I'm Ready to Get Off This Ride

Today has been such a roller coaster of emotions. Depression, anger, sadness, guilt.

Taking care of Dad has been harder than I thought it would be. It has triggered some anxiety (which had been under control) and has made me doubt myself as a caretaker.

My depression has eased up for the most part since after Christmas, but today it came roaring back. I feel like I can't do this, can't care for Dad day after day and keep up with all that is needed. I even felt like I didn't want to do it anymore. Why did this have to happen? The unfairness of it all had me wanting to run away. I was already feeling guilty about stuff I didn't get done for work; how could I do it all?

Then the sadness started. It washed over me. I want to pursue my dreams, but I can't. There isn't time or resources. Why couldn't I go back in time to when it was just me and Sebastian living alone? The tears fell.

Then Dad called out, "Can anybody hear me? I have to go to the bathroom." My heart sank. How could I consider not doing this job? My Daddy needs me. It breaks my heart knowing he is living like this. He doesn't deserve it. That's the part that is really unfair. I felt guilty for my earlier selfishness.

I hate the way life is going right now. I know it will get better some day, but I wish it was better now.

My Diamonds, For the World to See

I'm not sure where to start, mostly because I'm not sure when it started.

All I know is, I haven't felt consistently happy in a long time. Now, I'm not sad all the time and I certainly have some very good days, but things have been a struggle for months at the very least; more likely years.

I have no motivation. I cry for no reason other than I feel sad. I feel like people don't like me-that I'm insignificant. I can't sleep at night and I don't want to get out of bed in the morning.

"Oh, what the hell," she says, "I just can't win for losin'," and she lays back down.

I feel like I'm not good at anything: blogging, my job, being a wife, you name it.

"Man, there's so many times I don't know what I'm doin', like I don't know now."

Then there's the worry. Worry that has turned into anxiety. I've always had a fear of dying, but it's gotten worse. What if I walk out the door and never come back? Will my husband know how I pay the bills? Will he know how to order the cat food? What about my cat-I would have abandoned him. Who would take care of my parents? Would my online friends ever know what happened to me? Would they notice? I worry about all the things I haven't gotten done when I haven't had the motivation to do them.

I don't just worry about myself. I worry about my parents, my husband, my dad's dog, and my cat. I'm afraid to leave the windows open on a nice day because I think my cat will fall asleep on the sill, lean against the screen, the screen will give way and he will fall out of the window, two stories up. This isn't a fleeting thought-the worry is persistant and I can't make it stop.

Last week I had a meltdown over a couple of small pieces of furniture my husband moved. It wasn't the fact that he moved things around, but the pieces being in different places made me feel...I don't know. Bad? Nervous? Anxious? None of those feelings make sense, but there was a negative feeling. I knew that day I couldn't keep going on like this.

And she says, "Ohhh, I can't take no more." Her tears like diamonds on the floor.

I made an appointment with my doctor. I was nervous about telling someone other than my husband what I had been dealing with. I was embarrassed and I felt weak. I certainly didn't want to be put on medication. I felt like if I was on medication, I wouldn't be myself, but then, the person I have been lately is not good, so why would I want to be me anymore? Medication became more of an option. What really convinced me though, was my husband's thoughts on medication. He told me to think of it like when a person needs an antibiotic. You're sick, you take medicine for a while, you get better, then you stop taking the med. Made sense to me!

My doctor was wonderful, as she has always been. I told her all the gory details, crying the whole time. She talked to me about normalcy of my emotions and assured me that I would get better. She put me on two meds: one to ease my depressed feelings and anxiety, plus a second to help me sleep and get back on a regular sleep schedule. She told me I would start feeling better in a week or two.

If she can find daylight, then she'll be all right, she'll be all right, just not tonight.

I hope that by opening up about this I can accomplish two things. First, I hope that it helps speed the healing process. I'm sure holding it in, trying to hide it and cover it up can't be good for me. Second, I hope I can help give someone else the courage needed to open up and get help if they are feeling scared, embarrassed, and weak like I was. The only way to erase the stigma associated with depression and anxiety is to come forward and be honest about it.

I would like to share something a twitter friend told me a few months ago that I hold onto: "Depression lies to you." Thank you Jenny "The Bloggess" Lawson. That is now my battle cry.

Not only do I have a battle cry, but I have a theme song for this battle. "Her Diamonds" by Rob Thomas gives me hope. Just like the lyric above from the song says, I know I'll be all right. Just not tonight.

Doubts

I have been having some serious doubts lately, mostly centered on my job. Could I really do the job? Was I just fooling myself? Did I make a mistake pursuing this line of work?

Then, I really got scared. I was called upon to do something I had never done before, something that two of my coworkers usually did instead. I had been exposed to this part of the job, but I was never responsible for a case myself. I got the call yesterday and a coworker, who knew I wasn't comfortable with the task and tried to find somebody else to do it, said, "You're it girl." The doubts were enormous, anxiety kicking in.

I panicked and texted yet another coworker and told her what I was about to do. She called within 5 minutes and said she would come and help me. The other coworker told me to call with any questions or concerns during the task. The other people I would be working with would be able to guide me.

I delayed as long as I could, then I made my way to the location of my task. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was incredibly tense. Once there, I realized that I would be doing a lot of standing around. My coworker arrived and I felt a great sense of relief. Soon, we got down to business.

As the day went on, there were numerous questions and phone calls, one coworker coaching from afar. I was constantly worried about what might happen, how I would handle one situation or another. My neck and shoulders were so tense, I couldn't turn my head to look at someone, instead I turned my entire upper body. Eventually, the day ended. I got through the task that had frightened me so much just a few hours earlier. Successfully. All those doubts? I suddenly felt silly for having them.

I know they'll come back, though. They always do.  And, as always, I'll realize that I have a wonderful team surrounding me, supporting me, teaching me. I'll keep going on this roller coaster of emotions until one day (hopefully) I'll understand that I'm in this place for a reason.

The Dress or My Journey to Becoming a Bride

Wedding dress shopping. One of the most exciting, happiest days of a girl's life, right? For a normal girl, maybe. Not for me. Don't get me wrong. I'm not ungrateful. I love my fiance. I agreed to all of this. That didn't keep me from feeling an impending sense of doom on the days leading up to the big shopping event. Let me explain.

First off, I hate being the center of attention. I'm extremely self-conscious and shy. The fact is, I felt like I was going to be on display while trying on dresses. And that would just be a hint of what was to come on the wedding day.

Next is the issue that I rarely wear anything other than jeans. I am a blue-jean and t-shirt girl. I am comfortable that way and don't like being dragged kicking and screaming out of my comfort zone. My requests when talking to the bridal consultant included the words "simple" and "not fussy". I actually fell in love with the idea of pockets on my wedding dress. A place to put my hands, just like I do when I'm wearing my jeans seemed very comforting. Sadly, the dress was not suited for me. I think everyone thought I was weird for wanting pockets on my wedding dress anyway.

Also, I am not very comfortable with my body. I know, big surprise, right? I'm a woman and so many of us have body-image issues. I've fought my weight my whole life. I was hoping to find a dress that would somehow hide all of my imperfections. Of course, those are impossible to hide when you're in a small dressing room, half-naked, with a stranger you just met twenty minutes ago. Just the thought of it still makes me cringe.

I had been trying to prepare for this day. I bought truckloads of bridal magazines and tore out pictures of gowns I liked. Being rather particular and detail oriented, I arranged them in order of favorite to least favorite. I wrote something on each page, whether it be a comment about the style, pointing out a detail I liked or something I did not want on my dress. I also spent many Friday evenings watching TLC's "Say Yes to the Dress" hoping for inspiration. I would watch these brides trying on gown after gown and seeing the big moment when they found their perfect dress. They would cry. Their family and friends would cry. They would hug their consultants. I, ever cynical, would roll my eyes and think "Whatever."

So, on Dress Day, after going over all the things I was looking for in a dress (ruching at the waist!) and all of the things I didn't want (NO BALL GOWNS!) the consultant selected several dresses for me to try on. All the girls with me knew how nervous I was and assured me it would be fantastic.

I tried on the first dress. It did not impress me, nor my entourage. In fact, I can't even remember what it looked like. Back to the dressing room I went.

Dress number two went on. The consultant zipped it up and we both knew it wasn't even worth walking out in. "It doesn't do enough for your waist," she said. Translation: I looked fat. Next!

Dress number three did wonders for my waist. I walked out and got positive feedback from the girls. It was a possibility, but more dresses waited for me in the dressing room!

I went back and stepped into dress number four. When it first went on, I kind of shrugged my shoulders and thought "eh." Then, the consultant started to lace up the corset back. Soon, she tightened the laces and I saw my waist shrink in. "Damn," I said. "Look at my waist!" I walked out to show my support team. We talked about this detail and that detail. Pictures were taken of the dress at every possible angle. We discussed white versus ivory. I focused on the bottom of the dress. My concern was with the train. It wasn't much, but it was more than I wanted. I won't have attendants helping me to corral the dress at the wedding, so I have to be able to handle it on my own. Plus, I have to walk up a spiral staircase to get to the ceremony location. The consultant said there was an easy fix to that problem. She began to pin up the back to show me what it would look like bustled. That's when I had something close to a bride's "this is my dress" moment. I didn't cry and I didn't hear music, but when I saw the back of the dress I knew that it was the one I was going to buy. That settled it. "I think I like this one," I said. All those dresses hanging in the dressing room would stay on the hangers. I was done!

As we all walked out of the store, all I could say was "I'm so glad this is over!" On the trip back home, my friend riding with me was ecstatic. She was so happy for me. I wish I had been just as happy for myself. I was relieved, not giddy. I was checking off an item from my to-do list, not falling in love with the garment that is supposed to make me feel like a bride.

I still have moments of impending doom. Did I try on enough dresses? Would any dress I put on make me cry? Will it be altered correctly? What if I lose too much weight before the wedding? I think of all the things that could possibly go wrong concerning this overpriced piece of fabric that makes me a bride. What gets me through is knowing that I will only be a bride for a very brief period of time, then it will be over.

Then I'll be a wife. Uh-oh.