new leaves

I'm blowing off my psych. appointment.

And I don't feel bad about it.

A few weeks ago I started taking Celexa as well as Wellbutrin to combat the anxiety and depression I had sunk into after getting pregnant. At first, as with any new mood altering drug, it was hard to sleep and I felt jittery and just awful. I was considering just giving up on the whole thing. But I was encouraged to persevere by Dr. Steiner and I noticed the difference within a few days of the new medication. It's like magic.
Side note: I know that I'm pregnant and so these drugs are also being passed to the baby, but if the professionals think this is better for the baby than having an emotional wreck of a mother would be, than I must do what I must do. If the professionals thought it would be better to take me off all of the drugs, I would. I really do want the best for my little bean.
So anyway as I was saying, I began to feel better in no time at all. In fact, I haven't had a weepy spell at all since starting on Celexa. This is big! I was having them at least every couple of days. And that is just the beginning!
I got the nesting urge, and got everything ready for Carter's arrival. His clothes are clean and folded, bassinet is in the corner of our room, fit with blankets and mobile, and all of his things have a special place in our tiny environment.
I am painting for him! I had been meaning to do this for months and just couldn't. But now I'm at it. I am rubbing my belly affectionately without even realizing I am doing it. I sing Jimmy Eat World songs to him and fantasize about the moment we meet, what he will look like, and what his favourite disney movie might be. This is how I knew I wanted to be but I wasn't and I knew he deserved better. Now he has better because I feel so much more like me. Fuckin' eh.

So screw the appointment. I will reschedule. I just don't feel like talking about negative feelings today. I left my last appointment feeling like pond scum, anyway. Next time. Promise.

small update...

I've been good lately!
Everything has been pretty good. To a degree, one of the best cures for depression is distraction. So I have been distracting myself. From time to time the beast creeps up on me and I have to change my scenery; go for a walk, a car ride, or just go upstairs and hang out with my mother. That helps. The other day I was at the hospital again, visiting with my obstetrician. Because of my history with my "mood deterioration" they always make me see their social worker, Valerie. She was pretty amazed by the fact that I have been trying to get a medication change for 2 months and haven't gotten any response from the clinic or from my family doctor, so she left some nasty messages on a couple machines for me. Good lady. I am not expecting any phone calls today, though. I've given up. It's been a long time and I am tired of waiting for doctors to get back to me. So I distract myself. And things are good, most of the time.
I have to tidy this basement today.
Oy vey.

praise for the 'if tom cruise were in charge i'd be dead by now' vitamin!

it bothers me that no one has the patience to deal with someone who is just sad. -Emily Haines.

I read that quote today on someone's tumblr...
And I have to admit that there are fewer things I could agree with more.

Depression and I are likethis. I feel like we always have been. I have been dealing with my depression for as long as I can remember.
And at first it wasn't easy to admit to myself that something was wrong. I think it wasn't until I graduated high school that things started to get really bad for me. I dated a guy who hit me, I wrote someone a love letter in blood, I dropped out of university and I quit almost every job (and didn't quit the right way). And I went years without any help, without any medication, without really knowing what was wrong. I knew I was sad. Who really knows what depression is? Who is to say that any of us is or isn't in an unshakable funk. No, no it's more than an unshakable funk: it is being the walking dead. It is being unable to get up in the morning, it is being unable to face the world, it is being unable to go through a day without some mind-altering drug for fear you will break down and have a fit in front of everyone. Because you can't do that; because you can't be sad. People treat the depressed the way they treat anybody who is mentally ill. They treat them like freaks.
And it really is just an incredible, all-consuming sadness. I think we need to have more respect for those who suffer from it. I have met far too many people who claim the Tom Cruise theory: no one is depressed and no one needs medication.
Well I am going to tell you my experience with depression. I assure you, I did not want to be on medication. I assure you, I suffered for years without it, and I assure you that it only got worse until I faced it and treated it in whatever way I could in order to feel like a person once again. I can't remember ever feeling like one.

I think any chronically depressed person has an idea when it started and why. I was a very awkward little girl. I was so shy and I didn't make friends easily. My mother would probably disagree with that, but trust me. I wasn't a very popular little girl. I specifically remember recess being an absolute nightmare; I would spend it in the corner of the playground combing a troll doll's hair. I knew I was just a little bit different. I didn't get along with many girls because they made me uncomfortable, they made me shy (probably because I grew up with brothers?). And because of this, they thought I was just retarded. My social skills were always lacking, and sometimes they still do. At any rate, I remember the first time I ever felt lonely was when my best friend in second grade declared that she had gotten a new best friend. I begged her to reconsider and take me back, but she didn't. I offered her my entire sticker collection and she still broke my heart. And I sat alone at lunch that day. Eventually we were best friends again, but I was wise enough to realize that I obviously put much more stock in this friendship than it warranted and I felt cheated. I began to withdraw into a world where people had less chance to hurt me. And there I always stayed. I have always retreated into books, writing stories or poems, and I always played better by myself than with others. I had to be my own best friend. Nobody else really liked me.
This has largely always been my experience with the world. I was just awkward and I felt like nobody understood me at all. Nobody was like me. I have only had a few close friends in my lifetime because of this, and all of them eventually leave as well. It only gets more difficult as you grow up. For instance, I never made a single friend in my 2 years of university. Not one. That's probably why I dropped out; it was the loneliest period of my life. All I had was a toxic relationship with a guy who, as I mentioned, hit me. Luckily that only happened once.

In the last year things had gotten unbearable for me. Last July I began a relationship with someone. He was (is) a wonderful human being who inspired me to be better. But we were not right for each other at all and I always knew it. The thing that hurt the most was that he refused to understand the sadness. The pain I was always in, and he couldn't figure out why.
There were times when I would cry for hours, for no reason. There were times when I couldn't do my job, I simply couldn't. I could not get up and pretend that I could take care of myself. I just wanted to die. I felt like an empty shell. Nobody had the patience. I would get drunk and cry and cry, and it would just make everyone angry. But I drank. I took drugs. I didn't know how else to handle it.
One day it just got so bad that I knew I had to try something, because I would soon die if I kept up this denial. I was dying. Medication saved me. I would like to say that I clawed my way out of despair without any help, just with positive thinking and the right attitude. Anyone with depression will tell you that's a crock of shit. Of course to some degree you have to want to get better, and you have to decide to take ownership of your life once more. But that only gets you so far. At some point you have to accept help. You can't beat this alone. And the day eventually comes when you simply can't fight it alone anymore, because you're as low and beaten down as a person can be.

I have always let people hurt me. I have always given my entire heart and I have always been rejected in the end. My former best friend, for instance, always treated me like a child and I only recently grew a pair and decided she could just go fuck herself. C'est la vie! That is one example of the ways in which my life has changed since my depression has lifted. I am happy to say that I no longer cry for no reason. I don't do drugs and I don't get drunk and feel sorry for myself. I haven't called in sick at all, just so I could lay in bed and hate myself. I eat regularly, and I sleep pretty well. I don't fear the future because I know who I am. That's definitely a first. I am even slightly less awkward!

I guess this post is really just about patience. If you know someone in your life who is sad, be patient. Don't walk out on them. Don't tell them to just be happy. That is the worst advice ever. Don't bother reminding them of how precious life is and how lucky they are; they know. Just be there, and don't be judgmental. Be a friend. Have the patience.