Category: Moms

Another Birthday With Depression

So I survived another birthday; well barely. I’m not gonna lie to you (why start now) but yesterday was harder than I imagined it was going to be. My birthday celebrations began a couple of days early as two of my kids were going to be at camp already on the actual day and they wanted to be a part of it somehow. They eagerly showered me with cards and presents and even insisted that my husband do so as well so they could see my reaction when he gave me my gift (all of which were filled with a lot of love and meaning behind them). After the gift giving portion of the evening was over we headed out to my favorite restaurant for dinner (which has become somewhat of a tradition) and I ate all my favorite foods, lots of it. The evening was really nice and a welcomed distraction leading up to the big day, a day that I once looked forward to celebrating.

Since my birthday fell on a weekend this year I think it only added to the stress and angst I was already feeling. I didn’t sleep much the night before (not that I ever do) and as the clock struck midnight the birthday wishes began lighting up my phone and Facebook page and continued to do so right through the entire next day. Don’t get me wrong, I am truly grateful knowing how many people actually took the time to think of me on my birthday (and there were LOTS), whether it was through Facebook, a text message or an actual phone call my emotions quickly became overtaken by my illness within the first hour past midnight.

I couldn’t look at my phone, answering it was definitely not an option and before noon I had cried at least three times. My husband wanted to take me for lunch which I had no desire to do as the thought of eating was making my stomach turn, but I agreed on the premise that we go somewhere ‘far away’ and so we went far enough away that my first birthday wish of the day came true; we didn’t see anyone we knew! After lunch we visited a healing sanctuary which was filled with so much spirituality, an area of my life I would like to focus more attention on so long as it is not God-Centered, but instead a place where I can somehow find an interconnectedness within myself which could lead me on a path toward health and wellness.

As soon as we walked into the store we both felt a sense of calm and peace and before we knew it we had spent an hour there browsing the 1000’s of items ranging from books, music, salt lamps, jewelry, crystals, aromatherapy, the list is endless; and they also offer many healing classes and courses as well. The owner was so welcoming and soothing from the moment we walked in and by the time we left she hugged me goodbye and gave me a gift for my birthday; an Energy Healing Bracelet, but she would only let me choose one that had absolutely no black whatsoever on it. I also purchased a couple of other small items including an aromatherapy birthday cupcake which is actually soap. I must keep it in my bathroom to gaze upon for the next 365 days, but not before making a wish upon it first. That was when my second wish for the day occurred.

When we returned home I was both emotionally and physically exhausted and had lost track of how many tears I had shed thus far, but I knew the day was not quite over and I still had dinner plans and my anxiety was already escalating again even though I knew we would be dining in an intimate and stress-free environment, with close friends by my side who I knew I could be myself with, laugh with and if needed, even shed a tear with.

During my birthday over the past four years I had never really given much thought to my “I Choose Me” Mantra or ensuring I create healthy boundaries before, but this birthday I did and in the end I believe it’s those healthy boundaries and my “I Choose Me” Mantra that helped me to survive another birthday, tears and all, and by the end of the day I was still holding on to that one final wish which I am planning to save up for another day when I figure out what it is.

‘Are You Ready For The Summer?’  Well I’m Not!

It’s that time of year once again when your kids excitedly begin emptying out their knapsacks full of textbooks in exchange for their beach towels and sunscreen.  It’s that time of year once again when the April showers (and ice storms) have allowed for the May flowers to bloom and the June sky to brighten our days for hours on end.  And in our home it’s also that time of year once again when my kids hop aboard the Greyhound bus to their happy place while their father sheds his happy tears and joyfully hugs them goodbye amid his happy dance.

Tomorrow begins the official start to summer for two of my kids (unfortunately the third child has another few days of exams to get through first before her official start to summer).  But nonetheless, the dog days are here and so is another full summer of making some of the most incredible lasting memories for them.  I myself went to sleepaway camp for most of my childhood and young adult life and I can definitely tell you that is where I made some of my most incredible lasting memories (and friendships) too, but last summer my illness made it very difficult for me to remember those incredible lasting memories while they were away.

I know in my heart that my kids are safe at camp (and keeping their campers safe too!) while having the best time of their lives and making those incredible lasting memories but you see there is one major hurdle; my illness prefers to wander down the dark and sinister highways instead of taking me on a relaxing and gratifying joyride through the tranquil and serene country roads.  I should be looking forward to our ‘break’ from one another because to be completely honest, we really, really need it, this year more than ever before.

Every year since I began struggling with depression and anxiety we have been met with many additional and unthinkable challenges and adversities which are regrettably a normal part of life, but as each year passes for me I have become less and less able to cope with them, let alone the daily grind.   As I have mentioned previously in other blogs I never really experienced anxiety as a child (or adult for that matter), that is outside of what is considered to be a conventional range (as everyone suffers with anxiety from time to time) and even when I think back to a few years ago it was nowhere near where it is today.

I really can’t explain to you in a way that you would fully understand what having an anxiety disorder or panic attacks feel like because truthfully everyone’s experience is probably a little bit different.  All I can tell you is that for me over the last year my senses have become extremely heightened to the point where it is affecting my entire life, my husband’s life and most definitely my children’s lives almost daily and even though it may seem illogical, unreasonable or inexplicable to them or others, it is oh so real to me.

Just try to visualize for a moment that you are physically ill with the stomach flu and have been puking your guts up all night long, in a darkened room, all alone and someone tries to tell you that you’re imagining it, that it’s all in your head, that you take things too personally, that you’re overthinking it, that you’re affecting other people’s lives in the process or that you are simply being overly dramatic.  This is what my life with anxiety is like and yes it seems illogical, unreasonable and inexplicable to many, but for me it’s just plain exhausting, scary and very, very lonely at times when you are always afraid of your feelings or emotions.

The last thing I want is to let my anxiety and depression affect my husband and kid’s summers ahead, or have an instant replay of last summer where emergency personnel needed to intervene.  I really hope my husband gets to enjoy his well-deserved ‘break’, (but I also hope his Fitbit is fully charged for all the hiking trips I have planned!), a break from the 100’s of things he is burdened with as he continues to play the role of mom, dad and caregiver each and every day (and he is certainly not shy about letting you know how much he can’t wait for them to get on that damn bus already!).   I get it, I get his excitement, I get the kid’s excitement, I truly get it all from the bottom of my heart, I just wish my mind could get it so I can also enjoy a relaxing and gratifying joyride through the tranquil and serene country roads too.

My Birthday Present To Me; A Brand New License Plate

This Saturday I will be 47. As a child I always looked forward to celebrating my birthday; the presents, the cake, the parties, really what more could a kid ask for?  Once I had my own children my focus shifted to them and wanting to see that they got the same in return; the presents, the cake, the parties, all of it and more. I always loved planning their birthday parties especially coming up with a fun new theme each year and sometimes I even went so far as to create my own unique loot bag for all of their friends as a keepsake; doing so from scratch.  Those days have long since faded away and although they still want the presents and the cake, their party themes have sorrowfully veered away from Elmo and Dora The Explorer to Coors Lite and Vodka.

I had never really concerned myself with the thought of what birthdays truly represent which is a basic acknowledgment that you are getting older.  I guess a big part of why I never fretted over my age much as I was growing up was perhaps because as the baby in my family I longed to be older so I could do more of the things my brother got to do first.  I also consider that another reason age was never such a big deal to me the older I got (when I turned 30 and 40 I didn’t even bat an eyelash) was due to the fact that I don’t look my age at all and never have (just ask the concerned bridal consultants when I was dress shopping for my wedding), or maybe it’s simply that I married a guy who’s almost nine years older than me!

Over the last few years however the significance of birthdays and getting older has impacted my mental wellness considerably.  Birthdays are supposed to be a happy occasion filled with celebration and hopefully a day for being pampered and spoiled by your loved ones, but instead nowadays as that day approaches for me I begin to feel more anxious and sadder.  Birthdays, although considered to be a happy occasion can also cause us to reflect, well at least they do for me.  Turning a whole year older now signifies another year that I am still battling with depression and anxiety, another year of reflecting on the ‘what if’s’, the regrets and the missed opportunities.  They are all neatly wrapped together in a tiny little box with a beautiful pink bow on top just like that birthday present you once longed for except this time as you tear away the layers of wrapping paper you are hoping it has a gift receipt attached to it because all you can see inside that box now are the ‘what ifs, the regrets and the missed opportunities.

This past weekend seemed to add further fuel to that growing fire.  Every year about six weeks before your birthday you receive a notification in the mail as a reminder that your license plate sticker needs to be renewed (well in Canada that’s how it works at least).  This year was a double whammy for me, actually it was more like a quadruple one because I not only needed to renew my license plate sticker which is quite simple and can be done so online, but I also needed to renew my actual license and health card too which for most individuals would not be such a big deal, just time consuming, but for me, well it’s a whole other story.

Needing to renew my license and health cards meant I had to go to the crowded license bureau itself and it also meant I would have to have my picture taken, yup just a few of the 100’s of things that would cause my anxiety to soar through the roof, driving outside my comfort zone nowadays, being alone in crowded rooms and last but definitely not least having my picture taken which I will have to look at for the next five years when all I want to do is erase any memories that represent this fractured part of my life.  To help avert part of the problem my husband agreed to take me and although he couldn’t resolve the issue of having my picture taken, he came to my rescue once again.

Over the past few months I have not been able to drive much due to my anxiety and panic attacks and will only do so within my comfort zone, but within that comfort zone I stand out like a sore thumb because for the last 30 plus years I have been driving around with a personalized license plate, and everyone who knows me or has ever known me, knows I’m coming from miles away. It was originally my mother’s plates which my family had given to her as a birthday present over 30 years ago but at some point in my late teens I became the sole owner and operator of her then baby blue Le Baron and the license plate too.  I was more than happy to keep the license plate as it was my dog’s name, and once my dog was no longer with us it meant even more, and believe it or not it still does today, however recently having a personalized license plate has been adding to my list of anxieties.  It may be difficult for someone to understand who doesn’t suffer from acute anxiety or a severe lack of self-esteem but when all I want to do is hide or drive through the neighbourhood with the least amount of resistance I needed to make that change.

It was by far a much more difficult decision for me than it seemed leading up to that moment as I stood speaking to the customer service representative at the license bureau asking her what I needed to do in order to change my plates.  After she finished telling me the simple steps it would take in doing so, she said, ‘so would you like to do this today?’  I hesitated and tears began to stream down my face (yup, that’s how life goes for me), and my husband who was waiting nearby saw my struggle and piped in and said, ‘yes, she would.’

You see it’s those simple and loving nudges I need in my life, the ones that help me look toward my future instead of sticking to my past.  I will never let go of that personalized license plate, rust and all, in fact my kids were actually a bit sad when we arrived home with my shiny new plates, so maybe when they buy their first car I will wrap up those plates for them with a beautiful pink bow on top, knowing that they will take as good care of them as I have, but this time there will be no need to attach a gift receipt inside.

IS SUICIDE SELFISH? *Sensitive Content*

If you have ever walked inside of a Kate Spade outlet or been fortunate enough to own one of her signature bags or any of her many other creations for that matter you will know that her brand is unique and distinctive. Her brand beams with excitement and fun and is overflowing with bright, bold stylish patterns and designs. Much like her designs, Kate herself was recognized as a bright, bold, fun and unique individual to the outside world as well as a fashion icon and a very successful self-made businesswoman. She was also an inspiration to millions of young, like-minded girls around the world, but now, since the very first broadcast and publication of her suicide, speculation and rumours have quickly shined a whole new light on her. A light that is being overshadowed by discernment and the belief that she is to be remembered simply as cowardly and selfish.

The Internet and other news outlets are being inundated with ‘fake news’ and false pretenses about Kate’s suicide and the impact she left behind to those who looked up to her and especially to those who loved her. Unfortunately, as many of you know, suicide is excruciatingly difficult to fathom when you are standing on the outside looking in and even more so when someone who seems to have it all could be hurting that much. It becomes so easy for people to caste judgement on or anger towards another human being who has completed the act of suicide, but for someone like myself I only see the lack of awareness and understanding about how depression truly works.

Depression and many other mental illnesses can shatter even the strongest, most successful and most loving people you know. I know how depression feels and how easily and quickly it can manifest into self-destructive behaviour where your brain begins to overpower your heart. I know how suicide would impact on my family, but my depression tells me otherwise. My depression constantly tells me that I am a burden to those who love me, that I am just making things worse for them and that they would be better off without me.

My depression tells me lies each and every day from the moment I wake up until the moment I finally close my eyes late at night. It doesn’t tell me what my heart wants, but instead it tells me what my mind needs. It tells me I am hopeless and worthless and that all of my efforts in regaining some kind of normalcy again are pointless. It is constantly reminding me that this is as good as it’s ever gonna get and that I may not have physically left my family but emotionally I checked out a long time ago and there ain’t no going back. My depression also knows I have a lot to be grateful for in my life but my mind continues to play tricks on me, telling my heart I’m undeserving of any type of happiness, success or the love from my family.

Social media and other news outlets along with the general population will continue to speculate and spread rumours as to why Kate Spade chose to end her life and leave behind her young daughter to carry on the pain she left behind, but as I continue to find my place in this world as a person living with a mental illness I know that pain all too well. I can only hope that the millions of impressionable young girls who looked up to Kate and all those who deeply loved her will carry on her memory as the fun, bright, unique individual that she so boldly tried to emanate from both her mind and her heart.

Almost everything nowadays in my life has become a task of carefully calculating and methodically planning and executing it, including getting my haircut. In order to complete tasks such as this which require me to leave my home and access unfamiliar territory is done so with a vast amount of anxiety and anticipation. To try and ease some of my discomfort I aim to do these tasks on days that I will be least likely to run into someone I may know, even if it’s someone I haven’t seen in ten years. I also tend to only do such tasks at certain times of the day when again I figure I am less likely to run into someone I know. Keeping this in mind though trust me when I tell you that there are still several places you will never find me no matter what day of the week or time it is, including the local mall which I have not stepped foot inside of in more than two years.

It’s been quite a while since I got a haircut and I knew I needed one…badly. I have always kept my hair somewhat long and I’m pretty sure it’s from the trauma my mother caused me as a young child when she forced me to keep it short and often times during my early youth I was even seen sporting an unsightly bowl cut! But like every other task, simple or not, the planning and executing is an extremely paralyzing feat. The best part about my hair salon is that I can book my appointments online and don’t have the added anxiety of having to pick up the phone and talk to someone live which is at least one less thing to stress over!

So today was that day, the day I so carefully and methodically calculated (all last week) as the day I needed to get my haircut, and even executed the perfect time of day for me to do so as well. I knew my hair was lacking any lustre and thought maybe a new shorter hairstyle could liven it up; maybe the change would be good for me. Ya well as usual, I was sadly mistaken.

I have come to realize that my hair is somewhat of a security blanket, something that gives me comfort and ease, kinda like how Linus from the Peanuts comic strip feels as he totes around his blanket everywhere. It represents safety and something I so often find myself trying to hide behind. It is part of my identity and a part of my self-image that wasn’t so frayed. My hair was a part of me I welcomed compliments from as it distracted others from all of the many insecurities I have about myself, including everything that my hair surrounds.

It’s not my hairdresser’s fault at all, he was only doing what I asked of him, and I was confident in his ability to complete this undertaking smoothly, and he did so for all intents and purposes because I am now sporting a new, healthier, trendy and very summery hairdo and I know that it’s only hair which will eventually grow back. I also know that whether or not I believe it to be true, my hair doesn’t actually define who I am, but for now it has left me and my already agonizingly low self-esteem lying in a tangled up ball on the salon room’s floor waiting to be swept away together.

Every so often we get that rush of adrenaline inside that energizes us just enough to clean out our closets.  Whether it’s to get rid of items of clothing that we no longer wear, that no longer fit us or that are no longer in style can be very cathartic, all of which help make room for newer, more trendy articles of clothing.

Sometimes cleaning out our closet is simply a way to help declutter and re-organize some of life’s messes.  For me the thought of cleaning out my closet has been especially overwhelming and stressful.  Every day when I enter my closet I am met with these emotions as my closet has somehow become a metaphor of the chaos and disorder my life is in.

Living with three teenagers I know the true meaning of living in a continuous state of chaos and disorder, both of which cause me severe anxiety.  If you were to ask my kids the one thing I badger them about the most (okay, all the time) they would unanimously say it’s to clean up their rooms.  Ya I get it, they are teenagers (who happily enjoy living like pigs I might add) and for some reason they feel it’s their own space to do with as they please and maybe they are right, but I’m pretty damn sure they are wrong after all possession is nine-tenths of the law, right (and I’m rather certain they only own about one-tenth of their room)?!  Perhaps it’s their way of asserting their independence, or their individuality or possibly it’s how they show their defiance toward parental control, but for me it plain and simply expresses complete and utter unrest (and I guess none of them inherited my CONSTANT need for cleanliness and order, some may feel borders on obsession).

I know exactly what many people are thinking right now because I’ve heard it all before and I can tell you for certain that closing their doors so I can’t actually see the chaos and disorder is anything but helpful.  Remember, I suffer with a mental illness which constantly dumps unwanted thoughts and images in my head so no matter whether their doors are wide open or bolted shut, I know exactly what they look like and as I have said I have a very strong aversion toward chaos and disorder.

The anguish I feel concerning my kid’s chaotic and disorderly rooms and the rush of adrenaline that came over me while assisting my husband in cleaning out his own closet yesterday ultimately influenced my decision to finally conquer the chore of decluttering and re-organizing my own closet as well.  I know there is no proper etiquette when it comes to this sort of mission and to most people it’s really more time consuming rather than overwhelming and stressful, but for me this sort of commitment involved a huge emotional undertaking.

So why then if I feel so strongly against having any kind of chaos or disorder in my life would I not be up for such a task?  Well the long and the short of it is because all it did was leave me feeling sad, guilty, angry, frustrated and with an almost completely barren closet.  Yup I purged all right, all the way down to its core and at no time during the task or upon its completion did it leave me with even an ounce of happiness or satisfaction.  It’s been quite a while since I have really done a thorough cleaning of my closet and what I discovered was a great deal of pain (who knew that a closet could hold so much power?).

For most people who approach this task they only need to make two simple piles; one for the items they plan to give away and one for the items that they plan to keep.  Instead I found myself (metaphorically speaking) intertwined in four different piles which included the sad pile, the guilty pile, the angry pile and the frustrated pile.  I’m not going to go into any detail here as to what each of these piles truly represent individually for me but instead how they collectively as a whole make me feel and that clearly my illness has left me feeling completely and wholly empty, and now, sadly so too is my closet.

*From One Honest Parent to Another*

The other night my husband and I watched the series finale of one of my all-time favorite TV shows which completed its ninth and final season on Tuesday night.  He will probably kill me for writing this but by the end of the one hour episode we were both sobbing like babies! (This is as real as it gets).  We both felt the same raw emotions while watching the finale, we both felt the same likeness and parallels to our own family unit.

“The Middle” was a half hour weekly comedy which centered around a middle class family facing the day to day struggles of home life, work and raising three children.  Although it took place in “middle” America it could have just as easily taken place in my own backyard.  The three children were close in age to my own kids and faithful viewers like myself have watched them grow up before our eyes, tackling life’s ups and downs but always doing so with a quick-witted sense of humour.

If there is one word to describe the final episode of “The Middle” it would be ‘bittersweet’.  It perfectly wrapped up all of its loose ends of a family that so many of us can relate to, in both a funny and extremely touching way.  Week after week for nine seasons I looked forward to watching the unorthodox and heartwarming antics of the Heck family, but this week really struck a different chord with me.

Maybe it’s simply because it was the final episode (I’m sure they are deserving of a reboot in ten years just like so many other shows on TV this year), or maybe it was what the episode truly signified which was the end of an era.  It reminded me just how quickly time passes by when you become a parent.  We all know that we can never get back those precious moments or milestones we wish could stay frozen in time forever, but as the Patriarch of the ”Heck” family so candidly declares in this final episode to his TV wife who’s grieving the loss of time, “That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

As much as I can hear the sincerity behind his sensible words, my emotional state of mind is just too damn fragile right now to believe them.  Having depression constantly keeps me focused on my past.  I am forever yearning for those precious moments I wish could be kept frozen in time, you know the ones, like when you held out your hand and immediately felt the grasp of your toddler’s tiny, warm sticky fingers returning the gesture, or even when you first took off their training wheels on their bicycle and they rode off into the sunset, but always looked back longing for your approval.  My mental wellness depends on these images as I continue to struggle daily to find answers.

During the final episode of “The Middle” I watched as the Matriarch of the family tried hopelessly to keep her emotions intact while coming to grips with the next chapter of their lives, but to no avail she eventually breaks down.  This of course is where I went from a natural teary-eyed state of mind to complete and inconsolable sobbing.  When suffering with chronic anxiety as I do, I’m persistently being jolted into the opposing direction of my depression, which is relentlessly taking me deep into that next chapter, long before I am ready to finish the current one, therefore leaving me in a constant state of distress.

They say that the older we get the faster life passes us by, making us question the mystery as to where did the time go?  I myself cannot really tell you the answer to this question however, over the last couple of years I have wondered it many, many times as I try to face just how much our family dynamics have changed and continue to do so.  We are all beginning to move toward unfamiliar territory and in doing so we are learning how to support one another through trial and error while managing our new roles and identities together.

Through therapy I am beginning to embrace two very important tasks in order to help me cope with our new roles and identities by creating healthy boundaries and communicating my needs with loved ones.  Many of these next chapters in life can often lead a once healthy, happy individual into a very depressive or anxious state of mind which is why it is imperative for me right now to use these strategies as we turn the page once again, and for anyone else reading this that may be feeling apprehensive or vulnerable as they too turn to the next page just know that you are not alone.

Being open and honest about what you need from your loved ones is most definitely key as I have learned very recently.  As I try to look ahead to the next chapters I will continue to keep those precious memories in the forefront of my mind knowing that I have created and raised three capable, confident and resourceful human beings enabling them to fly into the world and start writing their own new and exciting chapters.  I will also do so with the belief that no matter what, they will always remember where they came from because “that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”