Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Wrecking Myself... Still not checking myself...

Have you seen that ^ guy's serious face?
Stupid blog.  Stupid Ice Cube.
                    (Oh... No, no, no. I'm super sorry about that Mr. Cube,  I didn't mean it.)

Stupid blog title.

I thought I would write a blog that showed the growth and progression of a woman with depression.  Over the years and months, I should have bee writing about treatments that were working, and how I had begun to feel better... about myself... about life... about everything...

What's my damn problem?  What's my stupid problem?  You see, I look so normal on the outside.  I'm strong and can be funny.  I am blessed, that even when I look like a complete wreck of a dump dog, I still look better than half the people in this town...  That's not conceited...  Trust me... Our town...

I am lucky I have healthy, wonderful, remarkable children and people who love me and care about me.  I am lucky.  So to admit I goddamn don't even want to be alive, when other people have so much less than I do. I'm lucky.  I'm alive.  I have life.  There are people who die tragically, who should be alive and wanted to live and would have done beautiful things in the world... and I'm this whiner, this complainer, I should suck it the fuck up and get my act together.  Get some fucking exercise.  Get some fresh air.  Talk about your problems.  Get a job and feel useful again.  Go play with your children, and appreciate them.  Get out of bed.  Stop crying about the past.  Stop hanging onto what is gone from you.  Get a fucking life.  You know how lucky you are?  You know how lucky you are?!

I do.  I know.  And I wish my brain could stop forgetting all of that and just do what it's supposed to do.  Or, I wish my body functioned properly... normally.   I'd like to be normal is all.  Is that too much to ask?

My Nanny Tops told me years ago, that I needed to get my blood tested over and over, regularly.  She remembered the miracle of being treated for hypothyroid disease, finally, and how she finally felt "normal" again, after she had entered her mid-thirties tired and worn out.

I haven't had my blood tested since the spring.  My thyroid antibodies and levels have not been tested.  I wrote about taking Nature Thyroid in September, trying it out, and feeling better.  And as you could see in my last few posts, I was not feeling better all over again... I had stopped taking it, because you're not supposed to take medications that aren't prescribed to you.

Yet taking 4-6 mg of Klonopin per day didn't seem to be doing much good for me either, you know?  It was prescribed to me.  When I took it, it might stop me from thinking too much, or dwelling.  Dr. A. said my brain nausea sounded like a panic attack.  That made sense, although I imagine attacks as coming in short bursts, and the brain nausea could last for as long as it wanted to... as long as it took for me to give up and drink some wine and take some sedatives...  And that was just a way to stop myself from thinking, wasn't it?  How do you escape your thoughts?  What if that's what wrecks us?

I started Nature Thyroid again, and I stopped taking Klonopin and I stopped drinking alcohol.  It's only been a few days, but I feel better.  Thoughts still rattle me, of course, but it's parts of my life, and my past that haunt me, not something pretend or imagined or hallucinated.  We have to face those things sometimes and not numb them away or try to run from them.  And I think I'm going to feel sad for the rest of my life.  I'll carry a sadness with me, and that can't be taken away or treated with drugs.  I have reasons to be sad.  I have to learn to accept that sadness, let it settle inside me, and not let it knock me over, again and again.

I feel better.  I feel better not taking Klonopin and not drinking.  Maybe it's the Nature Thyroid?  I'm taking half the dose my mom suggested, so maybe it's just placebo...  That's fine.  At least I know that trying to stop the sadness, led to something worse, and using crutches to hold myself up, or that special super glue that I thought I needed to hold me together, was making everything a whole lot worse.  It was wrecking me.  Wasn't it bound to?  Couldn't you have told me that?

You did.  You did.

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