Tag Archives: depression

Sorry Balls

18 Jul

Let me put it all out there for my followers, this month is no longer the Month of Cards and has lost all potential to be called so.

I have become a pile of  depressed balls.

I feel bad because:

1. I broke a promise made to my readers.

2. I have no intention of trying to redeem myself in any way.

I lay in bed day after day doing the bare minimum work required of me around the house. And because T is so enabling accommodating he doesn’t complain and goes about doing whatever it is that should have been done by me when he returns from work.

The only respite from this depressed behaviour is when I interact with humans while playing D&D a couple of evenings out of the week. And even then it’s been ridiculously hard to pull myself out of the dark hole I now live in basement and enjoy myself.

This is where I would attempt to lighten the tone, pour on some hope and make a promise of making it up to you. But I’ll be real with you, that’s not going to happen.

Everything I write since falling into this depression has been rubbish. Nothing is organic, everything is flat.

I need my muse back. Then balance will be restored to my life and my writing will fall in line.

Until then…

 

Sorry Balls.

(That’s my sorry card being played by the way. Since I am the creator of the cards I have a special deck that has a lot of balls.)

 

 

Please enjoy this video linked below. Kids are awesome. I want mine back.

Written By A Kid

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My Concussion Still Sucks Metaphorical Balls.

15 Jun

Ever since my concussion (read all about it HERE and HERE) I have felt emotionally unstable. Because of the Post Concussion Syndrome, I have frequent headaches and experience anxiety in social situations (even when I’m with my close friends and family), loud noises or chaotic environments trigger attacks, small things I used to not fret over worry me and make my heart palpitate, and in addition to the anxiety the concussion caused depression as well.

From the usual content of my writing this may come as a shock to you. I keep my posts humourous and upbeat no matter how I might be feeling on that particular day. I find that when I force myself to write, even when I am mentally in a dark hole, it helps turn my day around. I work really hard to search out a happy place and when I find it, I start to write and share what I found with the world.

I enjoy writing. I enjoy laughing. And I especially enjoy other people’s laughter. But this past week has been torture. I don’t know why it’s been worse than usual. My body is even feeling it. My legs are fatiguing and last night I felt pain in them that I hadn’t felt in months, my joints are aching, I even find myself frowning and scowling for no particular reason.  It hard to find pleasure in anything. I can’t seem to look forward to fun things we’ve planned for this weekend, and that just makes me mad.

What really gets me going though? I know all these feelings are irrational. I have no reason to be sad, disappointed, agitated, depressed, angry, or anxious. I feel hyper aware that my mental state does not fit my situation in life and that makes me even more agitated and frustrated.

My life has improved in so many ways over the last few months. My hubby graduated college a few months ago and he has a great job in a very cool field, We have money now (such a relief of stress), I’ve been able to visit home a few times in Seattle, I got to see my brother get married, My son is growing more awesome with each passing day, I’ve lost 3 lbs, I have a couple of friends in Canadaland now, And my application for permanent residency is currently under evaluation and should be approved by the end of the year. Seriously, I should be happy. I should be loving life, enjoying the beautiful summer with my son and husband. But I’m struggling, and that frustrates me.

I’ve been to a few doctors about these issues and each time they say there is nothing they can do for me because the problems are caused by my post concussion syndrome, not a chemical imbalance or an inability to cope with a crisis. They say this could last from a few months, to several years, or the rest of my life. I wish I could take a pill for a while, or get some counseling and be better. But those remedies won’t help me. I feel like there they are telling me there is no hope but time, and I don’t want to accept that.

I want myself back. I don’t want to have to dig myself out of this stupid dark hole anymore, I want to always be in the beautiful light of life. I don’t want “good days and bad days”. I want to be the Lacey I was before the concussion. The rational, emotionally stable, spontaneous, upbeat, positive, excited about life, always looking on the bright side, Lacey. I hate that I have to force a smile on my face, I feel so fake doing it. But the anxiety and depression are the true disingenuous a-holes. They are both LIARS and exist in a false reality.

I know that my anxiety and depression are affecting my son and husband, and that breaks my heart. This past week has been especially hard for everyone I think. I try to make up for all my neurotic behaviour when I have a good day, but I haven’t had one of those in over a week and it’s not for my lack of trying. And it just adds to how horrible I feel when my husband is all sweet, caring, loving, understanding… I feel worse when he is so good about it all. How’s that for crazy?

I don’t know where I was going with this post, or if I had a point I was going to make. Honestly, no clue… I do however know that a lot of people suffer from anxiety and depression. And if you’re reading this and can relate to what I am going through, I hope you feel less alone.

Until these concussion related problems dissipate, I’m going to keep fighting against it. I’ll keep climbing out of the dark hole, I’ll keep trying to smile. I still have my will to fight and it will not defeat me. Anxiety and Depression will have their place for a while it seems, but I refuse to let them define me. I refuse to give up hope for an end to all this inner madness.

And so today I do battle in my head. I hope if you’re feeling DOWN, that you’ll fight for the UP with me! And if you’re already UP, how about you grab the hand of someone who is DOWN, and drag them UP to you. Or throw a couple Xanax or Valium at them. Be friend will ya?

P.S. A friend of mine linked me this video, HAPPY!, and it brought me a genuine smile. It was just what I needed to find true happiness today, and a grip on reality. I looked at my son and remembered his first words and how his laugh used to sound when he was a baby. Thanks C!

P.P.S. When I went to do the tags after finishing this post, one of them was “Lady Gaga”. I thought about why she was suggested. It has to be because of my mention of pills and living in an alternate reality. I tagged her because WordPress would never lead me astray….

Idaho? Oh Balls.

7 Jun

The last time I started a new school I spent a good amount of time crying and begging my mom to let me be home schooled. This time I was out of tears. I had spent over 2 weeks crying. September came and I had resolved to attend school without protest, but also to make no effort whatsoever to make new friends. Which proved to be quite easy since all the girls seemed more interested in mocking my clothing, hair and make-up instead of getting to know me. I’ve never been a “blender” and decided to keep my identity. I wasn’t going to change myself for these vapid girls.

 

Just like every high school there were the obvious groups, except at Meridian High School they all kept to their own clique. There were the jocks, the nerds, the punks, the pot-heads, the emos, the pretty girls, the juvenile delinquents, the choir kids, and the band geeks and the drama freaks. I couldn’t find a place among any of those groups if I wanted to. I’m not athletic, I’m intelligent but not nerdy, I didn’t smoke pot, I didn’t wear black and listen to punk music, I wasn’t bound for prison, I was pretty but would rather pluck out my eyelashes than hang with those pretty girls, I wasn’t in choir, I didn’t play an instrument and I had no desire to make friends with the up-beat drama freaks. No, I was determined to mope about at home, stay depressed and just get through the school year. And I was sure about 1 thing. I would not make any friends, because in a year or 2 I would have to say goodbye. Because that’s how my life went. I’d settle in, make great friends, form a life I loved, and then I would be uprooted and have to start over. Well if I never started, I’d never have to start over. In my head, that made sense. (Yes, I would have emotionally fit in with the emo kids.)

 

I did pretty well when it came to not making friends. My health wasn’t exceptional so I missed school often, and if you don’t talk to a person they don’t become your friend. The only time I struggled was at lunch time. I used to have such a good time with all my girlfriends in Lake Stevens at lunch. We’d sit together, laugh, share food, gossip… Now I had 30 minutes of being alone with my food. For the first few days of school I ate in a hallway, sitting up against a locker, but people talked to me. Mostly outcast freshman, I didn’t want company. So I took my lunch elsewhere.

 

For 2 months I ate in a stall in the girls bathroom. I know what you’re thinking, I think that too. Sometimes I would cry and sometimes I would finish eating and start on homework. Again, I am well aware of how bizarre this was as I was the one in there.

Btw, do you have any idea how many bulimic teenage girls there are in this world? If I had to guess, at least 25% of the girls in my high school were. I would hear girl after girl throwing up while I tried to keep my lunch down. And if they weren’t throwing up, they were shooting up, snorting up or generally getting effed up. Those girls I reported, I had to do something. I couldn’t just be the weird girl eating her lunch in the bathroom while criminal activity was taking place. I gave myself a higher purpose. I was an undercover cop busting girls abusing substances. Except without the cop part. And my cover was a bathroom stall. And I would just tell the front office after I was done eating and they had left.

One time when I reported some girls for drug use in the bathroom, the office woman asked me, “How do you always happen to be in there when they are doing drugs?” I replied matter-of-factly, “I eat in a stall.” She cocked her head to one side and frowned, “Oh child, have you no friends?”  I sarcastically replied, “Oh yes I do, I just have a sensitive bowel.” She was not impressed and that response probably discredited furthering reports.

 

Time passed.

 

In December I accidentally made a friend. Our teacher changed the seating assignments and I was placed by this girl who always gave me dirty looks. I don’t know why she did, I had never said a word to her. For some reason, she decided to talk to me that day. Come to find out she was completely unaware of her facial expressions. That’s just what her face does when she’s not thinking. We ended up having a lot in common and after 3 full months of staying mum, it felt nice to talk to someone.  She asked me where I sat at lunch (I avoided that question) and said I was welcome to join her friends. And so I did from that day on. (Years later I told her where I had been eating lunch before she invited me to eat with her. Immediately she looked puzzled, nearly sad perhaps, then she couldn’t stop laughing at me.) I had made a friend!  And soon I started making more.

I created a good circle of friends in Meridian, Idaho. But unlike in Lake Stevens where most were girls, I only had 1 girlfriend. Kim. She meant the world to me. She saved me from loneliness, sadness and all the other negative-nesses I was inflicting on myself.

We had a mutual love, Brownie Batter. (Yes, I was blonde for a while…)

 

The rest of my friends consisted of 6 teen boys affectionately referred to as “The Guys”, they were like brothers to me. By January I was happy with life in Idaho.

But as my general happiness with my social life started to rise, my physical health declined. It was declining so fast that by the last quarter of my sophomore year I went to school once a week to get assignments and spent the rest of my time in bed doing homework, resting so I could see my friends on the weekend. This period of time was difficult for me. The decline was so rapid that I had little time to adjust to my new limits. I frequently over did it with activity and would experience extreme pain, fatigue and occasional paralysis in my legs as my body tried to recover from the physical damage I inflicted up on it. I’m not saying I went out running or mountain climbing. I would pay heavy consequences for walking around the mall for an hour. It was hard to adjust to this new lifestyle of limits, physically and especially mentally.

My brother would stay home from school to take care of me on my bad days, as my parents could not miss anymore work. During this time my brother and I grew even closer than we already had been. I depended on him for so much. He’d bring me my pills, make my breakfast and lunch, he’d watch endless movies with me and tolerate my afternoon habit of watching Star Trek. And when I would lose the use of my legs, he’d carry me around wherever I needed to go. Even to the bathroom. He was amazing. Seriously, a girl couldn’t ask for a more perfect brother, or best friend.

 

Soon my regular doctor was unable to help with my pain management and became very concerned as my quality of life declined, so he referred me to a Muscular Dystrophy Specialist in Boise.

Enter the best doctor ever! He was dry and sarcastic, a bit of a tool actually, and slightly intimidating but had a soft spot for people with MD, especially children. He was amazing at what he did. He also introduced me to the community of MDA, thank God for MDA!