Day 21

This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

TW: Mention of suicide, mention of gunshot, mention of gore.

I skipped a day again.

But missing 2 days this month isn’t really all that bad, and I don’t really have something to write about every day right now.

I slept till almost noon today.

Didn’t even do my wakeup at 7am to roll over and go back to sleep.

I just slept.

I feel bad for sleeping so much. I’m in bed by midnight at the latest, and sleeping at least 12 hours almost every night.

Partly it’s the sleeping meds.

Partly it’s depression.

Partly it’s still healing from trauma.

It feels like it’s taking so long.

I’m shaming myself for all the things I can’t do, and it’s hard to focus on what I am doing.

For all the things I can’t do, yet.

I keep trying to remind myself that it’s okay that I’m not back to where I was.

I’ll get there.

Apparently, it’s just going to take more time than I like.

My therapist said yesterday that this may not be as much depression, as it is shutting down from the trauma.

Still blocking emotions out.

I feel so flat.

Even things I normally enjoy are just,

flat.

I don’t want to get out of bed in the morning because there’s nothing to look forward to.

It’s nice not being suicidal, but I miss,

living.

I was living my best life, and now I’m just struggling to get out of bed each day.

And I’m trying to be gentle with myself, while also pushing enough that I keep progressing.

But honestly, it’s hard.

It’s hard not to feel like I’m failing.

It’s hard not to feel like I’m letting people down.

It’s hard not to feel like I’m letting myself down.

Healing is exhausting.

And I’m still angry.

Fuck him for taking my stability.

Truly, fuck him.

It’s quiet in the house right now.

I keep forgetting to turn on music but yet, the silence allows the intrusive memories to come.

Fuck him for making every memory of that week turn into a gunshot.

Into a gory image of him in a wheelchair with blood dripping from his face.

Into an image of blood caked on the front of the wheelchair.

Into an image of my sister scrubbing the remnants out of the carpet.

Fuck him.

I’m having bbq, bacon wrapped, shrimp for Thanksgiving.

Wonder Woman hates seafood, hates the smell of it, so I only really cook it when she’s out of town.

My dad used to have seafood for holiday dinners.

It was nice because I’d have a traditional holiday meal at my mom’s house,

and then I’d go to my dad’s and have a seafood feast.

He always made the bbq bacon wrapped shrimp.

I miss it.

It’s been years and years since we’ve had a meal like that.

Years and years since he said “Dad is great, dad is good, lets thank dad for this meal.”

Years and years since he screamed at me for not cleaning fast enough before my sister got there.

Years and years.

I don’t miss him.

I don’t miss the forced phone calls that I tried to make each week because he was an old lonely man who had no other contact with the outside world.

I don’t miss the overwhelming anxiety when I would go for a visit.

I don’t miss the sound of him screaming because I didn’t do things the way that he wanted.

I don’t miss him.

Fuck him.

Fuck him for setting me back so far.

Day 17

This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

Today has been productive.

It feels good.

I had PHP this morning.

I over slept.

I almost didn’t go at all.

But I did.

Afterwards I had coffee with a high school friend. Someone I probably haven’t seen since we graduated.

Or maybe in my Denny’s days right after high school.

Conversation flowed easily, and my ever present anxiety was quiet for a change.

We sat outside.

The cold wind threatening to blow our drinks over.

But it was nice to be around someone as worried about safety as I am.

We talked a lot about Covid.

About how our lives have changed.

And how it will never go back to the normal that was.

There will forever be a new normal.

It felt nice to socialize.

When I got home I was worn out.

The smallest things do that now.

But the coffee kept me going.

I spent this evening filling envelopes with already created cards.

I’ve made 64 so far.

I need to make another 33.

I’m having so much fun with them, so much love is going into these pieces of paper.

And I’m surrounded by so much love.

I remember being in school, horribly bullied, with no idea what was wrong with me.

Or what I was doing wrong.

Now, I’m surrounded by a support system bigger than most people have.

All of you that read my posts.

Some silently.

Some reacting.

Some commenting.

The people inviting me out for coffee and walks.

The people keeping me company over zoom or at bonfires.

It’s nice to be so loved.

It’s nice to be able to feel that love.

Instead of being surrounded by a fog that won’t let it in.

I’m feeling better every day.

I’m sure rough times will come again, but I’m also sure I can handle them.

For now, though, I’m going to enjoy the clear blue skies.

Day 16

This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

I skipped a day.

Nothing was really happening and I couldn’t figure out a topic to write about, so I kept waiting for inspiration.

And thought about it one last time as I was dozing off.

It gets boring for me to write “day in the life” posts day after day with no real content.

No real direction.

Especially when each day, looks like the day before, and the day before, and the day before.

Quarantine life is so damn boring.

I’ve taken two naps today, short naps, but still, laying down and dozing off.

I’m just not feeling 100%.

Partially its still depression, partially it’s that boredom of every day feeling like the last.

Today was a good day though.

I had PHP this morning, and group therapy was really productive.

I love when I end a group feeling like I have more insight than I did when it started.

After PHP I went for a walk with a derby friend. Someone who I haven’t seen since last season.

There hasn’t really been a season this year.

We walked slowly, stopping often for her dog to sniff around, and just talked.

We stayed distant from each other on the path, giving each other air hugs from 6 feet away before we left.

This new normal is odd, but finding safe ways to socialize is important.

I have coffee with another friend tomorrow, and then we’re repeating today’s walk on Thursday.

Sunday, Wonder Woman and I are having a friend over for another bonfire.

Quite a socially busy week for me, and it feels so good.

It feels good to have interest in this again.

It feels good to push myself not to cancel, because depression and anxiety want to get in the way.

But I’m not letting them.

I’m worth the fight.

I’m working on making socially distant plans with friends for next week.

I’ll be alone for a few days, and while I’m looking forward to the “me time,” I also don’t want to open myself up for the thoughts to creep back in.

Quiet is good, but getting myself stuck in the house isn’t.

I also have plans to turn up the music and get some serious cleaning done around here.

From months of staying at home, to long stretches of depression, my house is worse than it’s ever been.

I plan to get it back under control while she’s gone.

Organize my space to organize my mind.

I feel so much better though. I feel like the meds are working, I feel more like,

me.

Day 14

This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

I’ve been working on cards all day.

Slept in and then jumped right in finishing cards I started yesterday.

I got tired of being in the house so I left for a drive alone out to a Starbucks (duh) that was further away than my normal one.

I just wanted to be out of the house.

That’s an improvement.

Now to get myself back to walking.

But it’s getting better.

Slowly.

Too slowly.

But I need to be patient.

I don’t really have much to write about today. But I’m 14 days in and I’d hate to miss a day now.

My machine is cutting a material that has to be cut at a low speed.

Normally it’s loud and almost jarring, but right now it’s a musical rhythm. Calming, soothing.

Makes me want to go to sleep. But it’s too late for a nap, too early for bed.

I’ve been tired all day.

But also restless.

And somewhat creative, but I’m getting bored of that.

Not really sure what to work on next that will interest me.

I’m still blah.

But it’s getting better.

Slowly.

Too slowly.

But I need to be patient.

I’ve been having more flashbacks about my dad.

Memories of the week he was home.

Getting frustrated with him for making my job harder.

For being so fucking stubborn.

Fucking asshole.

And every memory ends with the gunshot.

I keep packing them away in my virtual box.

Taping it closed and putting it on the shelf.

It helps for a little while, but inevitably it comes back.

Another memory from that week.

Another gunshot.

It will get better.

Slowly.

Too slowly.

But I need to be patient.

Healing takes time.

Day 11

This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

I forgot about my therapy appointment tonight.

She messaged me when I was 15 minutes late, but I didn’t see it until I was almost 30 minutes late.

She saw me anyway.

In the 6ish years I’ve been seeing this therapist, I think this is the first time I’ve forgotten and been late.

I’m thankful that she checked on me so that I didn’t miss it completely.

There wasn’t a lot to talk about. Life has been pretty uneventful.

I’m flip flopping back and forth between depressed, and functional. Things are getting better.

Slowly.

I’m crafting.

Slowly.

My sink is empty, but tonight we ordered out because I didn’t have the energy left over to cook.

My machine is cutting an intricate project that will take me hours to weed (removing the negative space).

I’m looking forward to the meditative process.

I’m enjoying writing every day, but I don’t have anything major to write about.

Just random ramblings about my day.

Random thoughts.

Random.

I’m tired today, but I’m avoiding a nap.

I want to sleep tonight.

I slept well last night, waking up this morning fully rested for a change.

But I still slept too much. I had told myself if I woke up early, I could get Starbucks before PHP.

I didn’t get Starbucks.

I’ll try again tomorrow.

Day 9

This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

Today is one of those days that I’m not really sure what to talk about. But also, it’s the 9th day in a row of me writing and I feel like I might actually make it to one post a day all month.

I woke up early this morning, to start PHP (partial hospitalization program). Well, early for me, I’ve been sleeping till noon (or later) and today I was up and ready to go before 10.

PHP was exhausting, it’s so mentally draining even though it’s only a few hours long. I wanted a nap afterwards but had drank too much coffee to sleep.

That’s probably a good thing, I need to stop napping so much during the day.

I’ve been working on a really neat holiday card. I’m enjoying this particular design. I spent the afternoon getting the pieces cut out, and assembling the first one.

Three more to go.

Group group (group therapy) was at 530, and even though I felt too emotionally drained to attend, I did.

I feel like the fog is lifting, at least a little. I was able to do dishes today without fighting myself over it. I’m not dreading the idea of cooking dinner.

But I’m still tired.

Drained.

It’s been a long day with too much coffee.

Too much talking.

Too much vulnerability.

I’ll spend the evening putting together the rest of the cards, and maybe starting another one.

It’s nice to get a little bit of feeling like myself.

Here’s hoping it lasts.

Day 8

This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

I woke up today feeling like it was a better day.

It was a late start, but I felt good.

I made my morning coffee, my morning smoothie, and I sat down to craft.

I cut out the pieces for four copies of one of the more intricate cards I’m doing.

I washed the dishes.

I was feeling really good.

And I put the first card together.

And started to drag. The pieces for 3 more were sitting there and I just didn’t want to start on them.

I climbed in bed to cuddle with Wonder Woman.

And she decided to take a nap.

I stayed in bed, awake, for over two hours. Not tired enough to sleep, but too blah to be out of bed.

I just booked a cabin on a lake for my 40th birthday. A 4 day vacation that I’m both looking forward to,

and not all that excited about.

I mean, I am definitely happy that we get to go away.

That I’m home to celebrate my 40th.

But I just can’t feel the joy.

It’s stuck behind the fog.

Now the pieces for 3 more cards are staring at me.

Pieces that will surely be knocked around by a playful kitten if I don’t put them together.

So even though I feel no interest, I’m going to grab the glue and start assembling.

Hopefully some joy will find me while I’m working.

Hopefully I can find my way out of this fog.

Day 7

This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

We went on a road trip today. Drove out to the middle of nowhere, Amish country, with no agenda in mind.

Except for hopefully leaving our depression behind.

My depression decided to tag along.

I enjoyed myself, but it was through a thick fog.

I didn’t really want to get out of the car and do things, but I did.

And I’m glad I did, I think it helped a little,

maybe.

We saw hot air balloons way too high in the sky.

We saw horse drawn buggies.

We went to an orchard and got apple butter and pumpkin pie.

And before driving home we sat in a converted railcar diner and ate while watching a beautiful sunset.

It really was a good day.

But depression was along for the ride.

It was hard to see through the fog and smile.

I wanted to come back home and sleep.

And I was pretty sure, when we got home that was exactly what I was going to do.

But instead I picked up my current crafty project and started working on that.

Instead I put fingers to keys to keep my November streak going.

Instead I put headphones in with uplifting music.

I’m trying.

Really really trying.

But the dishes are piled up from last night’s dinner and I’m wondering if I’ll have the energy to tackle them tonight.

I feel like I’m drained from our all day adventure.

I feel like it took everything out of me.

I feel overwhelmed every time I glance into the kitchen.

Every time I look around at a house that needs to be cleaned.

It feels like so much, and I feel like I did so much leaving the house today.

And I know this will pass.

I know it’ll get easier.

But for now, depression is my constant companion.

Day 6

This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

I did my dishes.

This morning when I went to cook brunch, I piled dirty dishes upon dirty dishes on the stove.

I hate cooking in a dirty kitchen.

But I cooked. And after I ate (kind of, most of it got thrown away because it did not turn out well) I put loud music on my headphones and I did the dishes.

I should have wiped down the counters and the stove, and I didn’t, and that’s okay.

I did the dishes.

A LOT of dishes.

Now I’m going to sit and play a video game until my tele-pdoc apointment at 2. And then I’m going to game some more until my therapy appointment at 430.

I’m tired.

I’m sleeping for around 12 hours at night (sometimes more) and still taking a nap in the evening.

Depression is exhausting.

When I woke up at 630 this morning I really tried to get up. Tried to find something that was worth getting out of bed for. Tried to drum up enough interest in my current video game, or maybe cooking a good breakfast, or maybe making some more cards.

Or even just coffee.

And instead I woke up again at noon.

But I got up, and I cooked, and I did the dishes.

Small baby steps to keep myself moving forward.

Yesterday I showered. A way overdue shower that I had been beating myself up for.

But I showered.

Today, I might even do my hair before I get on video chat with my therapist.

Maybe.

It’s finding that fine line between pushing enough to keep myself going, and pushing too much and shaming myself further into depression.

Such a fine line to walk.

And today,

I did my dishes.

Day 5

This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

I’m not suicidal.

I’m ridiculously depressed.

But I’m not suicidal.

Normally they come together. And I’ve had the passing thoughts, but they are quiet and go away quickly.

My new tools help them pass along.

But I’m depressed.

I’ve been telling myself I have to take a shower for a few days now.

Really, just take a shower.

But the fog is getting deeper.

I walked yesterday. Sent her a message in the middle of the day saying “I’m dressed and I think I can make myself get out of the house if we go right now.”

So we walked.

This morning I woke up early after a weird dream about getting my father on antidepressants.

I went out for a bit and had breakfast with a friend.

I came home and went right back to bed. Hours later I still didn’t want to get up, but I couldn’t sleep anymore.

Now I’m just staring at facebook. Seeing the same posts over and over again because I’ve been looking for so long.

This will take time to lift. Changing medications is hard and they made so many changes while I was in there.

I’m hungry, and I can’t tell if I’m hungry because I’m actually hungry, or if I’m hungry because I’m depressed.

I still have hope that this will get better. It will. I’m not filled with dread over the thought of this continuing. It’s just a passing phase and it will get better.

I start PHP on monday and that’ll help.

I have therapy tomorrow and that’ll help.

But this isn’t a quick fix. Antidepressants take weeks to kick in.

I’m on so many pills right now. Between medical meds and mental health meds and vitamins.

So many pills.

But, they keep me alive.

And I’m glad to be alive.