I'm so tired.
I forgot how exhausting it is for me (hell, most of us) to grow a tiny human.
Right before Christmas, everything was shiny, clean, and organized.
After the holiday and a week of guests, it looks like a bomb went off...
|Piles like this are everywhere! 4 of 356|
I need to get things back in order.
I need to put away dunes of laundry.
I need to scrub out the fridge before it starts taking hostages.
Just the basics of getting through the day with O saps all my energy.
He's fed, mostly clean (I kid) and loved, so I'm winning at life, right?
[Shout out to Disney Jr. and PBS for their supportive roles in this endeavor...ahem...]
|Oh, Mickey...Thanks for inviting us to your clubhouse! 5 of 365|
When he naps, I nap.
And keeping my eyes open after 9pm is quite the feat...
I miss my meds.
Aside from helping me manage the mental loops of depression, they were instrumental in managing the physical effects of not only depression, but of chronic illness/pain/fatigue.
Which I often feel are more damaging to my well-being then the mental side effects...
Quitting them cold-turkey has been a royal bitch.
The headaches alone...
But the thing I hate the most?
The way I'm treated off my meds...
(DISCLAIMER: it's not everyone and it's not all the time, but it's prevalent enough to be an established pattern)
Any emotion I have is typically treated as a farce.
It's that unspoken but CLEARLY stated attitude of:
"Pay no mind to her, she's off her meds."
Particularly if I'm upset about something...
Oh, we didn't actually hurt your feelings, disrespect your opinion, ignore your pain, or make you angry, you're just hormonal and unmedicated.
You poor thing, you.
Don't you worry though, we'll grin and bear it.
Well, isn't that fucking special.
I'm not mentally incompetent, people.
There is actual validity to my emotions.
Now, I will be the first to admit that off my meds and dependent on my level of stress, my patience wears thinner and my temper fuse is shorter, but the biggest thing that changes is my ability to
smile and fake it.
I completely lose that ability to diplomatically sidestep and do-si-do around bullshit.
I'm not trying to be a Negative Nelly, nor I am I trying to make anyone else uncomfortable/sad/whathaveyou. I'm just trying to
Deal with the reality of my life.
by being honest about it.
I get that my reality may be scary to some folks, or make others uncomfortable--
I try really hard to be aware of that, and do my best to compensate, but I don't always have it in me.
It's not very easy for me to pretend like everything is peachy when it's clearly not.
It takes a lot of fucking effort when I'm already trying to keep it together in a million other ways.
I spend a lot of time feeling guilty because I don't want to burden anyone.
Here's the thing though-
I should be able to be honest about my struggles and I should be able to ask for help.
More importantly, I deserve genuine respect and compassion when I do so...
Maybe I am a bit more blunt and a little less pliable than usual, but if you were dealing with another high-risk pregnancy (your 5th), pregnancy nausea, a busy 2-yr-old, a possibility of cancer, financial worries, chronic pain, chronic fatigue, hormone injections that give you dizziness and hot flashes, AND the effects of depression, I'd bet good money that you wouldn't be too full of roses and sunshine either.
And just because I'm unmedicated, and therefore less able to filter-- doesn't mean that someone hasn't legitimately been less than awesome.
This is (HOPEFULLY) going to be a loooong pregnancy.
I need some ice cream.
Nooo....I am so NOT eating my feelings!
It's for the BABY.
Now I'm gonna go do like the cool toddlers do and NAP.
|If you listen closely, you can hear the piles growing....the laundry is particularly prolific. Day 6 of 365|