What you might have missed because you were busy breaking New Year’s Resolutions and watching football instead of paying attention to me 1/15

It was a seriously crazy week:

I announced the winner of the Curlformer give-away. I burned an old dresser and spent HOURS making a kick ass video (in which I Nickelbacked you) of me destroying the damn thing with a sledge-hammer. I suffered such bad insomnia that not even Angry Birds could put me to sleep. I also had a mental break down and shared a fraction of what it’s like for me in The Deep Dark Hole, where I found out that I am far from alone in my battle with depression.

I read an inspiring and very honest blog post by A Motivated Mama regarding weight issues. Brittany Gibbon’s husband, Andy, made me cry.

My Sissy and I went out for lunch and got our toes done to distract me while my meds kicked in and I threw a Rock Band Party that didn’t get canceled due to The Deep Dark Hole…I call that winning.

The Artist asked me the other day how I felt about people who don’t like me…my friend sent me this on Facebook – it explains it all:

 

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The Deep Dark Hole

I’ve been dancing around it and dipping my toe in it. Letting it take a piece of my day here and there. I’ve been careful to keep my hair done (thanks Curlformers), and I’ve been wearing a bit of make-up. I even put on regular jeans, instead of yoga pants/pajama jeans, when I left the house. I’ve bought several pairs of cute new earrings (thank you retail therapy?). I picked up some art supplies and played a bit with metal. I’ve checked things off my to-do list. I was ‘good’. I was hanging on…..until today.

Today…I plugged my nose. I got on my tippy toes and I dived in head first.

I snapped at The Artist for jamming the key into the mailbox (for the 50-billionth time) and when we finally got to our Homeschool playgroup I busted into tears. I left the kids with my friends¹, told The Artist I was sorry, and I went back to my car. I drove to the end of the parking lot and I cried.

I cried, and cried, and cried.

I sent a few texts to let people know that I was ‘okay’ NOT ‘okay’, but there was nothing to do. They sent texts back being supportive, loving, and kind.

And here I am at the bottom of The Deep Dark Hole. I feel alone, scared, worthless, fat, ugly, sad, horrified, untrustworthy, terrified, and then I feel….nothing.

I made a doctor appointment for next week (thanks Nathan and My Sissy for encouraging me to do that). The doctor is going to try to get me in tomorrow. I hope they can help me. I’m tired of The Deep Dark Hole.

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¹A special *thank you* to my friends and family for being an amazing support group: taking care of my kids, letting me know that I’m not alone, telling me to ignore ‘The Voice’, telling me that you love me, and just being ‘there’. Thank you.

***If you or someone you know suffers from depression or mental illness please get help. We deserve silver ribbons.

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Dry as the Mother Freakin’ Sierra

*Warning: this post is a raw and deep part of me. It isn’t being posted for criticism, encouragement, or really any feedback. I’m posting it because it’s part of what I would normally censor. Read it or don’t. It’s up to you.

I quit drinking last weekend. Mostly for weight loss reasons. Truth be told, ONLY for weight loss reasons. I’ve been sober for *just about* a week and according to ‘some’ the pleasure center in my brain is really fucking mad.

I’ve spent the last few days in The Deep Dark Hole¹, thinking of nothing but my faults and my shortcomings – and holy shit there are a lot of them.

I’ve even gone so far as to catalog the items in my house that I’ve wasted money on. You see, I’m a waste². I’m not ‘worthless’ or ‘nothing’ like I originally felt. I’m actually a suck of resources. I’m a drain.

I made the list to prove my point. My list is seven and a half, handwritten pages of wastefulness. It’s not even itemized, most items are grouped together – like “clothes I won’t wear/fit into, beading supplies, vacuums, bags, and games we will never play”…and my sober self looks at that list and fills herself with hate.

I hate the sharp images of reality.

I hate looking at myself without the fuzzy comfort of a good buzz.

I miss feeling like I could take on the world.

I miss feeling sexy, witty, creative, and fun. I miss loving people just as they are and being accepting of their ‘shortcomings’ (Srsly…their shortcomings? Who am I to talk?)

The original goal was 60 Sober Days of Summer…I’m not committed.

*cheers*

¹Granted I don’t *need* to quit drinking to fall into The Deep Dark Hole. The Deep Dark Hole just seems so much more real and scary when I’m sober.

²Nathan has put up plenty of arguments against these feelings and has been loving/supportive through my fall into The Deep Dark Hole – like always (F.Y.I.)

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