I understand it now. The terminology makes sense to me finally.
I believe one of the greatest things my mom did for me was to be frank about depression and how it runs in my family.
I was only ten years old when my dad’s sister took her life. That was when my mom first told me about Manic Depression (Bi-Polar) and that it ran rampant in my Dad’s family. She told me to never be ashamed of how I feel and to always seek help if I felt like I was no longer in control.
Thanks to her, I have always kept a check on my mood, or rather try my best. Today I noticed I have been manic-depressive since MIL’s death. I have been in a pattern of ups and downs. Example: Manic day- Cleaning frenzy, shopping, talking, hang out and go eat. Next day, Depressive- Sleep all day, no motivation to get out of bed, even though there are things to be done.
Sometimes I have several manic days in a row before a depressive day and vice versa. But it’s been really bad as of late.
So… my question I issue to you lovelies who deal with the same/similar issues— How do you deal with those depressive days? Any advice to cope without meds? Any and all advice is welcome!
Thanks for reading!
-Butthead and I are lounging in bed-
Me: *lunges and snuggles my face in his neck/under chin area* *giggle*
Butthead: Uhm. ‘Kay…. *laughs* *moves me out of my hidey spot and kisses my cheek, then rests his face on mine, my cheek to his forehead*
Me: *slyly sticks out tongue and sticks it to his forehead.* *snort, giggle, giggle*
Butthead: “Huh? Oh… really? That’s how it is huh?” *before I can wiggle free, he pins me and licks my face- chin to forehead… Labrador style.*
Me: “oh! Nooooo! Groooooooosssss! ” *sigh*
So many things running thru my head lately, I can’t nail anything down to write about. My heartache over MIL, life in general, how life has changed the month she’s been gone.
We’ve had good days and bad. Sad and happy. Life moves on it seems, but it’s so much emptier. I cry about things I wish could of happened before she was gone.
I cry because my children will not have any grandparents. She wanted us to have a baby so bad. I wanted her there with me when I have birth.
I actually busted out in tears while talking to Buttheads sis and step brother. S.B. said, “She was there for both my kids birth…” and it hit me like a Mack truck. Sis looked at me when I gasped and I felt my face contort. I sunk my face in my hands and wailed as sis came over to hold me. “Oh! Honey! ” she knew what my realization was
… “I will be there, I promise! ” She told me as she held me tight.
It hurt so bad. My heart felt like it hit the floor. MIL loved her grandbabies like nothing else in the world. I hate my children will not know their Nana.
I have more on this subject, but this is all my heart can take right now.
Today it was real.
I went back to work. The place we worked together. The place that just under a month ago we mourned the loss of one of our patients.
Today I had to stop telling myself, “I have to tell her…” , “need to remember that to tell her…” .
Today I realized she wouldn’t call to check in. She wouldn’t be asking me what I wanted for lunch.
Today my lil man I take care of said, “We sure will miss her…” and with a lump in my throat I squeaked- “yes…yes we will.”
Today it was too real that she is really gone. I can’t stand this hole in my chest.
I am mad. FUCKING MAD!
Why her? Why? It seems so unfair! We had just got so close! Is that why?! Is it? She had finally squelched my desire for a mother figure! I finally felt not so empty!
But, no! NO NO NO! And what about Butthead!? I feel like I have truly fucking failed him. I can’t be strong for him. I just sob like a baby. What good am I? He needs me and I am as strong as an overcooked noodle!
So unfair. So unbelievable! I want to be MAD! I NEED TO BE MAD. I want to blame someone… yell at them! Scream at them. Justice… right the wrong! BUT HOW? There is no one! I just want to SCREAM!
I AM SO MAD! I WANT TO BEAT MY FISTS AGAINST THE WALL AND JUST SCREAM AND CRY UNTIL I CANT MOVE. UNTIL MY VOICE FADES AND I HAVE NO ENERGY.
I want to stop this feeling. This fucked up, angry, upset, could cry at the drop of a hat, emotionally drained but raging kind of mentality.
I … just want her back. Please wake me up. Please!
Is it crazy to keep wanting to see her come through the door?
Is it crazy to keep expecting the phone to ring her tone?
Is it crazy to keep thinking… “this can’t be real”?
Is it crazy to miss her this much?
I haven’t hurt like this in a long time. My mind is numb. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to remember that she is gone. She shouldn’t be gone. Not this soon.
I want her back. I miss her. I just want to talk to her again!
It took me 28 years to figure this out. I had to make sense of it all. This ache I feel, the emptiness, it has to be explained! This is the worst ache I have felt since losing my own parents ten years ago.
I have concluded that we are sent to this earth with a heart that is not ours to keep. Through out our days here, we break off pieces to give to others for safe keeping. Sure, some are returned to us at the end of relationships- sometimes in need of repair. Other times we give out small pieces that are never returned.
The pieces that matter most are given bit by bit over time. We give those pieces to those who surround us the most. Who we experience life with and who we care for the most. People who we admire, the ones who we share hopes and dreams with. The people we call family- blood or not- are the people who carry the majority of our heart.
When we lose these people, pieces of our heart fly back to Heaven with them. This is why my chest hurts so. Another huge chunk of my heart has flown to Heaven and the ache is deep. As with most wounds, yes time will heal it. Time cannot, however, remove the mark on my soul.
A scar of that which is missing. The piece no longer there. My heart in Heaven is building, waiting for me to be there. I look to that day with wonder, but knowing I must wait. I still have time on this Earth-for pieces of my heart still remain.