Beep Beep. Happy 4th. Hot Dog Turnips.

Welcome to my randomly-titled post.

I think that this has officially been the longest I’ve gone without posting here in a long time. It’s been a week. I honestly don’t remember the last time I went this long without a post.. But I’ve been busy.

The Zoloft seems to be helping as far as I can tell, though the anxiety/depression has always waxed and waned so I’m not sure if the medicine is helping lift the fog, or if I’m just going through a “clear” period. I do know that the first few days on the medication made me nauseous as hell which wasn’t much fun. One thing I failed to mention about my doctor’s appointment is that I’m ten pounds lighter than I was this time last year, which surprised me and is pretty cool. I’m still technically obese (I say ‘technically’ because I think the BMI scale was actually created by either Nazis, or Kate Moss who may or may not be a robot. Robot Nazis, maybe. I’m not sure but whoever did it is an asshole) but I was happy to see that I have lost some weight.. Even though I haven’t really been doing anything different.

I’m feeling happier. I’m getting more joy out of things. I went to chorus last night and for the first time in a while, thinking about going didn’t make me feel anxious and worried. We had a really great, long holiday weekend with a little surprise. And by “little surprise” I don’t mean that I’m pregnant. Just getting that out there. We dropped Nellie off at the grandparents’ and went to a car dealership to see about trading our 2006 Hyundai in. We had plans to just ask if it was even possible, as we still owed money on it. It had almost 100k miles on it, and was beginning to fail us and was on the verge of costing us a lot of money. Four hours and a lot of “don’t get your hopes up” looks at each other later, we drove off the lot with a brand new, 2012 Ford car. Yeah, I know. I was shocked too and I’m still in denial that it’s ours. I keep expecting the car salesman to call us and tell us to bring it back; that they were just fucking with us. The payments are a little more a month, but my name is on the lease (it wasn’t on the Tuscon) and it’s going to build my credit score. Which is awesome. It also has a SYNC system, which means I can do certain stuff with my voice and it makes me feel like I’m piloting a spaceship. I can hook up my iPod and push a button and be like “PLAY.” and it’ll fucking play. And then I can be like, “CALL. JOSH.” and it’ll totally call Josh. Except sometimes it misunderstands me, and will dial someone that I totally don’t want to talk to and I’m left frantically trying to get it to stop by pushing random buttons on my steering wheel and yelling, “NO! NO! END CALL. END CALL! NO!” and I swear to God sometimes I can hear the car laughing at me. Did I mention the Zoloft is working?

We had a nice cookout at Josh’s sister’s place on Sunday, and Nellie got to swim and eat lots of stuff. Mostly cookies and a hot dog. I swear to crap, this child is going to turn into a freaking hot dog. She eats so many of them and I hate it because they’re so unhealthy, but I’m kind of just glad she’s eating so I just pretend they’re turnips, or really weird looking pieces of lettuce.

So anyway, that’s my totally random update about my car that’s awesome but is also fucking with my head, my kid’s hot dog obsession and my mental health.

 

Getting Help.

A few months ago, I blogged about my recurring issues with anxiety. I got a lot of really positive feedback and comments with people coming forward and telling me the way I was feeling was very familiar; that they, too suffered from anxiety issues. I had the support, but I didn’t really know where to begin in getting help and I guess I was still a little nervous and half-convinced that it’d go away on its own.

As had happened in the past, it did go away… For a while. I was feeling better, getting exercise and in a generally happy mood. Then, without any real trigger or warning it came back. I’d begin to feel anxious. Withdrawn. I didn’t feel like going to chorus. I’d make excuses to myself why I didn’t need to go. I didn’t feel like blogging (but I did), or playing, or doing much of anything. Little things started to feel overwhelming to the point where I’d be in tears thinking about them. Things are tight for us financially right now, but that’s nothing new. We’ve been back and forth with doing well and not doing well for nearly four years now, but in the past few days when I’d look at our checkbook and realize that even with Josh working insane overtime hours we were still barely making ends meet, I began to feel so upset and overwhelmed that I could barely breathe. In the past, I was able to greet our financial hardships with a sunny attitude of, “It’ll get better. Things can only get better. We will make it through this rough patch.” But this time, all I could see was endless work with little payoff and I felt desperately hopeless.

Thinking about all of the things I had to do at work felt like a mountain that was impossible to climb. Thinking about dishes to wash, laundry to fold, a baby to bathe and feed and entertain and other responsibilities that are just day-to-day began to make me feel unhappy and depressed. I finally realized that I was tired of waiting for it to get better, because it’s not going to without some kind of outside help. I began to think about the past few months and how I’ve been feeling like my life is being lived through a filter. My happiness, my joy, my enthusiasm has been muffled to me. My smiles are forced more often than not. I have not been myself, but I’ve been powerless to change it. It’s like someone’s taken control of my body and is living my life for me. Sometimes I can fake it and be convincing and other times, the act is probably very thin and obvious. I’ve been short and snappy with my husband, getting angry and frustrated at every little thing he does or says. And my sex drive? It’s non-existent.

I finally took a step today to getting the help I’ve been putting of for months. I don’t know if what I have is considered anxiety, depression, postpartum, or a combination. I don’t even know if 17 months after having a child it can be considered postpartum depression anymore. All I know is that I’m not myself, haven’t been for a while, and I’m tired of this apathetic impostor controlling me. Tomorrow I have an appointment with a woman – an ex-midwife – many of my friends see. When I called to make the appointment, I mentioned that I was due for an annual pap smear but I also needed to talk to someone about the possibility of having postpartum depression. The woman on the line sounded sympathetic and understanding. She didn’t tell me I was calling the wrong place and she didn’t talk to me like I was crazy, which are both things I guess I was afraid of.

I’ll keep you all posted as to how the appointment goes tomorrow. I feel hopeful for what tomorrow will bring. The doctor may not be able to give me all the help I need, but hopefully she can give me a start and point me in the right direction.

 

Losing My Mind (and Debit Card)

This morning, I almost lost my mind.

I stopped at a gas station to put gas in the car on the way back from dropping Josh off at work. I had Nellie in the car with me. I pulled next to the pump, walked around to the backseat where I had my purse and her diaper bag. Nellie gave me a big grin and I pulled my wallet out of my purse. I took out my debit card and she started fussing and crying, wanting my wallet. I reached into her diaper bag and grabbed my old wallet – which is now Nellie’s. I handed her the pink billfold with the butterflies on it and she gave me another grin as she turned it around in her hands. I smiled at her…………

And completely and utterly forgot what I did with my debit card. I opened my wallet again. Checked my pockets. What the hell? I digged through the diaper bag. Opened my purse and emptied it. Panic began to rise up in me and Nellie began to screech and whine, tired of being in her car seat. She reached for me as I was frantically turning our backseat upside-down trying to find my green debit card.

I became increasingly agitated; not only was I missing my debit card and was in need of gas in the car but moreso… How in the holy living hell did I lose my debit card IN MY OWN CAR? As Nellie’s cries turned louder, I became more stressed. I started to tear up, saying to myself, “How in the hell can this happen? How did I lose my own damn card in MY CAR?”

I looked around on the ground surrounding the car. Nothing. I quickly searched my pockets, my wallet, Nellie’s wallet. I had no idea what to do. I was tearing up even more and feeling helpless. What was I supposed to do? I lost my damn debit card while standing there. Was I losing my mind? Going senile? The damn thing was gone. Should I call my bank and cancel it? I got back in the car and drove off to the side of the station to collect my thoughts. I took some deep breaths, fighting off tears. Nellie was wailing, I was on the verge of yelling at her and I felt so stupid. I decided to drive back toward the pump and park at the one right across the way from it so I could look on the ground again. I pulled around, tears in my eyes and parked the car. I looked out the window and there on the ground I saw it – the backside of my green debit card. I flung the door open and hurried over to where it was. I picked it up, flipped it over and read my name on the front. I felt so relieved I almost started crying again.

In my haste to retrieve Nellie’s wallet so she’d stop crying, I must have tried to shove my card in my back pocket but missed. I felt silly that I’d gotten so panicked while standing there pumping my gas, but it really freaked me out that I legitimately could not remember what had happened to my card. I had no recollection of putting it in my pocket, or even going through the motions of doing so. I was distraught at the thought of having to cancel my card, and really disturbed at the fact that my memory & mind had failed me so terribly… And Nellie crying and reaching the whole time made things worse.

This isn’t the first time I’ve temporarily misplaced something when stressed about Nellie crying. I realized that the sound of her crying has a stressing effect on me – I hastily do whatever I can to stop the sound and make her happy and in doing that everything else leaves my brain. It’s like my brain’s not capable of focusing on anything but making her crying stop.

So that was my morning. I’m losing my mind, but at least I found my effing card, right?

Anxiety

I’ve suspected for about as long as I’ve been aware of such things that I suffer from mild anxiety. Feelings of not wanting to go back to school after a few days’ absence, feeling worried and anxious when I’ve forgotten to do something important, etc.

Since having a baby, it has gotten worse. Amplified. My anxiety is full-blown and takes my breath away sometimes. I started feeling kind of weird about it when I worked my Telemarketing Job From Hell. One day as I was texting Joshua I started breathing fast and feeling like I wanted to just run away. I wanted to spring from my chair, sprint down the stairs and run as far as I could. I actually retreated to the bathroom to breathe & cry for a few minutes.

The anxious feelings come out of nowhere sometimes. Right now as I type this, there is a ball in my stomach. It’s a squirming, writhing feeling that is twisting itself into a big uncomfortable knot. I feel overwhelmed. I feel helpless. I feel anxious.

But about what?

I don’t know but I fucking hate this feeling. I have these anxious feelings more and more often and I can’t really pinpoint a trigger. They just happen. I’m starting to wonder more frequently if I need to seek some sort of medicine for the anxiety because as I’ve said, it’s always been there but since I had a baby and my hormones went HOORAY LET’S SMASH AND RUIN THINGS it’s been so much worse.

I know that my anxious feelings have led to a decline in my hobbies; when I get to feeling anxious I don’t want to go to chorus. I don’t want to really do anything but not feel anxious anymore. I just wish I knew where the hell these feelings came from.

Am I totally alone? Am I the only one with squirmy, knotted things living inside their stomachs for absolutely no fucking reason whatsoever? How do you deal with this shit?