Take me out to the ball game...

Just imagine, we have at least ten minutes of this:

Reliving ages 2 and 5: The teacup opera, the eye...THE EYE, and actually soccer

More happy Mom scenes

Earlier today I got hoodwinked into buying four new books for the girls. The setup: the temperature is probably close to 90, I'm still brain dead from the trazodone (hah! no more of that stuff! I think I'm finally feeling free of its brain numbing stranglehold some 24 hours after taking it), I'm tired and just want to go with the flow. In other words, prime victim material.

Girl 1, very hopeful (she knows a softy when she sees one): Can you buy me a chapter book? I really like chapter books.
Me (thinking): Its important to encourage reading. One should be fine.
Me, talking: Okay, I'll get each of you one chapter book (its important to attempt fairness).
Girl 1: Thanks, Mom!

I sit on the bench and zone out while I hear all these exclamations of: Look at this one! I think I want this one! What if you get that one and I get this one.

Girl 2: Can I get two books?
Me, weakeing: Well, I'll buy you one chapter book and you can pay for the other one with your allowance money.

My mom calls and we chat. I look over at the girls, they are holding six books three of which are the same.

Me: Uh, Mom, I think I have to go. I'll call you back (oops, I forgot about that).
Me: How come you have so many books? And how come those books are the same - I'm not buying two of the same book, you can share them! (hah, maybe not a victim after all! It not like I just bought them six pairs of jeans full of embroidered flowers and sequins after swearing two days before that they had more than enough clothes for school.)
Girl 1 realizes that maybe Mom is not such a softy as she appeared and puts back two of the three identical books.
Girl 2, holding three books: I can't decide which ones to get. (Here's an example. Its enough to make one want to retch, I mean reach into your pocketbook).
Me, staring foggily into space: Hnh?
Girl2: I just don't know which one I like.
Me: I'm only buying one and you're buying the other one!
Girls 1 and 2: We know, Mom! (They're already doing the eye rolling).

So I bought them four new books. Maybe they'll give me the money from their allowance. But its so worth it!

Big plans

Last weekend, the kids had big plans. The boy was bored and decided to resuscitate some old plans to build a platform up in one of our trees (our trees are too small for a full-on tree house). He appeared upstairs.

Me: Where are your sisters?
Boy: They're having a meeting.
Me: A meeting?
Boy, smirking: Yeah, they [and by they I'm sure I know which one he meant] decided they needed to have a meeting to make plans for building the tree fort.

They are so my daughters (a mother couldn't be more proud)! Here's the plan they made up:



Tree fort
paint and primer
blue
string
tape measure
wood
(plus diagram)

Apparently, one of the little photographers documented some of the building, although I don't think the project is actually finished.

Some words about depression

Deciding that maybe I was depressed, and then reading stories by people who have suffered depressive episodes has been terribly enlightening and comforting. The way they describe how they feel, how they react to the world and how the world reacts back resonates so strongly with my life and my experiences. Its nice to know that its not just me, that there are ways of dealing, and that a lot of it you just have to accept and get through. That I’m not wrong – that I feel sad and awful because of how I am made and not because I’m wrong, or bad, or faulty, or because I have chosen not to be happy or that I have chosen to be full of angst. I was trying to compile a list of links to online resources, but I keep crying when I read them so maybe hubby will compile something for me. In the meantime, I do have a link to a list of things to say and not to say to someone who is depressed, which may be useful for you in dealing with me – a lot of these really hit the mark. There are also some books that we have gotten – again, I can’t read them because they make me too sad, but others of you may find them interesting: Malignant Sadness: The Anatomy of Depression, by Lewis Wolpert (a cell biologist); The Noonday Demon:An Atlas of Depression, by Andrew Solomon (one of my friends said that this book was kind of scary); and The Cognitive Behavioral Workbook for Depression: A step-by-step program, by William Knaus and Albert Ellis. I think I only have a mild form as I don’t usually have the can’t-get-out-of-bed problem, but a lot of the other stuff seems to be very applicable. The NIMH also has some information.

On the very positive side, we were doing an inventory of depressive symptoms in the workbook and you can really see how well the therapy has been working. There are a whole slew of symptoms that are centered around low self-esteem, a sense of worthlessness, and feelings that its wrong to feel so sad, that I remember having and don’t have anymore. This is a lot of work from hubby and the therapist. It really cuts the sadness and low feelings in half, as I have not only the feelings of sadness, but also feelings of guilt and self-loathing that I feel so sad when I really shouldn’t. Accepting that my feelings are valid no matter what they are, that I have a right to feel what I feel, has been tremendous for me. Its so important to know that I am not wrong to feel what I feel. Its what I feel, and that’s okay. Its not the same way others experience life, but it turns out to be very similar to the way other people who suffer from depression experience life. It allows me to accept myself and be okay with myself. Sadness happens. Sometimes for a logical reason, sometimes for no reason at all, and that’s okay, I just have to ride it out. You just have to stay balanced on your board and ride the wave.

Another positive note, there are a series of issues related to distorted negative impressions of reality which I realized I harbored many years ago (I kind of think this is due to my Mother – thanks!), and I have worked long and hard (and successfully, I think) to rid myself of. And that’s even before I read anything about its relationship to depression, or self-identified as being depressed. Go me!

I think that classifying myself as depressive is good – it helps me figure out how to deal with the world, and to understand how to mitigate the negative impacts on my life. Also to accept that sadness is going to happen, to recognize these periods of sadness when they do happen, and to do all that I can to keep the length of these periods to a minimum. I hope that those of you in my family can also accept that this is just the way I am, that there is no cure, no fixing, nothing that can be done permanently to make me happy. That attempts at fixing only make things worse for me. That its no one’s fault, and to just accept who I am. I know its hard, but its like religion, you just have to accept.

Where have my babies gone?

Hubby was editing old video footage of the twins, looking for a segment for a seminar. I had forgotten how cute the little girls were! The little voices! The big eyes! The funny logic! Below is a clip when the girls were about two (although really, only one of them is talking).

Insomnia continued

Here I am at 2am again. Hello 2am! I guess the sleeping pills didn't work. The nurse practitioner gave me trazodone, which is both a sleep-aid and a mild antidepressant. I was a little skeptical of this prescription, however, after I told her how I sometimes use benadryl to help me sleep and that my insomnia can be related to allergies so its a double bonus, and she told me that benadryl is not that effective against allergies. If that were really true how come the hospitals pump you full of benadryl if you come in with an allergic reaction? Plus I know from the inside, as the guinea pig, that benadryl works so much better for me than claritin, and I would just use it all the time if it weren't for that pesky drowsy side-effect. This trazodone stuff makes my eyes want to close, and part of my head feel heavy, but the bulk of my brain is still wide awake. Drats.

Highs and lows

Well, I made it through Sunday. The High Points: I got stuff done.

1. Found the box with the prescription number for the albuterol we desperately need in this allergen saturated house.
2. Made breakfast and coffee.
3. Helped hubby sort through the kitchen crap piles and found some important and useful documents.
4. Sent a networking email – hopefully he can dig up a contact for me to talk to.
5. Tidied AND cleaned the bathroom, sorted and started laundry, cleaned my room and did my handwash.
6. Grilled tritip for dinner.

Not a bad list, and much better than what I’ve been doing lately. It helps that I’ve finally realized that if I fill my day with activity, no matter how tired I am, it leaves little room for thinking and mulling and the inevitable crying. Which leads me to The Low Points:

1. Unfortunately, mulling and crying still happened.
2. I didn’t exercise
3. I ate like a pig
4. Despite the fact that I was not obsessing about anything specific when the lights went out, I still couldn’t sleep. Which is why I’m writing this, now, at 1:30 in the morning (this post is post posted, as it were).

Since the great disappointment from the postponing of the Philippines trip to next year (ha! I find it even less likely my Mom will want to go next year, what with two new babies in the family), I’d started building a vacation fantasy revolving around me and hubby and a tropical getaway. It started with Cabo San Lucas, until my Mom broke that bubble by telling me the water would be cold. So then it became Playa del Carmen or Belize. Then we finally looked at our finances today and saw that there really is not enough money for such a trip. Even though it would just be plane fare and food since the parents were going to give us their timeshare. This month has really been a hard one for disappointments and the dashing of dreams. Maybe I’ll just go to Hawaii by myself. It sounds kind of scary and pretty lonely, but at least I’d get the tropical beach thing and it would be cheaper than if hubby and I went together, and we wouldn’t need to find someone to watch the kids. Or maybe I will get a new, better paying job before the end of the year and hubby and I can do a splurge celebration vacation between the old and the new jobs.

And now I have insomnia again. I think I’m going to go to the doctor this week and get sleeping pills. This isn’t healthy and I’m sure its contributing to the fatness.

My little photographers

The kids have taken over the camera. I love what they choose to photograph (see the highlights below. I especially like the inclusion of feet in the last image). Maybe later I will make a movie of the boy's collection of mailbox photos, which is surprisingly extensive and yet very artisitic.

Superheroes

I was going through our pictures and found this one where the kids look like a gang of superheroes a la X-men or Superfriends - tough, sassy and cool!

Something is right, anyway

You know you must be doing something right when your nine-year-old son has turned into someone you really enjoy hanging out with. Not when he's foreshadowing the sarcastic teen (which he can do), but when you're tired and resting in your bed websurfing, and he quietly appears at your feet, or perched on the pillow next to you. I think its the calmness and assuredness of his demeanor while he chats about what's currently on his mind - where he biked to, what video game he is playing, how much he misses his one-and-a-half year-old cousin, what are the implications of infinite space, or why there is so much death both in the real world and in the fictional one. There's thought and logic there and its no longer this desperate need of a baby for his parent (hug me, feed me, fight my battles for me, explain the world to me) but a more companionable exchange of "here are my thoughts, what are yours?" He makes me proud.

Dreaming of the beach

I’m looking forward to next week. It’s the kids last week of summer and I’m taking off from work to be with them. I thought we would do some projects together – the girls want to do a sewing project and the boy wants to help with the water garden/water feature project. But now I’m torn between spending the week at home and driving back down to my parents. I really like the idea of being a stay-at-beach Mom.

A brand new adventure

I think I’m going to take a business class. Pros – good networking opportunity, maybe I’ll even learn something. Cons – a lot of business is just common sense so I worry I will get bored listening to the 80% stuff that is already evident to me and miss the 20% really useful stuff, and I will have to be in the big, bad city until 9:30/10:00 at night. Its tough being small and vulnerable. Stay tuned for more in this latest adventure.

How do I let go?

I’ve been waking up mad, lately. I keep reliving different episodes in the company show – mostly scenes with AG where either I felt he wasn’t listening, didn’t believe what I did say or that I had any background work to justify my statements even if I told him my reasoning. Even though time has proven me right. Because my thoughts and ideas are not pulled out of my ass but are based on things I’ve read, conversations I’ve had, stuff I’ve processed and he seems not to believe anything he hasn’t learned himself. At least I know that it’s not just me – several other people have told me how difficult it is to work with AG.

But I need to let go. I feel like a five-year-old saying “that’s not fair!” which exacerbates the problem. Why can’t I let go?

One good smell: crushed mint leaves

One good taste: petite vanilla scones

One good sight: my son’s face first thing in the morning, still kind of sleepy and a little anxious

One good sound: sounds of the ocean (I’m looking for sounds to go with my blog)

One good tactile sensation: well, that would probably get my blog flagged for inappropriate content, but let’s just say that it was, uh, good

Deep breath in…slow, soft breath out. Gentle.

Hubby has been reading about cognitive behavioral therapy and has been springing different exercises on me. I really like this one – it works. But the problem with all these different exercises, mindfulness practices, meditations, etc. is that you have to want to do them, and when I’m feeling really down I don’t want to. That’s why it’s so helpful to have hubby in on it. He catches me unawares, mid-rant, and then ten minutes later I’m distracted and not as down.

The exercise is very poetic! Maybe that's why I find poetry so appealing - its therapeutic.

Swimming to the surface

I just realized what's different between this blog and my previous blog. My previous blog started out when I was in a good place and spiraled down. The postings petered out and stopped altogether when I started hitting the bottom - I'm pretty sure you could call that place I went depression. This one, however, finds me at what I hope is the bottom of a very shallow ledge (still on the coastal shelf, to continue the ocean metaphor I'm stuck on right now). The past year has been really, really turbulent, and what I'm hoping is that this blog will chronicle the swim back up. Or at least some sort of treading action. Not sinking action. I fervently hope.

Know when to fold 'em

Today, I finally broke up with my company. It was something I should have done a long, long time ago, but was only goaded into doing because I was already in crying-all-the-time-for-no-reason mode (for the previous three days), and AG decided to have some sort of showdown. It’s really for the best and everyone (well, hubby and my mother) has been telling me so. The unfortunate part is that I do like AG as a friend, but he is impossible to work with – everything is an “either you're right and I’m wrong, or you're wrong and I’m right.” There is no room for two rights, which is mostly a problem when I say something and he chooses to interpret it as an insult, and then he has to retaliate with an insult back. It takes a lot of energy to deal with on a good day, and on bad days it’s impossible and only makes the downward spiral worse. Today was a bad day.

Now if only I can break up with my therapist. But I don’t really want to do that – she’s good and hubby thinks she’s helpful. I oscillate about the usefulness – I sometimes worry that all this emphasis on how I feel about things keeps my brain in this sort of constant assessment mode. How do I feel about oatmeal for breakfast? How do I feel about doing some experiments today? How do I feel about the laundry? How do I feel about my marriage? How do I feel about taking a shower? I used to be like this all the time and would wallow in anxiety and indecision, trying to calculate which option would be the most optimal. It took much introspection and riding through some pretty low points before I realized I had to turn that part off and just do. I really liked that person who just did, and I became happy that way. A lot of things in life you don’t get a choice about, so it’s pointless to have an opinion or feeling about them. Its like running – you need to run through the part where your brain says to stop and then just keep on going until the time you’ve allotted is done. Then you feel good. Okay, maybe it’s not really like running, but I like running and it makes me feel good to have done it, and I like getting things done, even if sometimes the doing is a slog.

Back to breaking up with my company (which isn’t really a company, anyway, thanks to the efforts of AG) and how I knew I should have done it a long time ago. I was thinking of an analogy about it earlier today and wanted to make sure I got it written down so I could remember it. The situation is a lot like poker – I never know when to fold, and always stay in longer than I should because I’m optimistic that my card will turn up in the River. It’s really like the song says – “you gotta know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away, know when to run…”

Welcome

Welcome to my new blog! I was inspired by a friend to get back into the blogging thing, and it really feels right. I just hope I can keep up the posts!

Enjoy!