Therapy used to be the bane of my existence. Now that I have the best therapist on the planet (for me) via BetterHelp, it’s not so bad. The whole thing revolves around my time schedule – which can be pretty chaotic – and finally finding (or being gifted by the universe?) a therapist who GETS ME is priceless.
That said, it doesn’t change my thoughts or feelings. It helps me to express them in a safer environment than any other, but the reality is that my kind of depression doesn’t ever really go away. It’s up and down, it doesn’t flip but it rises and falls. And with my mom? It’s basically a pit of hell.
I think the thing that brings me down the most is watching this all play out and not being able to do a damned thing about it. Dementia is like that. No matter what you do, it’s gonna progress. Maybe slowly, maybe quickly. Maybe meds help. They don’t if you’re fighting with the person to even take them.
Mostly, the whole situation makes me both miss AND respect my dad so much more. Sometimes I am so angry that he is gone. Most of the time time I’m just sad. Sad at a level that isn’t just melancholy or blue, but at a level that is a thunderstorm – dark clouds and pouring rain, raging winds and thunder in my head. Sad at a level that I can barely breathe through these days.
But here I am. That counts for something, I suppose. Even still, I feel so useless to everyone around me. I feel useless to my mom because she won’t LET me be useful to her. I feel useless to everyone else because, well, depression. I just stay in my room, and read. I cry but I don’t know why as it doesn’t really let anything out. I wish that someday I would be able to find the words to describe this experience just in case I make it past it and have an opportunity to help someone else.
I hope you all have a pleasant weekend. I appreciate your correspondences and your kindness more than you know. You help me more than you know.
All the love,
a thing needs to get lost,
never to be found again,
before I realize just how much
it really meant to me while I had it.
the sparkle in her eyes
when I’d tell her the secrets of my heart…
and the fire in them
when I’d tell her the pain in it.
I never expected to have a “her”
in my life.
I never expected “her”
to last twenty years…
Three years later,
three years since the end,
I’m more convinced than ever I
never will again.
Sometimes a thing,
like this one,
doesn’t get lost.
It is taken.
for what seems like no reason at all.
That pain never heals.
Whatever it is you’re going through right now I want you to know you aren’t alone. And it might feel like you are. It might feel like a million things are piling up on you and you don’t know if it’ll get heavier or how much more you can bear.
And you might not know who to turn to or even where to start.
Because suddenly all of this just hit you at once.
It’s like you’re floating on the surface but below no one can see you are flustered and kicking for your life just to stay afloat.
You look fine.
You smile when you have to.
When someone asks, “how you are?” you say, “good.”
But part of you wishes you weren’t so good at faking it. Part of you wishes someone would call your bluff and say, “I know you’re lying, what’s wrong?”
We’ve been told the best thing to do is lie. So we lie to ourselves saying everything is fine. We lie to everyone else saying we can handle it. Whatever that it is.
Then it just becomes too much.
I’m here to tell you it’s okay if things aren’t going well right now. It’s okay if you’re hurting. It’s okay if you want to fall apart and scream at the top of your lungs because things outside your control are happening that you don’t understand. You’re trying to find clarity in moments of confusion. You are trying to put a band-aid on the pain you’re repressing hoping it heals, but you know you’re just covering it up. Then something else comes out of left field only to hurt you more.
You go to bed at night and you’re just laying there not sleeping, and you don’t want to play the pity card of “why me?” or “why did this happen?” How much worse can things get, only to watch it play out even more?
You’re trying to piece yourself back together but you’re cutting your fingers in the process, and honestly, you don’t even remember what it feels like to be whole or completely happy.
You hate that being happy is so hard to achieve right now.
But more than that you hate that no one sees it.
You’re holding back tears and putting on a brave face because it isn’t socially acceptable to start crying in the middle of a workday. Not when people need you. Not when people look up to you. Not when people are watching your every move like your life is a show for their entertainment.
Just when something starts to shift and there’s even a little bit of light, someone has to come and ruin your day. It’s a snide comment. It’s criticism. It’s one little thing or conversation that almost puts you over the edge.
Like everyone in the universe is out to get you. And it isn’t like you to be this negative or pessimistic. But everyone has those days that turn to weeks and sometimes months where nothing seems to work in their favor.
Despite being given every reason to be mean to others and treat them the way they have treated you, you don’t. You replace their unkindness with silence. You replace disrespect with being the bigger person. You replace someone going after you with keeping your head down and mouth shut.
And they judge you for the things you do and they judge you for the things you don’t.
It’s like they have a target on your back, watching your every move waiting for you to mess up. So every step you take is a little more cautious. How quick everyone is to judge you for the little things you do wrong and they forget what you did right.
I know what it’s like to feel that way.
I know what it’s like to not understand any of it.
And you just keep trying. Trying to make them happy as well as yourself only to learn whichever way you change, someone isn’t going to like it.
You want to trust people but every time you have, every time you’ve let your guard down, they’ve gotten close enough to hurt you. So you learn to expect the worst of people, while still trying your best and giving your best to those who don’t deserve it.
Caring deeply about others is both your greatest strength and weakness.
It’s that strength that everyone seems to rely on, even though you don’t know where it’s even coming from.
It’s the energy to never let people down and constantly say “yes” even though you’re tired.
It’s the light you shine in other’s lives and the compassion to look at someone and you can tell when they’re having a tough day because you know what faking it looks like. You ask them how they are doing, even though no one has asked you lately.
It’s keeping it together when someone else is falling apart even when you want to, you still manage to be the arms holding them.
It’s admirable to be like that.
And even though people don’t give you the credit you deserve or even utter the words “thank you,” you keep being exactly how you are and you don’t change.
As hard as it is to be someone like you, you realize how rare it is too.
So when the world gives you every reason to change – every reason to treat others the way they treat you, every reason to hurt others because maybe someone broke your heart – you don’t. I want to thank you for being that type of person.
It’s people like you we need most in the world. So whatever pain or confusion or difficult life situations you’re going through, I want you to know you’ve made it through everything leading up to this and there’s strength within you, you don’t even realize.
Don’t be afraid to fall apart if you have to.
Don’t be afraid to cry if you need that.
Don’t be afraid of any of this.
Because it will get better. Sometimes though, things get worse before they get better. But on the other end of that is something really great waiting for you.
Keep fighting for everything you know you deserve because you will get it.
Yesterday was the worst day. I don’t know why, but life always seems to implode (or explode) with everything at once. Yesterday I battled with my own body and began to battle again with my mind and my thoughts. I laid down in the afternoon to nap and I missed a phone call from my mom.
About two hours later I was awakened by a phone call from the hospital. We rushed up there and were told that she had been wandering again (not so much wandering as making more poor decisions, having it in her head that it was a good idea to walk 3 miles to a store, which she has attempted to do several times since the beginning of this year). She has so far not fallen on these little escapades but this time she made it about two or so miles before she did fall.
I believe that she passed out because she refuses to eat properly and she’s also very weak and feeble to begin with, so I am not surprised. I have begged her not to do this, making that very argument and explaining how dangerous it really is. In fact, the last time, a neighbor picked her up around the same place she fell yesterday and she was walking IN THE MIDDLE OF A TWO LANE ROAD with curves and fast traffic.
I also believe that she hit the pavement so hard that she had to have knocked herself out because she hit the pavement hard enough to bust her chin all the way across and knock all of her teeth out of line as well as broke two teeth. She has a major swollen bruise on her temple and severely bruised ribs as well as scrapes and contusions on her hands, arms and legs. Today she looks like she lost a fight with Mike Tyson.
I’m not sure how long she laid there before she called me because, again, I don’t feel like anybody could take a blow like that without being knocked out for at least a short period of time, but eventually she tried to call me and I was asleep. #guilt Three people passed by to offer help – she refused help so the first two just drove on without even calling an ambulance, while the third person refused to move her and called an ambulance but then left before the ambulance arrived.
There was at least a 40 minute time frame between the time that she fell and the time that an ambulance arrived which means that she laid on the side of the road (possibly in the road for a period of time) for that long miraculously not getting hit, robbed or otherwise hurt.
This is the final straw for me and I can no longer accept the fight that I have been fighting for so long to prevent her from living alone. I will no longer allow – regardless of the fight to come with her – her to live alone. I will be raising hell with the doctor and I will sue on my own if I have to for guardianship. I have had DHR on my mother‘s case for over a year and two months and still have had no appointment with a lawyer – nothing.
The state is a waste of time and the American medical system is a waste of time. The doctor at the ER understood my concern and tried to find a way to hold my mother for at least 72 hours whether it be a psych eval or a need to be monitored physically but because she answered three or four questions correctly like “what is your name,” “what year is it,” and, “who is the president?” and because her vitals were good and her test results were negative for any breaks or internal damage, she could not be held against her will.
Now, go back and read this story again and tell me why, just because she says “I’m OK,” she could not be held. What kind of decision making and what kind of serious ridiculous danger does a person need to put themselves in – she is clearly a danger to herself and needs to be evaluated – yet there is no ability to hold her? She needs to be given the proper care and I do not have the power to make that happen because I have no legal power when it comes to my mother.
She refuses to offer me any leniency or cooperate with me and I am done with being put in the position of a doctor telling me “you need to take care of your mom” and me knowing I need to do certain things to take care of my mom, but yet being pushed away and out of the picture by my mom and the doctors – it’s a total cluster fuck and I am about to lose my mind.
If I thought I was losing my mind a year ago, well I had no idea how bad it could really get – and I know it’s only going to get worse.
Hello depression, extreme and uncontrollable anxiety and overwhelm. Welcome back.
It’s easy for people who don’t have major depression or a chemical depressive disorder to look objectively at a person’s life and point out all of the logical reasons why someone should not feel sad, angry, anxious, or any number of other emotions and emotional experiences that come with depression. But depression isn’t logical. Depression doesn’t care to reason, and certainly not to show mercy.
You can’t talk your way out of it, pray your way out of it, think your way out of it, spiritualize your way out of it… You can’t analyze, theorize, medicate, or meditate your way out of major depressive disorder. You can’t shop, travel, read, or even act your way out of it.
For those people reading this who are in my shoes, you get it. For those in my life who can’t grasp it, I’m sorry. I know that you can’t get it. I’m sorry that I’m sick. I’m sorry that I am not who you want me to be or who I want to be to/for you. For those reading this who don’t get it at all, I hope this helps your mindset.
Please try to remember that it’s a disorder, not a decision. You can’t fake your way through depression every day. You get tired. And when you get tired, and feeling especially tied up in the straightjacket of depression, you really don’t care who sees or doesn’t understand.
Then, you regret that, because they think it’s them. They try to make it about something it’s not, because you should know if you pray or get spiritual or meditate or walk outside or even “JUST TALK” TO THEM!! then you will suddenly be ok! Then, you REALLY hate being here. You REALLY feel misunderstood and unloved. You REALLY want a drink and you REALLY don’t wanna take your meds – because you just want to sleep.
You want to sleep forever. You can’t move. You don’t shower. You don’t even brush your teeth. All you manage to do is go ahead and swallow the pills and go ahead and feed your kid and fake your way through homeschool. So…
The cycle continues. Until one day you say, “f*** the cycle. F*** it. F*** other people. F*** how it looks. AGAIN. I’m going to just make it stop.
And then you don’t. AGAIN. Because of him, in my case. My son. Because you’re too filled with love. That’s right – people with depression still love. They still feel “positive” things. And most often, when they commit suicide, they do so because they love others and they truly believe that the world and their people are better off without them. I know that’s hard to understand. But, it’s the truth.
Why? Why do they think the world would be better off without them? Not because of depression itself. Because they’ve had to fight their depression alone, which is impossible. They believe they are a burden. They feel their depression is causing too many issues for other people.
They feel…. Unloved. Ignored. Unseen. Without worth to add anything good to the world. They don’t want to make the world a darker place because they love. But when they end their lives, and usually while they are still alive and it’s often what pushes them to the end, along with the depression itself, they are labeled with things like selfishness, negativity, cynicism, laziness, etc.
None of those things are true.
You can’t do it alone, and anyone who says they did or do or that you can is a liar. Even if it was influences from media that helped them (music, movies, speakers, writers. etc.), nobody survives depression alone – especially not the kind that wraps itself around you like a second skin and doesn’t let go, and can’t be peeled off, and hurts even to try to put clothes on and cover it for the day.
And that’s the only reason I’m still here.
I haven’t shared any of my music for a while, but, whelp, here’s a thing. Enjoy. All I can do right now is express the music (and the image edits) and that’s what this is. I may not have the words but I have the music. So far, I’ve always had the music.
The basis of this song is to end stigmas, to understand that those with mental illnesses need compassion and they need to be reached out to, not ignored or shunned or pushed away or further labeled, and saying goodbye to those labels.
There is some sort of problem with the video playing on mobile devices so if the video doesn’t work for you, you can listen to the song on SoundCloud as well as download it for free, for listening later.
I hope that YOU are doing well, and I hope that you get something out of this post that helps you better deal with or understand anyone in your life who struggles with depression.
All the love,
**This song was mixed with Auxy using samples from Fanton ’87’s “Pay Phone.”
On the rainy days, I struggle the most.
Rainy days are hard. I cry a lot on rainy days. I feel especially sad and lost on rainy days. I’m so tired. Tired of so much. Fake people. Nosy people. Lies. Loss. Sugar coating. Grief. Sadness. Tears. One bad thing, one hard thing, right after another. Never ending difficulty – physical, financial, emotional. No breaks. No relief. Just pain. Pain after pain after pain. And, ultimately, physically, no cure. No treatment. Just, “change your diet and you’ll feel better.” I won’t. I won’t feel better. Because changing my diet may bring relief to my body but I can’t imagine anything will ever bring true relief to my soul. Dead people don’t come back, and my soul will never not ache for her.
Random rainy day self-loathing. It’s a bad day. Sorry, guys. My grandmama taught me if you don’t have something nice to say don’t say anything at all. But, well, I just needed to say all of that. Sometimes it’s too much to hold the pain in. To pretend you’re strong. To smile in the face of adversity and pretend it doesn’t hurt. Some say rainy days are the most cleansing. Maybe this is how the rainy days cleanse me.
So, as I do on most ocassions when I can’t seem to get myself together, I went straight for my camera roll and reviewing/sorting my photography. As per usual, I came across things that soothed me. I came across things that moved me, that made me feel less wrong (is that even the right word?) for being so sad. I’m generally pretty hard on myself about sucking it up and putting on the big girl panties and just pushing through, but today…I just needed gentleness. I needed to give myself permission to be whatever it was I felt like being. My soul was aching, and I needed to let that out.
I want to believe there’s a message in the stars. I want to believe that’s where you are. A tiny little dot of ancient light in the sky…is that where you went when you died? ✌️
There are some days, like today, when it all swallows me whole. And, I let it. I don’t fight it – not because I’m not strong enough but just because it feels better to give in. I just sink into it, and let it suffocate me. I hypervenilate through the memories and the tears. I try not to replay the nightmare parts but I can’t think of her without those parts, because that’s when she depended on me the most, and that’s when I was the most present with her. I miss her. I miss her so much… But, I don’t miss her being sick. I miss her, and my Dad. I miss Scrappy. I miss other friends… And on days like today it’s not the loneliness that gets me. It’s the permanence of the lack of their presence. That’s what gets me. They’re never coming back. I’ll never hear from them, or be able to speak to them, again. At least not until I’m dead – and I really don’t know what I believe about that anymore…
“It’s February 8. It’s raining. It’s not quite 11 months since you left us. Some days it feels like it happened five minutes ago. Today, it feels like it happened a million years ago. I listen to your voicemails so I don’t forget your voice. “Hey! It’s me. Call me AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS. Love you bye.” Sometimes you give me a hint what’s going on. Mostly, you just say that it’s you and I should call you asap and you love me. Those are my favorite ones – those are the most “you” ones. I miss you so much.
There is literally not a day that passes that I don’t think of you. Some days it’s all day long, like today. Some days, it’s randomly… But it’s every day. I’ll never not think of you. The stupidest things bring you to me, like Harvey’s Baptist Church. Ha. Sadly, it’s not even there anymore. But when I pass by, I still remember that sign and that moment…not to mention all the things that happened on the way. I wish there were better words than “I miss you,” but I miss you. So much.
I’m supposed to be writing this to say the things I’d say to you if you were here. Honestly, I wouldn’t say anything if you were here. I’d just hold you. I’d hold you really tight, and I’d just be quiet. If you were here I’d smile, and I’d just be near you, and I’d feel the warmth of your humanity and your presence, and I’d just be quiet and appreciate the gift of your existence, and that I got to have it mingle with my own. If you were here, I wouldn’t cry as much. I wouldn’t worry as much. I wouldn’t be as afraid. I don’t know why. I just know that those things are true.
What can I really write right now? I really fucking miss you. Some poetry, huh? I’m sorry I’m not more poetic now that you’re dead. It’s like…there’s really not any point. There’s simulatenously so much anger and so much sadness in me. I don’t KNOW how to express any of it most of the time – especially on these rainy days.
I love you, DB. For always…”
This little video clip is probably the most depressing yet cathartic thing I have ever posted. It won’t be to most anyone who watches it, but it is to me. It really does help me to write it out, to create things that either express or move my broken heart…
Many times, people tell me to stop. I can’t – I won’t – because it’s just what feels right for me. Never let anyone tell you to stop talking about them, stop bringing them up, let them go, get over it, or any of the things they may say to interfere with your grief. It’s YOURS. Your grief is your friend. No matter how long it’s been, you’re going to find yourself in moments of deep, excruciating grief, because that’s the reality of losing someone you love.
You’re going to have days where you miss them more than you ever have, or perhaps ever thought you could. Nobody will ever understand, because nobody had the relationship that you had with the one you’ve lost. So you go ahead and do what you’ve gotta do, sweetheart. You go ahead and shed those tears and you go ahead and grieve. You go ahead and feel that emptiness in your soul. And don’t you ever forget that that hole inside of your soul now that they’re gone is worth every second, every breath, every laugh, every smile, every tear, and every memory that ever made them a part of your soul while they were here.
You are not alone. 🙏🏼💙❤️
And with that I bid adieu to you, friends. May tomorrow be better for us all…
Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can. -Arthur Ashe
That’s all I can do, at this point.
Today I walked my mom to her mailbox with my grandmother’s walking cane. It was iffy. I was terrified. It was very strange to feel the same “fear” for her safety as I often feel for my son’s when I’m the “responsible adult in the room.” It’s very disorienting to have such a very clear role reversal. It’s been semi- like this for a while now, but at this point we have crossed that line very definitely. It’s no longer a sort of blurry line or a dotted line. It’s a very solid line and we have very realistically crossed it.
Tomorrow I have a meeting with the home health nurse about getting PT out a couple of times a week and having a social worker assigned to the case to help me to make sure I have access to all the resources I need. My mother is gone. As tumultuous as our relationship has always been, I’m still really sad inside, which was unexpected. I don’t know who this woman is. Neither does she.
I saw a side to my mom when my dad died that I’d never seen – I saw an independent, capable woman emerge, brave and strong and extremely adept. Within months I saw that woman begin to fade away. In the last year I have witnessed (and fought against) the slow decline that has led to this sudden, extreme decline we have been facing over the last month. And the only thing I can say with truth and with compassion is that for her sake, not my own, I hope that dementia is a swift journey for her, like cancer was for Dorie. Because even when you have very little of a good past with a person, this is a very difficult thing to witness.
It is hard with Granny Dot. With my mom…it’s beyond that. Maybe it’s because it’s not just compassion, but the nitty gritty caregiving I am responsible for with her. I don’t know. I never really liked my mother (because she wasn’t and never has been “my mother,” though I suppose I’ve always loved her, if that makes sense) until now – and it’s because now I’m seeing the mother I always hoped she would become…and I’m seeing that mother, in me…