Well, that last post was, um, heavy. Thanks for all your emails and what nots. You all are as sweet as can be.
And until I post again, I leave you with this picture that basically restores my soul every time I look at it. Look at this boy. Look at all I have. Things are gonna be great.
A while ago I started getting a familiar (but highly unwelcome) feeling — a feeling that I couldn’t shake no matter what I did.
For me, depression has always felt…heavy. You know those aprons they put on you at the dentist’s office when you get X-rays? It’s like wearing an entire coat made of that stuff. A coat you can’t take off. Pair that with a constant undercurrent of anxiety, and you end up with quite a mess.
Currently, I am that mess.
I’ve dealt with depression off and on since 2004. Back then it was severe enough to go on medication. I got off the medication about two years later and managed to control things fairly well through exercise and behavioral changes. When I went off the medication, my doctor told me that there was a chance I’d have to go back on it at some point in my life; depression isn’t something that really just goes away, and certain life circumstances can cause symptoms to “flare up” if you will.
When he said that to me, I nodded and said I understood. But I was convinced that I had gotten this thing under control and he would not be seeing me again (at least not for this issue).
Well. My doctor and I had a little visit yesterday. Ok, a long visit. A long visit in which I cried a lot and said things like…
“I can’t shake this off.”
“My son deserves a mother who isn’t checked out emotionally.”
and the clincher…
“I feel like I cannot take one more step without some help.”
So last night I got a new prescription filled. And to be honest, I was bummed.
No. I was pissed off.
I’m pissed off that for whatever reason, I can’t just snap out of these things. I’m pissed off that there’s something wrong with my body chemistry that sometimes prevents me from being the best version of myself. And I’m pissed off at myself for waiting so long to address the problem this time.
The plan is to keep the dosage very low for a while. I go back in a month to see how things are going. Overall, we’re hoping that I’ll just need to be on this prescription for about 6 months. By then, I should be at a point where I’ll be ready to turn to other options, like exercise, to help control this. (I would love to have been able to make exercise work this time, but when you can barely convince yourself to leave the house or talk to the people you love, you’re not exactly itching to go out for a run.)
Despite the frustration I felt yesterday, today I’m feeling better. It feels good to recognize that something is off and to do something about. It feels good to take care of myself.
I don’t know why I feel the need to share such a personal thing in this space, but here we are. Maybe because I know a lot of you can relate? Maybe because I know a lot of you are going through the same thing and need to feel like you aren’t the only one? Whatever it is, I’m thankful that you’re listening.
JR,
Next month you will be 2 1/2 which is FAR too close to 3, so let’s just not talk about it.
Moving on.
We’re about two months into our new adventure of me being home with you most of the week. I’m more exhausted than I’ve ever been in my life but so much less stressed out. I feel like I’m giving myself the space to be the mother I want to be. Sure we’re a bit strapped financially because I’m working less, but I know I will never, ever regret this time with you. As Tina Fey (this writer/actress that I have a girl-crush on…you’ll know what that is one day) said, ““What’s so great about work anyway? Work won’t visit you when you’re old. Work won’t drive you to get a mammogram and take you out after for soup.” That quote pretty much articulates where I am at this point.
The only tricky part about our new routine is that when you go into school on Wednesday mornings (you’re in school Wednesdays and Thursdays so I can go into the church office and work and so you’ll be all nice and socialized) we’re starting to see some more tears than usual. So I’ve made a point each evening to talk about what we’ll be doing the next day and chatting with you about in the morning as well. The nights before you go to daycare, we pick out your “school clothes” to kind of set you up for what’s going to happen the next day — that seems to help a lot. But honestly, I’m not too worried about it. Typically after the first few tears fall, Miss Ashley (your amazing teacher) asks you if you want to go feed Batman (the class fish) and you’re all “Mama who? I have stuff to do.”
***
You are now considered one of the “big boys” in your class — back when you started in November you were the youngest one in there. Apparently you and the other “big boys” like to play “football” during outside time. I’m told “football” involves one of you catching the ball, followed by the other “big boys” chasing you around while everyone screams and laughs and then falls down. Sounds about right.
***
I won’t go into too much detail here, but we are *thisclose* to embarking upon full-on potty training. I’ll be honest in saying that the only reason we’ve waited this long is that I have no problem changing diapers. What I DO have a problem with (at least now) is PAYING for diapers. I think we’ll go full force with it in a couple weeks. I’m excited and terrified because I have no idea what I’m doing. However, I’m sure, as with most major milestones in your life, you’ll just roll with it and be fine.
***
You’re such a big helper these days — and it seems that nothing pleases you more than to hear us say that you did a good job. You love to put things in the trash can, toss the napkins and dish rags in the hamper, and get a diaper out of the drawer before I change you. I only hope I can continue to encourage this behavior.
***
Books are still the biggest joy in your life (and the concept of a library continues to blow your mind). I’ve noticed that lately, you’ve been gravitating towards ones involving the phrase “I love you” or ones featuring a parent talking about how much they love their child. You want to read them over and over and over and over again — hearing “I love you” just seems to make you so happy. I think that fact, combined with how well you respond to praise, shows that verbal affirmations are going to be a big part of making you feel safe, secure, and loved. With all the talking you do, I’m not a bit surprised. On the same token, you seem to understand how “I love you” makes other people feel. When you can see that I’m tired or frustrated, you’ll come up to me and say “I love you” or “It’s ok, Mama.” You’re such an in-tune little guy, and that makes me so proud.
***
Last night you were having a very hard time falling asleep. Bedtime is always a bit more dramatic when I’m the one putting you down and quite the seamless affair when your dad is in charge; probably because I’m more likely to go back in a cuddle you when you cry. Yes, when it comes to you calling out for cuddles, I am a total chump, but here’s why: I figure I’ve got maybe (MAYBE) three more years of you actually *wanting* me to scratch your back and rub your head as you settle in for the night. I’m going to take what I can get.
Anyway, last night was particularly challenging for whatever reason, and at one point (after your dad and I each made several trips back into your room to try to calm you down), I heard you call out (in that pitiful, gaspy cry that you only have when you’re legitimately upset), “I…wah-wah-wanna si-si-sing in the rah-rah-rocking chaiiiiiiiiiir.”
Until you got your big boy bed right after Christmas, you and I used to sing in your rocking chair every night. Since you’re no longer in a crib, we’re able to cuddle up while we read books, so it hadn’t even crossed my mind that you might miss it. It hadn’t crossed my mind that *I* missed it until I heard you say it.
I scooped you up, wrapped you in a blanket, and settled us in. The thing that really surprised me was that you didn’t want to sit up in the chair; you wanted to be cradled and snuggled tight. I was so happy to oblige. And as I sang some of your favorite songs to you, your sweet little face — now showing that heartbreaking mixture of baby and boy — looking up at me, I shed a tear or two.
Oh, little man. The things you do to my heart.
Love,
Mama
So JR’s teacher does this thing where at the start of the day she has the kids “turn on their ears.” They all hold their chubby little toddler fingers up to their ears and say “Beep beep beep!” Should one of the kids act out a bit or ignore an instruction, her first course of action is to ask him if his ears are on. I think this is genius; it’s such a nice alternative to saying “Are you listening to me?” 18,000 times a day.
After seeing her do this, I decided we would try it at home. Two great things have happened as a result:
1) JR listens better. We are all generally less frustrated and I feel less like a nagging wench.
2) In the event that JR *doesn’t* listen, leading to us disciplining him and him inevitably crying over getting a time out, 9 times out of 10, he will shout desperately through his tears “I WANNA LISTEN WITH MY EARS BEEP BEEP BEEP.”
It’s pretty much the most adorable thing ever.
