Medicine

I’m one of those people that hates medicine. I have a hard time even committing to taking chewable vitamins. But now that I have seen the difference medication can make for depression, I cannot deny the power of medicine. Sometimes, it simply works wonders.

I stopped taking my medicine towards the beginning of the year because I lost health insurance due to not making enough money. Go figure… After a few months, I realized how desperately I needed it and got back on for a while. When the prescription had to be refilled, I forgot how bad it had gotten so I tried to go without it again. I’ve made it over 6 months without my depression medication, but lately it has been really hard. Every night is like fighting for my life. I’m struggling to breathe again. I find myself sliding into the darkness, and there is nothing to grip to save me from falling.

I know I’ve survived worse than this, but now that I know what it’s like to feel normal. I don’t want to be depressed again. It’s time to get back on medication, and this time, for good.

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Normal

Feeling normal is amazing.

Okay… Back story…

I spent most of my life believing that I was a horrible person. It was not just that I thought I was not good enough. I literally believed that I was bad. And I thought that there was nothing that could be done about it. I believed that I could not do good, but… I also could not stop myself from trying to do good.

I cannot help but see people’s needs and wants and desires. Even when they don’t want people to see or are trying to hide how they feel, I see it anyway. And I can’t help wanting to help them. I can’t help wanting to make people feel good about themselves or the world or life. And once upon a time, I believed this was a horrible trait.

I saw myself as unwanted, unlovable, and annoying. Why would anyone want someone like that to do something good for them? But I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop myself from trying to do good things for others. I tried everything to keep myself from trying to help people, but it was a piece of myself that wouldn’t die. So I tried to kill myself, over and over.

And then one day… It finally clicked… It finally got into my head that I was not a bad person. It finally made sense that I was better than I ever dreamed I could be. I had worth. I had value. People wanted me around. And I actually mattered and made a difference for good in the world.

Anyway, the reason I’m writing this post is because it is amazing how much less you stress when you realize it’s all okay. I remember driving down the road and stressing so much about everything. I would analyze every word I said and every word said back to me. I would have conversations with people that I never had in real life because I decided they would not go well if I actually tried to talk to that person.

And I know that normalcy is a fallacy that we tell ourselves is achievable to anyone but ourselves, but… feeling normal is amazing… Especially with friends. I absolutely love having a best friend. It makes me feel so normal- not weird, not flawed, not unlovable. I feel whole. And just remembering that, remembering I have a friend is totally freeing. It makes me feel like life is the best thing ever.

So now I worry that I’ll be the overly thankful friend that frightens people away because I’m so excited by these feelings that I can’t help but be grateful. And I still worry that I’ll be too much or not enough. But… Those moments when it feels normal to just be myself are the most amazing feelings ever.

Special Occasions

I am not too fond of most special occasions. I do not enjoy dressing up, I struggle with noises and crowds, and I find it hard to make small talk. Yet, I find myself going to almost every wedding reception, party, or other event to which I am invited. I have even traveled as much as 8 hours in one day just to attend an event for a few minutes.

It may seem strange to most people that I would dedicate so much time to one event, but it’s important to me that my friends know I value what is important to them. A wedding reception is not my version of a good time, but I know that I would want to see my friends at my wedding reception, so I go to every reception I can reasonably attend.

For many years, I have vehemently expressed my distaste for birthdays. I do not have many fond memories of birthdays, and I always struggle to find joy in the days leading up to my birthday. Despite all of this, I have always felt that birthdays are extremely special and even sacred events. A day set aside to celebrate the existence of someone has to have special meaning and value.

So, as hard as it is, I continue to go to special events, travel to see friends on special occasions, and try to get through the things that are hard for me because if it’s important to my friends, it’s important to me.

Talking about special occasions, today is my 7 year anniversary of starting this blog!

What You See

I bought a house a couple months ago. My mom cosigned on it, but I am planning on paying for it myself through renters and such. It feels somewhat strange to buy such a large house at 28 years old. My neighbors are all much older than me and my sister (who lives with me). Plus, they are all married, and most have children.

The thing is though, we all only see what is on the surface. I look at my neighbors and see people who are at a totally different point in their lives than I am. They probably look at me and think the same thing. Some people may even be jealous of me. People tell me that they weren’t even considering buying a house at my age. Others look at my house and tell me how lucky I am to have this place. I do feel very fortunate to have this house and for the lot I have been given in life, but there are definitely things I long for in my life.

It is easy to look at my life on Facebook and think that I have things pretty good. I have a house that is now fully furnished. I have a decent job that pays my bills. I have a college degree and am well on my way towards a second degree. I am doing well physically and mentally and even emotionally most of the time. But, you don’t see all the other things that have happened in the midst of all this. You don’t see that shortly after I bought the house, I had to fix the heater, then my car, and then the garage door, and I will eventually have to replace a damaged sprinkler pipe. You also may not know that I used money from a car accident settlement to make the down payment, and you don’t see that I have been searching for a new job because I haven’t been given enough hours at work to pay my bills now. But the biggest thing that no one ever sees is the longing in my heart for something more.

I know that I am incredibly lucky and blessed to have my family and friends and my new house, but… I really want someone to share it with. I have my sister here, which definitely helps, but I would love to have a husband and children. I wouldn’t mind living in a rundown trailer if it meant having a family of my own.

We all have something we long for. Some people long for stability while others long for adventure. Some long for riches while others would give away their riches for true love. No life is perfect, no matter how much it may seem to be so on social media. We all long for something. Just remember that what you see is just the surface of someone’s life, and you can miss the beauty of your life by constantly comparing to the surface of someone else’s.

Voices of Special Needs Blog Hop

Welcome to Voices of Special Needs Blog Hop — a monthly gathering of posts from special needs bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Mommy Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about having a special needs kiddo — from Sensory Processing Disorder to ADHD, from Autism to Dyslexia! Want to join in on next month’s Voices of Special Needs Hop? Click here!

Friendship is Complicated

Friendship is complicated. There is so much more to relationships than what is on the surface. I have never had a close, lasting relationship with zero conflict. I think that surviving conflict is what builds relationships, but I do love the ease of my friendships that do not have conflict. They are simple, easy to understand, and take little work on my part, but these relationships are mostly superficial. You can spend time with a friend and have fun, but it is staying after the fun is over, when you are not feeling well or are going through difficulties, that friendship really starts to mean more.

I did not have many friends growing up. My first friendships as a young child did not survive their first conflict. I look back now and think of how I could have handled the situation better, how I could have salvaged my friendships, but at the time I had no real experience in handling conflict. I did not know how to talk through feelings and emotions. So, at age 8, I decided to try to make my first friends on my own. I knew every trouble maker and loner at the school. These were my friends because they seemed to have just as many troubles as I did. When we weren’t sitting on the benches, we were the outcasts that no one else would talk to. Looking back now, I wonder if I failed to do my homework on purpose because it was too hard to brave the large playground full of children on my own. Making friends is easier now than it was then, but it can be easy to feel like a little girl again on a playground that is far too large for me.

The other thing that can be difficult is learning to manage conflict with the friends I do have. Indecisiveness makes me anxious, which can be a problem when my best friends do not like to make decisions. They tend to be people pleasers that want to make sure everyone is comfortable with whatever is decided. I would rather go along with a less favorable choice than spend half an hour trying to decide on something that everyone agrees on. Sometimes my anxiety gets the better of me, and I become frustrated and push people away. This causes a whole new level of conflict because my friends don’t understand why I am responding in this way.

Friendship is complicated, and we don’t always know what to do to solve conflicts. As I grow to trust others more, I have learned to simply ask about things I do not understand. I have learned to ask for reassurance when I do not know how a recent conflict has affected a relationship. I have learned to ask what I can do better and how I can make things right with someone. They say it takes courage to apologize to someone, but not apologizing is so much harder for me. I need to know my status with someone, even if it is negative, I just need to know what to expect from them. I think that it must get tiring for my friends to constantly deal with my questions and insecurities, but I am so grateful that they are patient with my shortcomings because friendship really is complicated for me.

Grief is Love

Sometimes you have to tell a story to get it out of you. I’ve been watching a lot of movies lately. It seems like everything hits me harder now that he’s gone. I see these movies and just think of everything that has happened in the last few months.

I remember waking up that morning like any other morning. I had slept in a bit, which was not unusual for me at that time. I went downstairs and my little niece looked at me and said, “Mommy is sad. The baby won’t wake up.” I went to my brother’s room and my sister-in-law went past me, crying, “he won’t wake up… I don’t know what to do.” My brother was in the room trying to do CPR on his little body. I asked what they had tried to do, gave some suggestions, nothing of substance. I don’t think it was really real for me at that point.

The police arrived a few minutes later. I went to keep the children away from the situation while the parents talked to the police and paramedics and firemen and anyone else who came. After a while, I took the children into their room and asked them to pray for their brother. My brother and sister-in-law went to the hospital. He wasn’t responsive at that point, but he wasn’t gone yet. We still had a glimmer of hope that he would survive, that he would come back, that he would be okay.

I remember the call… “He’s gone…” My little nephew was in the middle of a bite of pizza when I explained that his baby brother would not be coming back and that we had to go to the hospital to see him one last time. This amazing little 5 year old just started crying and didn’t want to finish his food, but we did. We finished our little lunch and headed to the hospital to say our goodbyes. I tried to get everything ready. I threw a bunch of candy and snacks in my bag to help console the children while we waited to see the lifeless body of my less than 2 month old nephew.

When we arrived at the hospital, we waited outside with the children’s other aunt, and my aunt also came after a few minutes. As we sat and ate candy while waiting for everything to be ready for the children to come in, I knew the younger two might never understand. This didn’t seem to mean much to them, other than that the adults and their older brother were sad. They were still fighting over toys and wanting their treats. Even after we went in, my three year old niece was playing with the doctor’s face as he explained what would happen next. It was somewhat frustrating, but also comforting, to know that she wasn’t experiencing the grief the rest of us felt.

When it was my turn to hold my sweet nephew for the last time, the reality struck me that he was really gone. I had known he wasn’t going to come back or get better, but feeling his cold skin made my heart stop for a second. I would never hold him again in this life. I would never stroke his head as he slept in my lap or hold him as he looked with wide eyes around the room. This was goodbye.

The strange thing about faith is that it never really leaves, but sometimes you are not exactly sure what it means. Would I get to see him again? Would everything be okay? What would this mean for my family? I felt broken, but my faith told me that this was not the end. I believe that he is in heaven. I believe I will see him again. I believe that everything will be okay. I just do not know when that will happen. I do not know when I will be okay again.

Everything moved on. I still had classes that week. I still went to work. I still turned in homework assignments and helped around the house and did what was required, but something was missing. I lost a part of me that day that I do not think I will ever get back in this life. I broke that Friday. He passed away on Sunday and by Friday, I had tried so hard to be strong that I knew I needed help. I texted a few people I thought might be free, but by the time they responded, I was sliding quickly into severe depression. When none of them were available, I gave up and went to my room to cry. I have never cried so hard in my life. One person, who I hardly knew, insisted on coming over and sat in my room with me until I finished crying. That was the most desperate I have ever felt, and nothing has ever made me feel so hollow as crying for the loss of that little boy.

Since then, things have been hard. Most days are normal and everything goes on like before this happened, but other days, I feel the loss like it was just this morning. You can’t run from pain. You can’t escape death. No matter how far away you go or what you do, there are some things that just won’t leave your head. That’s what this has been. It’s a never ending stream of grief that is always there, though I notice it less sometimes than others.

But… there is also great hope. In the midst of the despair, there is faith and hope and love- pure, undaunted love that will not go away. I keep seeing this quote, “Grief is just love with no place to go.” That is what grief feels like to me. The love that was there for little Gabriel cannot go into him so it goes everywhere else instead. It goes into me and comes out in tears and hugs and long, drawn out conversations. The love fills the room where I sit down to write a letter or tell someone my thoughts. It spills out in lessons I teach in church where a few dozen women gather to talk about faith in God. And it is still there when I’m running transactions at the bank where I work or going grocery shopping or eating in a restaurant. Grief feels like love constantly spilling out of you in endless streams of emotion that make everything beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time.

Love.

I thought I understood what that meant over the last few years. When I gained a best friend, when I forgave someone who abused me as a child, when my heart felt healed, when I felt joy after helping someone, I thought I understood love. All these things over the past few years have been love, but losing someone has given love a whole new meaning. Love is everywhere, in everything, in everyone, and when you lose someone, that love either leaves you or becomes you.  You either push the love outside of you or you let it flow into you. For me, love is like the emotion that won’t let go. It is ever present. It is me, and I am love, because losing someone took everything away and gave it all back wrapped in beautiful, tear-jerking, never-ending love.

It Would Be Easy to Disappear

I moved to a new state about a month ago. It was a decision that was both sudden and a long time coming. I love the atmosphere here. It is a rural town with everything I need within a 5 minute drive from my place, but I can also drive for hours and see nothing but livestock and country. I live with one of my best friends and just a couple of minutes away from my other best friend, which is great, but it makes it tempting to disappear.

I dislike trying to make new friends. I have never been very good at it. People do not usually like me right away. I am intimidating. Even my best friends found me intimidating when they first met me. I do not tend to make good first impressions. And living with one of my friends makes it easy to not feel like I need others. Emotionally, I am an extrovert. I need people like I need to breathe. But I struggle when I have negative experiences with people.

Tonight was hard. I tried to go to an activity for my church group, but I could not find them at the park area where we were supposed to meet. I haven’t been there long enough to recognize faces in crowds, and there were a lot of other groups there tonight. I want to give up. I have friends. I live with a friend. Do I need to try to make more friends? Do I need to try to socialize here? Or can I just disappear? It would be easy to disappear.