Two Weeks In-Am I Getting Better Yet?

I've been on the prescribed antidepressant for a full two weeks now. I've noticed a slight improvement, but have had several rough days. My hubby said I have to be patient, that it's too soon to expect much. I know he's right, but geez, I'm so anxious to finally feel better.

The improvement has come in a surprising place-food. I haven't been satisfied by anything that I have eaten in a while. Food doesn't taste good and my appetite has been out of whack. I will eat a meal, usually not finishing it, and go looking for something else shortly afterward. I end up eating crackers or chips because that's the only thing that sounds decent. Not to mention the effort of cooking and cleaning up is just not something I feel like I can tackle most days. About a week into taking the meds I cooked a meal for myself...and it was good! I really enjoyed it. Then it just kept happening, the food I was eating tasted good on a consistent basis.

I'm hoping this will help me drop some weight, too. Maybe now I will eat regular meals and stop looking for something to eat throughout the day.

I can't wait for the day to come where I'm feeling good all day long. I know it's a process and I'm just glad that I've seen a glimmer of what's to come.

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.

Letting Go of a Dream

For many years, I longed to have a career in federal law enforcement, but today, on my 36th birthday, I am letting go of that dream.

I remember the first time I realized I wanted to be in federal law enforcement. I was in grad school, pursuing my Master's degree in Criminal Justice, planning to go to law school once I graduated. Then, in April of 2000, I watched the video of INS agents removing Elian Gonzalez from his relatives' home. That was the first real seed that was planted. That was when I gained some direction. I wanted to be an INS agent.

After graduating with my Master's degree, I applied for many different jobs in different branches of federal law enforcement. Each one was a long process. I tested for at least four different positions. I began to get frustrated with the process. A state law enforcement job presented itself and I applied, thinking that it would be the last law enforcement job I would apply for. If I didn't get the job, I decided I would go to pharmacy school instead.

As luck would have it, the state hired me. I went through the law enforcement academy then, three weeks before graduation, I got a call for an interview for a federal law enforcement position in Dallas, TX. After much consideration, I decided that I wanted to give the job I had a fair shot and I passed on the interview, thinking that I had an opportunity to gain some experience before applying with the feds again later on.

At the time, I was 33 years old. To be eligible for a federal law enforcement position, you have to be hired before your 37th birthday. I figured I had plenty of time.

Time came and went and I was enjoying my job as a state law enforcement agent. I was tempted many times to apply with the feds, but I never did. I can't tell you how much time I spent looking at job descriptions and thinking about attending the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center. I looked at the life my best friend had as a federal employee and was once again tempted. I still did not apply.

Last week I attended a training session at which an FBI agent spoke. She showed pictures of the countries she had visited as part of her job and I once again felt that familiar tug. "I still have time," I thought. "I still have a year to go after this." Later, I told my husband about her and he could sense what I was thinking. "Is that what you want to do?" he asked. I thought for a second and responded, "It was once, but it isn't now." I realized in that moment, that if I was going to leave the job that I have now (which, by the way, allows me incredible flexibility and freedom) I was going to do so for a different dream.

I felt a little sad as I realized I was letting a dream die. But it is the right thing to do. I need to focus on other dreams, things I am actually more passionate about. So today is the day that I let go of a dream.

Back to BlogPaws!

I can't believe that BlogPaws 2011 is this week! It seemed so far away back in January when I registered and POOF here it is! I got so much out of BlogPaws West last year that motivated me to improve my pet related blog (which is why this blog has been so neglected!).

I came away from the conference feeling like I could change the world. Of course, that feeling comes and goes at times. After being with a shelter cat as he was euthanized due to his multiple health issues, I felt like I was completely helpless. Next thing I know, I'm featuring a different shelter pet every week on the blog and guess what? They're each getting adopted! My motivation was back!

Unfortunately, life gets in the way sometimes. My job can be quite demanding at times and it limits my time to blog and network. Then there are the times when work is a bit more routine and I have more time to think about my passion.

I'm taking time off work to attend the upcoming BlogPaws conference in Washington, D.C. It's the least I can do for myself! Sometimes you have to focus on what you love and that's what I'm doing this week. I know it will be worth the time and money it is taking to attend. Maybe I'll even learn enough to get myself a sponsor to next year's conference!

My Boy Oscar

Three years ago today I lost my beautiful borzoi, Oscar, to cancer. Thinking about it still makes me cry. My heart broke every day for three weeks, from the day we got the diagnosis until the day I helped him go to the Rainbow Bridge. It feels just as raw today.

Oscar was not the first dog I had to have put down. My childhood dog, Crystal, had to be put down, but she was different. She was old and had a good, long life. It was sad, but not unexpected. Oscar was only 8 years old and I felt like cancer robbed him of many more good years-it certainly robbed me of them.

I watched him hobble around those three weeks, knowing what was coming. I spent many cold evenings sitting on the garage floor with him, because he didn't like to come inside. He got extra treats and tons of hugs. I even ordered a special dinner at a Mexican restaurant one night, knowing I would take half of it home to him.

I sat on the floor with him at the vet's office on Halloween day, 2007 while he passed on. The vet assured me that I was right, it was time. He had declined dramatically in those three weeks. I hope he's running in the fields at the Rainbow Bridge today, strong and brave, watching over me.

In his memory, I had a portrait painted last year by my wonderful friend BZTAT. It hangs in my dining room, where I can see it from the kitchen and living room. Seeing his smile on my wall every day makes me happy. It was some of the best money I ever spent. BZTAT also put together this wonderful video, "Love That Never Grows Old", which I am honored to say, contains Oscar's portrait (look for him around the 00:58 mark). It makes me feel good that other people are able to see his regal face, even if they don't know our story.

I love you Oscar dog. There will never be another like you. I'm glad we had that time together.

The last picture I took of Oscar.

R.I.P. Ariel Marie

Ariel Marie is now at the Rainbow Bridge.

She was at the shelter where I volunteer for just a short while. I can't tell you why exactly, but I fell in love with her. I never had the chance to pet her as she hadn't gotten her blood work done to be tested for various diseases and I didn't want to risk exposing my kitty at home to anything. She was always a little crabby and it took her a while to begin eating after being left there.

She was in the room called the "Kitty Den", a place not open to the public. She wasn't officially up for adoption because she was being boarded. Her family had lost their home and was not able to keep her. The shelter took her in with the understanding that after some time, she may be put up for adoption. Unfortunately, that wasn't able to happen.

When I went to the shelter this past week, I asked another volunteer about her and if she had been adopted. That's when I got the sad news. Apparently, Ariel Marie had quit eating and upon examination, she had many sores in her mouth that weren't healing. This reminded me of my kitty in Wichita who passed away in June. He had the same symptoms before he went to the Rainbow Bridge. In fact, that may be part of why I instantly took a liking to Ms. Ariel Marie. She bore a slight resemblance to my Rosie boy.

Rest well, Ariel Marie. I hope you and Rosie met at the bridge and are chasing bugs together until I am able to meet you there.