This post will be a nice break from all the mopey, depressing posts. I promise to ease up on those for awhile. Especially since I'm feeling so much better about life and such. So here is a post dedicated to the vacation we took back in June. A little late, I know, but I've been emo-blogging, being a mom and what not. Give me a break.
But don't worry. This is going to be the best kind of post - the kind with pictures. Everyone loves a blog with pictures because it doesn't require reading. I'll even help you along. All you need to know about our vacation is this:
San Diego, beach, sand, eating, naps, love, Penny, family, Nora, SD Zoo, Sea World, more eating, ELMO, more love.
I realize it's been quite a while since I've written and I only have pharmacology to blame. In the two months since I've been out of the hospital I've been to two different doctors about eight times. One is the psychiatrist who tinkers with my medication doses so I don't feel like either a zombie or a homicidal maniac. The other is my psychologist who meets with Jason and I to talk about how my feeling like a zombie and a homicidal maniac is affecting us.
It hasn't been easy. I thought that as soon as I got out of the hospital, back home and on the right medicines, everything would be spiffy. I'd be able to handle everything life could throw at me and then some. Instead I'm figuring out how to deal with the learning curve that goes with taking these medications. I'm learning how to live with not feeling depressed all the time. I know that sounds ridiculous but sometimes I honestly can't remember the last time I didn't feel depressed. Before marriage? College? High School? Maybe longer? When you've just been scraping by for as long as I have, allowing yourself to feel better is somewhat of a challenge. The other side of that coin is allowing yourself to feel upset at all; not just sadness but anger or hurt. Sometimes I get mad at myself for being angry about something. Shouldn't I be fine now? Shouldn't these things not bother me as much?
I don't know. What I do know is that I'm still working on it. Every day is still a struggle to make things feel right. But it's a struggle I've been able to handle. I've started sleeping enough and eating better. I've even started exercising again. I still drink way too much caffeine and complain about getting up early to go for my walk. But I know that each day I do it, the next won't be so difficult. And that's what I have to remember - tomorrow won't be so difficult.
A few months ago there was an episode of Glee that really hit home for me. One of the characters finally realized she had a problem with her OCD and went to a doctor. This is what the doctor told her:
"There's a stigma in this country about mental illness; depression, anxiety, OCD, bipolar. They're hard to diagnose so people don't always appreciate that they're serious problems, but they are. Your illness is not who you're supposed to be. It's keeping you from who you're supposed to be. You're not alone. You're going to feel better. I promise."
And I believe her.
