through all this.
I'm also waiting to hear back from the job interview I had 9 days ago (I'm still waiting, btw), which is stressful.
So yeah, that was my week.
I get these kinda weeks several times a year. This time it was triggered (and then compounded) by the fact of Richard leaving, but that's not the reason. There is no reason. It's the nature of my mental illness, which is quite mild compared to many, so I'm one of the lucky ones. But it still sucks big time when I'm in the midst of it, and I have to remind myself constantly that it will pass (it always does), and that being with people helps.
If you look at photos like these ones you would never think that I had a shitty day just hours before.
That's why you can't take at face value what you see online, because it's always only half the story. Behind every happy photo are tears, anger, hurt, sadness, or insecurity. That's life; none of us can avoid it.
However, that's not to say that the photo is telling a lie: I was extremely happy that night, being with people I love, meeting new ones effortlessly (thanks, open bar), and knowing that the worst of this bout of depression was over.
Until next time.
I might never be completely free of it, but I know one thing for sure: I won't let depression ruin my life. I will cry, and hide under the blankets for a while, and snuggle the dogs; but I know that it will pass, and that there are thousands of moments of happiness, joy, and laughter in my future.
They are also in your future.
No matter how dark today may look, light is coming.
There is always light.
xo Miriam
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Vol. 35