letting go...

I'm taking a mindfulness course designed to help me to recognize my emotions and the causes for them.  In theory, by doing this, I'll be more in tune with my body and be able to stop a depression decline before it's too late, without medication.  I love theories.
Lately I've realized that I am recognizing my body's reaction to certain situations, namely the incredible tensing that occurs with stress or unpleasant encounters.  I've got that portion down pat.  The next step is more difficult.  I'm supposed to acknowledge my reaction and emotion and let it go or rather let it be.  This sounds way more simple than it actually is.
There are times I succeed, and perhaps after years of practice I will be able to do this without a struggle.  Then there are the times, when a part of me doesn't want to let it go or let it be.  Is it wrong to want to hold onto to and savor the anger and frustration a little?  It is so much easier to feel dread and distaste when I've already prepared my body and mind for them.  If I truly let it go, I am opening myself up to, admittedly, the possibility that my next encounter will be positive and devoid of these feelings, but I am also leaving myself vulnerable to the next attack.  There are certain people in my life who rarely let me down in this regard.  Every encounter leaves me tense and angry, sometimes sobbing.  Can I acknowledge, forgive and let go even though the next encounter could be bad enough to open the rabbit hole's door?
On the other hand, if I don't, am I setting us up for continued strained relations?

Everything needs a little rain

Somehow, watching the rain fall yet again and the grass becoming a shocking shade of green, I feel at ease for the first time in a while.  Perhaps this is aided by a general sense of calm that I have been able to nurture over the past few days.  I love having the ability to go to therapy and meditation!  Even though I am still moody and have cried more than "normal" lately, I am now officially drug-free and am out and about.
The weather and nature's response had brought a new perspective on my own life.  If the clouds can cry, why shouldn't I? If the grass responds by thriving and growing, does it not reason that I too will grow and thrive from having these experiences?
Today my mantra goes something like this:
If everyday must be a struggle, then let me learn to fight well.
For the better equip myself, the better I will fight.  And the better I fight (and more I fight) the stronger I will become.  Watch out world, a superwoman is being formed.

sad, mad, ...... bad?

I have good days and bad days like all moms out there.  It just happens to be that my bad days can be very sad or very mad days.  Before I was diagnosed and even for a few months after, I felt awful for those days.  I felt like sad or mad = bad.  After all, how can a good mommy cry at the drop of a hat (or milk, or toy, or bowl...)?  Or yell when things went wrong rather than calmly explaining why it is not okay to dump figurines in the fish bowl.  I beat myself up for these outbursts and apologized profusely to my children and my husband.
It wasn't until my therapist repeatedly told me that I was not a bad mom that it sank in.  I may be a sad mom and/or a mad mom, but this does not make me a bad mom.  If a total stranger can see that I love my children and if my children can accept my apologies and tell me that it's okay, everyone gets mad sometimes, how could i continue to blame myself for my emotions?

So whether you are feeling glad, or sad, or mad, please don't feel that makes you bad.

Faulty perception

I've found recently as I wean myself from sertraline that I am oversensitive and my perception is skewed.  I wonder if this is a commonality shared by all those who are or have been depressed.  As I battle a cold, weaning of meds and a pregnancy I've felt as though I am being bombarded with blame.  As if everything that goes wrong, or even slightly strays from the planned path, is my fault.  Is it?  No, probably not.  Do they blame me?  Realistically, probably not, however I have been the pillar of organization and strength in my family in the past.  Any lack of either falls on my shoulders, even when clearly out of my control.
Do you ever hear things like, "I guess I'll just have to cancel my appointment since you scheduled that activity then."  Is this blaming me?  In my current mind - absolutely.  I should have been aware of this schedule change approaching, though it was not ever made known to me and should have protested when we decided together to schedule the activity because of the knowledge of the other schedule change yet to come.  Make sense?  This confusing dialogue resulted in a total breakdown and a lingering feeling of hurt and blame.  I am failing at my job as mother, wife and organizer by having scheduled two events at the same time (though with spousal input) and have thus rendered my spouse incapable of attending his much loved event that just changed days this week.  Damn.  I could really use a crystal ball at this point to avoid screwing up things I couldn't possibly have known about.
Another such instance (also this week) was my decision (joint) to rent a movie and have a family movie night.  I had the audacity to do this with my spouses input when my spouse had forgotten to mention a co-worker's evening party.  Again, I really should have known that his co-worker was taking prelims. I should have called this person and asked if anything was planned so that I wouldn't again double schedule us.  Then, I should have called my husband to remind him to come home from said party when he was 5 minutes late, 10 minutes late, eventually over an hour late, rendering our movie overdue and our evening severely soured.  Again, totally my fault.  I am the time keeper and scheduler in the family.  I should have known that time would get away from my husband and been calling him... or would that have been nagging, leaving me in an even worse predicament?
These instances have been occurring in an increasing rate in my household.  Though each grips me with fear, blame and an intensity that leaves my sobbing, after examination they appear to be unavoidable unfortunate events.  Add the perception that comes with depression and they are all my fault.

down the rabbit hole

Have you ever felt lost, alone, inadequate?  Thank you for being honest.  Me too.  In fact, these feelings built up over the years and I joined the throngs of those depressed and medicated.  Oh, and I'm in therapy too.  Scared yet?
Oddly all of these things are fairly normal for Americans, though we daren't speak of such things aloud. After all, there is still a stigma remaining for those who seek help - of any sort.  I finally chose to accept that I cannot "fix" my life on my own.  One does not choose to become depressed, just as one cannot choose to leave depression.  It is a condition that needs to be acknowledged and then slowly removed.  I wonder, though, if it will ever truly be gone...
My descent was extremely gradual - so much so that I didn't even realize it was occurring until my life was impacted by my condition.  I became moody and sad.  Not like the commercials, where a gray haze envelops life and the dog sighs to show that someone is clearly not in her right mind.  No, life was still colorful, even wonderful at times.  I just cried more, was easily agitated and mildly fatigued.
These small clues were ignored by both myself and my loved ones.  We entered into a new state of normalcy where mommy might break down crying for no reason at all.  Just wait a few minutes and she'll be better again.  Then my body began more troubling signals.  Incoming - plug your nose.
Did you ever associate gas with depression?  I certainly didn't.  In fact, I spent nearly 2 months trying to adjust my diet to figure out why I had suddenly become so gassy.  It was awful.  So bad in fact, that this last straw drove me to the doctor.  I went expecting to walk out with a prescription, but not this one and not a diagnosis...
After explaining my symptoms and assumptions, my doctor smiled, handed me a quiz, nodded and declared with no hesitation that I was moderately to severely depressed.  I should take medication and life would be better soon.  Don't worry, it's not your fault - anyone in your life situation could succumb to depression...
My life situation?  Was she serious?  Since when did having kids and a job equal inevitable depression?  I could think of at least 10 moms who had a busier life than I did, a more stressful life - who were not depressed to my knowledge.  So what exactly was I to discern from this?  I agreed to medication.  After all, if it would stop the gas, I was for it, but was skeptical about the diagnosis.
It wasn't until I nearly crashed on the way home after stopping at a red light and for reasons I'll never understand, then proceeding through the busy intersection.  I had almost gone all the way through before I realized the honks were for me.  Bring on the waterworks, big time.  We're talking sobs, shaking shoulders, the works.
I was depressed.  I am depressed.  Let the journey begin.