Skip to main content

Cleaning House vs. Dusting

I do not choose to live like this.  Much like my asthma, I have been dealing with depression and anxiety since my 20's.  Most times I am very productive--some times I need medication and help.  This is one of those times and it is not a choice, a joke, a ruse, a "bad day/week/month", 

I am lucky though. I have an accepting family and a couple of good friends who work hard to understand or who often feel the same things as I do and  wonder what makes the difference between them and me.  I can have real conversations with them and have invited them to read this as it might help with understanding what this is like.

We all come to depression through different paths. Some people I have met have had a long time battle with substance abuse and are depressed because of the loss of family, friends and jobs.  Others are depressed because of a single incident --some tragic occurrence--like the loss of a loved one--- that has rocked them to their core and some people feel like life just got too loud and overwhelming and they need to shut it all out...

The common theme I hear though is:"I just want the old me back."

That is not me. 

My therapist often tells me that the old me had some fantastic traits that allowed me to preserve in tough times, helped me move into a leadership position at my new career and raise two kids. In fact, the last few years at work had resulted in an "outstanding" performance review due to how I had managed change, improved processes, managed capital projects all during a time of senior management shuffles retirements and a steady stream of people exiting the organization.  My boss had never given an outstanding review --in his life---to anyone.  I pride myself at being organized, able to multi-task, proactive, hardworking, flexible, a mentor, coach, leader, motivator and creative problem solver.  These traits help me be a good mom too!

Sounds like it might not be a bad thing to go back to...

But it came at a cost. I try to have everything completely in control at all time to manage.  If anything happens that is outside of the parameters of what I expect, the loss of control is crippling.  A birthday party my son wants to attend, a flare up in my asthma, car needing service, a dentist appointment. unexpected meeting, having to return a phone call to my insurance company-- these things cause so much anxiety and stress it is hard to describe.  If my son had a birthday party at 2:00PM on a Saturday--then in my mind--Saturday is a write off --stress and worry before and during and a bit after is all consuming and I am unable to think of, much less do anything else.  What if I get lost on the way there are we are late? What if my son has something with peanuts in it? (he carries epi pens). We should get a gift, but what if he has one?  Is a gift card in a card not right--it has to be the right thing? (I usually shop for the right gift for days--right card--right wrapping paper--then pick up a gift card at the last minute because I couldn't find the right thing.)  Should I stay at the party to watch my son? What if no other parents stay? What if my son gets teased  because I stay? What should I say to the parents--what will we talk about? 

You can image my stress level at trying to control a birthday party environment---I actually could not attend my son's bowling party this year as it was too overwhelming. That was about 3 days before I was hospitalized.

A quote by Wayne Dyer is helpful to read...over and over....

"It makes no sense to worry about things you have no control over because there's nothing you can do about them, and why worry about things you do control?  The activity of worrying keeps you immobilized."

This is not a fun way to live.  The way I was came at too high a cost.  But I don't yet know who I can be without those things---or how to not be overwhelmed by them.

Frustrating.








Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Shame is A Full-Contact Emotion (Brené Brown)

It is a cool outside this morning and I have on my fluffy red robe as I sit outside and watch the birds flit back and forth from the fence to the feeder----arrogantly tossing aside imperfect sunflower seeds to get to the good ones.   The discarded seeds, some empty, some full, punctuate my deck, waiting for the squirrels, who will later claim this easy buffet. I am still reading Brené and The Gifts of Imperfection. Feels a bit like learning a new language ---I see the words---I hear the words---but the meaning is so diffuse...I need to read and reread and sometimes, even read out loud to make the words stick It is hard work.    And while the smooth cover of her book lies balanced on my palm, seemingly weightless, many of the concepts have a density that knocks me flat on my ass ---like a large medicine ball. CATCH THIS ONE!   Oooooooof!   I am down.    Eyes wide, trying to catch my breath, wrestling with the weight of hefty concepts like shame, authenticity, wholeh

Asking for Help

My oldest son walked into the kitchen last night while I was drying the pot I had just used to make marshmallow squares.  He leaned against the wall, eyes downcast, unfocused and spoke in a soft voice: "Mom.  Tomorrow.  Just so you know.  Something has happened and I cannot remember a SINGLE thing about ANY of the stuff that will be on the exam.  So.  Just so you aren't expecting anything.  I am going to fail the exam.  Probably need summer school.  Will have to quit my job.  Will get my university offer rescinded. But it is probably too late for summer school so.  It is just all over." I put down the pot and gave him a hug.  (no hug back) I told him it was fine. He was fine. He remembered stuff--he had an 87 going into the exam! You can't have marks like that if you don't remember stuff?! Right? I could see the tears forming in his eyes.  He still wouldn't look at me. "Ok.  Get your jacket we are going for a walk.  Your brain is in overload a

Being Enough

I am grateful that the chapters in The Gifts of Imperfection are short.  Each one overflows with concepts that ask you to reach down to your very core and dig around a bit with a sharp object.  Sometimes you have to pull back and take a break.  Like at the dentist...when you have to put your hand up...they let you close your mouth for a minute....you stretch your jaw....rinse maybe.  "You ok to continue?" You lie back, take a breath, try to get comfortable, open up, look at the outline of the hand holding the drill backlit by that horrible light...and nod. Not to say it is all bad.  But this chapter on Exploring the Power of Love, Belonging, and Being Enough made me uncomfortable in my skin.  I squinted a lot.  Really, really trying to get at what she was saying without having to feel what she is saying....which is not the purpose.  So I had to read the chapter a few times.  Then I fiddled around on Facebook and Outlook to avoid starting this post. She starts out