I feel like my creativity is lobotomized little by little every day I'm at this job. Nothing is valued, nothing is rewarded, and barely any acknowledgment is given most days.

I just feel like asking, 'If you're going to constantly overrule my opinion and not allow me to do my job, why do you think you have any business employing me? How about you just find a nice vendor over craigslist and abuse them over and over until they drop you as a client?'

It is really, really hard to stay focused and on track when your mind is working against you. I'm not talking about willpower or fatigue. I'm talking a serious chemical imbalance.

I mentioned in an earlier post about how my biggest hurdles are my own emotions. That was only a half truth. I'm a big believer in positive thinking and making the best of situations; and if you can't do that, then just do what you need to do, power through it, and get it done. Then you can have a glass of wine and hope things go better tomorrow.

Sometimes I have the strength to do that and it all works out wonderfully.
Sometimes I skip everything and go right to the glass of wine.
Sometimes I forget that I have depression, and that's when I get into trouble.

Anyone who has been physically injured knows that you have limits. You don't push yourself to the edge again and again just to prove you can. The reward for that stupidity is only more injuries.

Depression is an injury working against your happiness, sanity, and any passion you have for anything.  If it's not acknowledged and treated it will only get worse. Like a physical injury, if you push and push, you will be damaged permanently.

But I like to forget about my depression. I like thinking of myself as a little badass who can do anything despite any obstacle. I hate having this disability, this plague that tries to kill anything good inside me. I hate being afraid that people won't understand or worse, won't care when I try to open up to them. I hate that this will be with me my whole life, and how it will affect those around me. How tired they're going to get by trying to help me fight a battle they don't even understand.  The worst is when I try to explain to someone that depression is just something I have to live with and do the best I can despite it; and I get told that I just have to 'let go of my depression;' or when someone takes this post I wrote and thinks it was just me talking about a pair of shoes.

At that point I want to believe these people. I want to believe that I'm just making a bigger deal out of my problem than what's really there. I want to believe that I can get rid of it by sheer willpower.  But I can't. I know better than that. Knowing that I have a weakness that I can't just 'will away' keeps me strong. Knowledge is power and all that, I guess.

But some people will believe it.

They'll believe it because DEPRESSION LIES

Depression lies and will continue lying, convincing you of the most evil and heartless things possible. I've found the only way to treat it is to think of it as an annoying 'Dark Passenger' as Dexter would put it. Acknowledge it's presence, and don't believe a word it says.  If life is going great and you think the Passenger is gone, it can be a real shock when you suddenly hear it's voice in your head again- don't get caught off guard.

I've been off my meds since Christmas. Obviously they are a pretty important part of my ongoing treatment, and being off them for this long has had some pretty nasty side effects. But finally, finally I got a month's supply and I felt better. Knowing your brain is going to become chemically balanced in another day or two is a really nice light at the end of the tunnel.

Hopefully by next Monday I won't be battling my Passenger as hard as I have been, and I can get back to fighting for the things that the Passenger tried to take away from me. Things I'm passionate about.

And even if the Passenger is screaming in my ear--telling me I'm no good at these things, that no one likes what I do, that nothing I do will be worthwhile--I can continue fighting for these things anyway.

The fight goes on

Whenever I come out of a round of struggling with my depression, the relief is always incredible.  It makes no difference if I've been struggling with my worst despair for a year or if it's just been a miserable couple of weeks. It always surprises me when the relief comes. I'll catch myself enjoying the small fact that I can put my fall workout clothes on (even if they're a bit snug because I've gained a lot of weight since last year). I'll think, 'No more Counting Crows and Goo Goo Dolls, I want to listen to Lady Gaga.' I'll reach out to people I haven't talked to in awhile and ask them how things are going in their life, and really, really want to know.

Those aren't things I can enjoy when I'm struggling. Small, I know, but I'm optimistic in the way that makes sense to me.  As long as I don't feel like I'm trying to swim while carrying an anchor around my neck, I'm pretty effing happy.

Today is one of those days I'm resurfacing. After a few weeks of getting worked up by every little thing and doing nothing in my free time but drinking wine and watching TV, today I felt so much better. I've been eating better and drinking less and barely smoking (yes, I fell off the wagon a bit - don't judge. I'm doing much better than the last time I quit smoking and then quickly unquit), riding my bike into work more and going to be earlier.  Huh, funny how all those things combined actually make you feel better. Here I thought none of those things could really affect my mood.

So, I'm rewarding myself. After biking home I'm going to watch the rest of Die Hard and then work on my divorce papers. The date is coming up in October so I've got to get everything ready. I'm doing this on my own with no lawyer, so it's a little bit intimidating. But I've worked in a law office before and the paperwork really isn't anything horribly difficult (by lawyer standards). So it can and will be done.

Then I shall reward myself with some wine.

It's suicide awareness week and maybe some of the encouraging posts I've read on Facebook have helped me resurface. Also my brother told me that 'Tomorrow will be better.' Well, it isn't always, but sometimes the next day is. Or the next. Or the week after.

Depression Lies

Completely-unrelated-side-note:
I want to find (or sew) a dress just like this for my friend's wedding next September:

Perhaps I could wear it with my fierce shoes.

Grrrrr.

I have to ask myself: Do I even want to get better?

What am I doing this for?

To prove a goal? To try to be superwoman?

What's the point?

I'm stuck and I just feel like being miserable. To stop trying.

I was listening to a stupid romantic song and it just felt like the tug of war between my depression and who I want to be.

She = my brain struggling with depression
Me/I = who I want to be

She's all laid up in bed with a broken heart,
While I'm drinking jack all alone in my local bar,
And we don't know how,
How we got into this mad situation,
Only doing things out of frustration

Trying to make it work but man these times are hard,

She needs me now but I can't seem to find the time,
I've got a new job now on the unemployment line,
And we don't know how,
How we got into this mess
Is it god's test?
Someone help us 'cause we're doing our best,

Trying to make it work but man these times are hard

But we're gonna start by
Drinking old cheap bottles of wine,
Sit talking up all night,
Saying things we haven't for a while
A while, yeah
We're smiling but we're close to tears,
Even after all these years,
We just now got the feeling that we're meeting for the first time


Oh these times are hard,
Yeah they're making us crazy
Don't give up on me baby


But..still. Hope's there:

Don't try to understand crazy, you'll just go crazy trying.

I must have heard this phrase hundreds of times in the past two years. Anyone who has ever been with someone who has simply lost touch with reality can understand how much damage you can do to yourself by 'trying to understand.' It can be hard to let go, a lesson I am still trying to learn.

I obsess. I have an anxiety disorder, but I don't have OCD. I obsess over things so I can think rationally and learn how to best go about things.  I make lists on a daily basis, I keep excels of my daily budget and strive to save an extra $5 whenever possible. I am constantly taxing myself with how I can be more efficient and productive in my workday and even while I'm at home. I make schedules for when I have to work, exercise, play, sleep and do errands. I write things on my hand that I need to remember to do that day. Basically, I stress myself out trying to make sure I am a productive individual. If I don't accomplish everything I have on my list, I berate myself and work myself into a frenzy trying to learn why I didn't do everything and then adjust my week accordingly.

And as a result, I usually burn myself out trying to do everything and after a week or two of extreme-productiveness, I zone out and have a very difficult time staying committed.  

But when it's all things that I am responsible for and have control over, it doesn't bother me so much as I consider it a 'learning experience.' When things are out of my control is when I start to seriously lose my mind.

My ex is a person who has either:

a) lost touch with reality
b) never understood reality in the first place

For our entire marriage, I was the breadwinner.  90% of the time I was working 2 jobs and he was unemployed.  During the first 4 years of our marriage, we slowly stopped contributing equally and I took on all of the responsibilities. This included: bill paying, budgeting, housework, laundry, and supporting my ex emotionally. What did he do? Not much. He cooked a little, took care of the dog and picked up groceries when he wasn't looking for work. (translation: he did 5% of the work and thought he was doing 50-60% Don't ask me how he thought this made sense, read the quote at the top of the post if you need reminding)

He didn't start off like this when we were dating. But once the opportunity came up, he became perfectly complacent with doing less and less and letting me take care of everything, all while thinking he was a perfectly good husband and I had it so good.

When I left him, I was still the one working two jobs and he had nothing. So I continued to pay for things I had been paying for. My reasoning was that if we did end up getting back together, I wouldn't want him resenting me for thinking money was more important than our marriage. It's embarrassing how much I gave this boy without him barely saying thank you. God forbid he actually pay his share of these things. I payed for his rent, our car (which I didn't use and he kept), insurance, premiums, food and insurance for the dog, and the entire phone bill.

I did this for a year, even though we were still separated.

I never got a dime from him for any of these things.

Of course, I was watching how he was using the money I was giving him. He would take all this money and we'd still get hit with late fees from the car insurance. He needed extra money to take our dog to the vet. He would ask to borrow money and never returned it to me. He took our entire tax return and spent it, saying that it was his money to spend because he saved the money from his own paychecks.

After a year, I told him I would not be paying his rent anymore. He bombarded me with text messages and emails. He left voicemails on my phone day and night, telling me I had no right to do this and how I was kicking him and the dog onto the streets.  Whenever I stopped paying for something I shouldn't pay for, I got the same treatment. He'd dig his heels in and tell me what I was doing wasn't fair - how I had no right to take these things away from him.

This happened for another year. I'd take things away - he would act out like a child. Then he would ask me to come home, how he could be a better husband.

I filed for a divorce last October. The first court date was in April and he changed it to June. The next court date was scheduled for August and he changed it to October. He has been fighting me tooth and nail for this, because he truly believes that we had a good marriage and he can be a good husband if I would just give him another chance.

He doesn't understand that I took care of him like he was my child. He doesn't see that he would act like an infant whenever I caught him lying. He truly believes that he did the best he could and couldn't possibly do any better.  He says he wants his wife back - and I believe he means it. What he doesn't understand is that truly, subconsciously, he wants that time back when he was free of most of life's responsibilities and had someone there to cater to his needs.

This is why you don't try to understand crazy. I have been trying for over 2 years and I've gotten nowhere.
 
And, as a result of his irresponsible behavior and my need to be productive and understand where my money is going, I have completely lost it the past 6 months.  I was doing alright until the first court date was supposed to happen. He asked to change it at the last minute and I agreed. He made the excuse that he couldn't take that day off because of his job. I wanted to do the right thing and try to make this as easy for him as possible (I still harbor some unnecessary guilt for leaving).

 After that I started falling apart.

I spent my energy obsessing over what he was doing with the money I was still giving him, how he could spend $200 on cable every month but never somehow offer to give me $50 as a token of goodwill and a 'thank you.'

 He kept sending me emails and texts about how much he missed me and how he wanted to have me come home. He played on every single goodwill I still had inside me and used up all of my resources to be a considerate person to someone who had taken so much from me. He made me feel guilty and played every manipulative card he had in his hand. 

I should have been able to ignore him and not allow him to use me like he had for our entire marriage. Should. But I couldn't.  My self-worth plummeted and I stopped going to therapy. I stopped talking to friends because I had already made the decision to divorce him and he wasn't saying anything new, so what did I have to discuss? He made me feel like I was a bad person, so I stopped exercising or caring about what I was doing to myself. I noticed I was gaining weight and losing perspective but I couldn't seem to bring myself back to that obsessive person who took care of herself and her life. I now had to obsess to understand what my ex was doing to me and how on earth he could treat me like dirt. I had given him everything in every possible way and what he was doing to me just didn't make sense.

I replaced my daily schedule with keeping track of  the money he was taking out of the bank. I combed through pictures he was taking of the dog and tried to figure out if he was losing weight because my ex wasn't feeding him enough. I stopped making a workout regime and instead printed out emails and text messages that proved he was lying to me about this or that. Instead of just cutting him off, I kept trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, doing all these things to try to prove that I was wrong, that I'm the one who kept getting things mixed up and how he really was just having a run of bad luck. That's why he couldn't pay for things, that's why he wasn't acting like an adult.

I can't say that any of what I was doing made sense. I was trying to understand crazy. 

I'm not sure how much progress I can make before he's out of my life completely. I'm not sure how long it's going to take me to get every trace of him out of my life. I could wish that when we're officially not married anymore, everything would fall into place.  But that's not going to happen. 

I'm angry at myself for obsessing over things that I allowed him to take control over. I'm angry at myself for losing my creativity, for letting myself go, and for losing precious minutes, hours, and days trying to 'figure him out.'

For what?

I learned nothing except that he is a boy, a man-child. And that child is trying to ruin my life because I ruined his by walking out. 

Ok, so things are getting weird.

And by weird, I mean better.

So, I've made some serious life changes which I want to keep up with, and I have some pretty big goals that I can accomplish.

I quit smoking. Granted, it's only been 1 day. I'm sure I haven't had the worst of it yet. But it's something. And within one day, my mind has turned to other things to focus on.

I've been biking to work a lot for the past few weeks. And after a few flat tires and some trips to the bike shop and asking my boyfriend a ridiculous amount of questions, I feel like I have a rhythm down. Or at least I plan on commuting on my bike unless something happens.  I'm trying to see if I can only put $20 on my Charlie Card for this month and see if that's all I need. Which would be nice. $70/month for a monthly pass? I'm sorry, that won't do. Then it jumps to $140 if I get a commuter rail pass. Totally insane.

The added bonus of biking on almost a daily basis is the amount of cardio I get just by getting to work and back. Considering that I'm just getting back into working out again, it's good to have something that forces me to work out every day. Anything else I do is bonus.

And I'm not doing that much more, but at least I'm not sitting around saying, 'I can't do that until I quit smoking.' (and then continue to smoke with no plan to quit)

But, I want to be athletic again. I remember when I wanted to run my first marathon. I hadn't ever really run before, I never really liked running either, and at that point I couldn't run more than a half mile without almost passing out.

Eight months after I made the decision to start running, I ran my first marathon in 4:32. I don't know how I trained, I just clocked the miles. No interval training, no coaching. Just me and my sneakers and the Charles River.

Now, I want to get back to that. Not for vanity or for gloating ability, but just because I can.

It's not going to be that hard to reach a personal record for me for just about any race I run, because I've run 2 marathons and a 5k. That's it. I feel like I train for things backwards.

So, here's the goal(s):

I want to be able to run a 7 minute mile. Keep in mind, I've never run anything faster than a 8:05 min/mile.

I want to qualify for the Boston Marathon in 2014 (I'll still be 30 then, and I feel that would be a good reward to welcome myself into my next decade)

I want to run a 3:15 marathon. (I'd need to run 3 hour 35 min to qualify for Boston, but Boston is filling up faster and faster every year, and not everyone who qualifies gets to run. So I want to aim low)

A 3:15 marathon requires me to run a 7:30 minute mile pace the whole 26.2 miles. I want to know if an ex-smoker can do this.

I have about 14 months to accomplish all these things.

The super-insane thing is I think I can do it. After all, I am clearly a glutton for punishment.

...but the shoes are an important part.

This has been a really, really rough couple of years. Not just for me, but for my friends as well.  All of us agreed that 2011 was a real bitch and that 2012 better pay off the screw-ups of the previous year. 

Last year things were so bad that I didn’t want to acknowledge my birthday.  I didn’t want to celebrate anything , because I was so angry and scared and frustrated with the situation I was in. My depression was worse than it ever had been before, and I was in a deep, dark hole where I couldn’t see any light. I had been in that situation so long I began to wonder if I’d ever see light again. Many times, I didn’t care if I would. That was terrifying. Why would you want to celebrate anything if you’re in that dark of a place? So I totally refused to acknowledge it.  I had to work, and many people wished me a happy birthday, but I didn’t want to hear it. I was downright grumpy and got irritated with people who wanted to wish me well.

Luckily, I made it out. I still have depression, but with the right meds and therapy and a lot of help from my friends, it’s a bit more under control.  But the scars of that time are still fresh in my mind. And it scares me still.

Because of a very brave and extremely funny woman, I started reading thebloggess.  And last week, read her post about the Traveling Red Dress project. Read about it here.

And I wanted to celebrate my birthday.  I wanted to face the sun and smile when people wished me well. I wanted to remind myself that I am no longer in that deep, dark hole I never thought I’d escape from and I am going forward.

You know what I wanted?

Shoes.

I have 5 pairs of shoes:
Work non-slip shoes
Running shoes
Sneakers
Flip flops
Black pumps (I got these from payless for $12 because I couldn't justify spending any more than that on 'impractical footwear')

I wanted some impractical footwear.

Very impractical. And expensive. And vibrant. And completely unnecessary.

I wanted bright yellow pumps. Think highlighter yellow and so dazzling you’d have to look away if you stared at them for more than a few seconds.

Last weekend, I visited 20 different stores to try to find these shoes.  Apparently, they’re ‘all the rage’ this spring and everyone was sold out, or didn’t have them in my size, or they weren’t exactly what I was looking for.  Finally, the last store I went to had them. I tried them on, expecting to feel amazing and powerful and strong. 


...and they looked cheap. And they didn’t fit well. And I thought, "I’m supposed to slip into these shoes and feel totally beautiful and confidant and sexy.  These make me feel like a trashy slut." And I started to feel the wave of darkness coming back. 

I practically ran out of the store and instead went back to Aldo, where I had first looked. I had tried on these shoes that I thought I could order in yellow, but it didn’t work out.  But the shoes I had tried on were so vibrant, so stunning. 

Just. Fierce.

I bought the shoes without a second thought and ran home and told Lucas that he needed to meet me to take pictures of me in these shoes right now. He was surprisingly very ok with this idea. (I have the best friends!!)


So he came over, we went outside and over to the park across from my house.  I started getting extremely nervous and thought, "What am I doing? I hate being the center of attention and here I'm making friends take pictures of me because of what? Shoes? Plus, there's people in that park!!" I started backing up, back to my house. Lucas gave me the look that said 'What are you getting nervous about? We are taking those pictures in the park and you WILL put those shoes on and deal with it.' I sighed, nodded, and walked with him to the park, thinking this was a horrible idea, the whole thing.

This is the face of regret and anxiety.

 But we didn't go back inside.  Lucas kept taking pictures. And in 15 minutes I had transformed from scared, anxious, nervous little girl:
 To someone willing to take a step into the unknown:


And then this happened:
And I transformed. I felt beautiful and strong.


The sun had come out, and I felt so much joy. I felt wonderful, like I deserved all these good feelings. I was worth it. 


Now, I can point out from these pictures over 100 things I would like to change about myself physically, I'm not perfect and never will be, but I felt like a totally beautiful person while wearing those shoes.





We all need that. We all need that indulgent thing that isn't practical but makes us feel special and important. Something simple that takes your breath away with how great it makes you feel. The bloggess has the traveling red dress, I have the non-traveling birthday shoes.








Step away from yourself riddled with anxiety, or fear, or depression.  Figure out how to bring out that smart, sexy, confidant person who loves themselves despite their flaws.  I just did.




And it felt amazing.  It only took 15 minutes, a pair of shoes, and a good friend.


I'm very lucky.


Happy birthday to me :)