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Category: mental health

I’ll have a zoloft sandwich, please

I’ll have a zoloft sandwich, please

Day 275/365: The Stand
Image by ~jjjohn~ via Flickr

It’s safe to say I can’t stand depression.  I mean who does?  It sucks, sucks, sucks.  I know that it is a chemical tweak in my head, I know that things are better than they seem, I know that I won’t feel like this forever, but even with all that knowledge-it doesn’t hurt any less.

I have people who depend on me.  How extremely selfish of me to focus so much on me.  I need to pull up my bootstraps, as they say.  Or something like that…

How do people do it, I want to know.  It’s been months, and I do mean months of joints pain, muscles that won’t relax, muscle pain/burning and weakness, rashes all over my body, feeling like there is sludge or lead in my veins, so heavy, heavy how am I going to make it through the day again?  I ask God to help me.  Please help me.  And He does, sometimes.  Other times I’m guessing it’s something I need to figure out on my own.

Sometimes I feel like screaming at everyone around me (that would be family, who always has my back) YOU TRY AND DO THIS FOR 3 F*@#%ING YEARS WITH VERY LITTLE ‘DOWN TIME’ AND SEE HOW ‘NORMAL’ OR ‘YOURSELF’ YOU SEEM.  IT’S SO HARD TO BE IN PAIN/FATIGUE/SICK FEELING LIKE POISON OR SLUDGE RUNNING THROUGH YOUR VEINS/COMA SLEEPING/BURNING AND SO ON AND SO ON…  I know it’s hard on them too though.  It must suck to live with someone who is constantly in some form of pain or sickness.  It has to be tiring, and not very fun giving giving giving.  I hear this a lot “oh wait, why am I complaining to you when look at all you have to go through”.  No.  I WANT people to be able to vent to me.  I want my husband to tell me all about his shitty day and not feel guilty about doing it.  But if you see the bold print above, I must be throwing mixed messages out with my body language and mood.  I suck.  I haven’t ever said those words, it’s just pops up in my selfish little mind sometimes.  Wow, typing this out is cheaper than therapy!  Good thing, because the medical bills have drained us, we are broke.

The Big C tells me that it won’t always be this way and I wish I could believe him.  I tell him “I know” and give him a hug because he needs to hold on to that and believe it so he can keep on going.  This disease has really hurt the man that I love. He can’t stand to see me when I’m writhing in pain and there’s nothing he can do to help me.  At least, that’s what he thinks.  Just being there and holding my hand is helping me, I tell him that.  But he wants to ‘fix it’.  It drives him crazy.  If the shoe were on the other foot, I would feel the same way.  Helpless.  It tears him up and it hurts to see him that way.  Then I feel guilty.  When I think about it, this illness affects us in so many different ways, and offshoots of ways, a lot more complex than I thought.

My body has done some pretty awful and unbelievably painful things to me and each time I would think, it couldn’t get any worse, I have never felt such awful pain, suicide pain is how I heard someone describe it and that hits the nail right on the head. When your body is in pain in multiple places for extended periods of time, the kind of pain that’s a 10 on the pain scale, you’re in the hospital and they are slamming your IV with morphine or fentanyl or demerol because your blood pressure is through the roof due to pain, and even though you’re floating with so much narcotics running through your veins, there it is.  You can still feel it.  It’s like it’s a mocking you-I’m here to stay.  That’s suicide pain.  How do you stay positive???  How do you get up in the morning and hide the pain face from your kids??  How do you stay happy???  I try so hard, but I’m in a place now where I’m failing.  I’ve been there in that moment so many times, I NEVER would have guessed that my life would be like this.   I just really want/need one of those days where I wake up and feel like the old Chelle.  It’s amazing how much that gives to me just having a day, or even a few hours of feeling normal, it keeps me going for weeks.  Then I think, I WILL go into remission.  And, sometimes I just need to be reminded what normal feels like so that I can start being positive and work towards that.

The Bean is eating her cereal, late, and she is smiling and singing Twinkle Twinkle, in her own way which is totally amazing.  Everything falls back into place now.  She is my reason.  For everything.  Tomorrow will be a better day.

Special thanks to JJohn @ Flickr for the most beautiful flowers



OK, I’m getting pretty darn sick of not s l e e p i n g.  It makes me weird, or weirder and it makes me cranky. And I tend to do little menial things that no one in their right mind would do if they had the time.  Like getting the dirt out of the bottom cracks in the designs on kitchen cabinets with q-tips?  No one ever does that.  So if you can’t sleep, and you’ve sworn off of picking up the computer (thereby probably blowing your chances of any sleep at all) put the q-tips down and back away.  Back away from the q-tips.  I wonder how many hits this is going to get from people with ear issues who are Googling q-tips.  Then they get this, and their like, I can’t stand to read her, it’s a good thing my ears are messed up, could you imagine having to have to listen to her?? ahhhhh hahhh.  I’m going to put on some coffee.  Then I don’t know what.  Maybe I’ll take some pics of the snow!  It snowed here last night and just a bit stuck.

Until next time (after a nap)

Depression=self-imposed isolation

Depression=self-imposed isolation

It’s been a while since I have written anything at all. Other than this blog I have waaaay too many social networking sites and photo sites and mom sites and anything-you-can-think-of sites. They all have pretty much just been sitting there in my browser. I don’t read much anymore, I don’t watch tv, I’m not even sleeping right anymore. I either have insomnia or I can’t wake up. I know that this is depression. I just don’t know how to snap out of it.

I have been so down that I didn’t want to live before. I don’t feel that way now, I just don’t seem to care and that’s not like ‘me’. The real me. The real Michelle is happy, goofy, always laughing or making someone else laugh at her, chatty, phone-talkin, computer typin, dancing, going out places, shopping, ms. make-up face, etc. I am the anti-me. The bizarro Michelle (Seinfeld? ha).

I want my old life back and I can’t seem to let go of that lately. I will be in the car with The Big C going anywhere and I’ll see women walking and I wonder-where are they going? And they are walking there? I wanna do that! Do they still work? Are they happy? I bet they are not sick and in pain. This is not healthy to be wondering about stranger’s lives and feeling jealous of their health. I don’t feel jealous of the health of anyone I know, just strangers and the people that I don’t like, ha! I’m like, ‘it’s not fair that so-and-so; the most despicable, narcissistic, worst parent in the world can just jump up in the morning and go to work and go on vacations to other countries and go camping and yadda yadda yadda. ( I can’t stand this woman for good reason, she is awful to her children) And here I am, a woman with a great family who recently graduated from college after going back to school as an adult. I finally got to work in the field that I always wanted, to help and care for people acheter viagra. I am still really pissed that I was robbed of that, I was only in the field for a year before it hit me. I had a healthy social life. We as a family would go camping, hiking etc. I loved to go shopping, gambling, dancing, traveling, driving, living life!!!! I want that woman back so bad it hurts. And it’s not going to happen. There is no cure. I almost typed out, this is it. But I don’t want this to be it. I’m still in my jammies laying on my bed feeling sorry for myself. I’m usually more likely to be giving out advice to someone else who is sick like me, and making them laugh or something really goofy site.

How do I snap out of this? It’s just not going away and I can’t be that fun to be around to the people who are stuck here living with me. And I need to call my bff. I’m 41 and I just said bff. Maybe I am coming back. I need to close the computer and get on the phone.

Until next time,


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