Everyone I Ever Was and Everyone I Ever Will Be

Kaylee just ran up to me, bouncing and giggling. I asked her what was going on, and she yelled,

"They all float down here!"


And now Chris is teaching her how to say "Beep beep, Richie".

Been married for six years now. :-)

To celebrate, we (Chris and I, the kids, mom, and Devin) headed to the Oklahoma Aquarium and then for late lunch/early dinner we went to Joe Momma's, which has absolutely awesome pizza. Devin ordered The Incinerator, and somehow managed to get through about half of it without running for a pitcher of milk.

And the waiter recommended a good place to get tattoos. ((I am trying to get my courage up so that whenever we can manage to save the money, I can get a small one))

((because what fun is an entry about depression if you can't use a dramatic Simon and Garfunkel lyric for the title?))

So for those of you who don't know-- which is most everybody, because I went into Hermit Mode about it again-- I'm back on the Cymbalta. I was having an episode every day, and though I tried all of the coping strategies I'd been using while I was pregnant (driving somewhere, going on a walk, listening to music) nothing helped.

I wasn't going to tell anybody that it was back. I struggled to keep from letting Chris know for the first couple of weeks after Ian was born-- in the weeks leading up to his birth, my hormones were apparently wonky enough that it kept the depression at bay, and I thought I was 'cured' and told him so. He was really happy for me, and I didn't want to spoil that. So I chalked up any crying as just being tired with a new baby. Then the suicidal ideation came back while he was at work, so I ended up calling mom at 5:30 a.m. She asked if Chris knew what was going on, I told her no, and she gave me the verbal equivalent of a smack on the back of the head.

A lot of wanting to keep it hidden was the denial. If I could just deal with it myself, get a handle on things with no help from anyone else or any medication, then maybe what I have isn't actually depression, isn't really that bad and I don't have to be terrified that I've passed this unlucky number in the genetic lottery on to my kids.

And also, Chris is nervous about that kind of medication. Due to my experience with Lexapro, he worries about side effects, especially if the Cymbalta stops working in its current dosage and I have to increase what I take or switch meds altogether. Of course, my constantly-depressed state interpreted that worry as "I don't want you to resort to meds, and if you do I'm going to think you're weak and lose respect for you". Yay twisted mindsets. I finally talked to him about that in the middle of an episode, and he said, "Even if that was what I think-- you're hurting. Fuck what I think. Take the medicine." I started back on it that night.

So he knew, and mom knew, but I kept putting off telling anyone else. But something naamah_darling said the other day reminded me of why I started talking about this in the first place.

"That's why even though it sometimes sucks, I write about this shit as honestly as I can. The being bipolar, the body image issues, everything. Because the thing that helped me the most was knowing I was not alone. Conveniently, that's the part that I am good at giving back to other people. Nobody should have to feel alone with this crap."

I was helped so much by looking around online and seeing that other people were dealing with this, too. So here's some of what it's done, the good and the bad.

I nearly stopped writing for a while. I did stop sending material to publishers and agents, because what my Normal Brain would've interpreted as, "This project isn't right for these people; try again with someone else", my Depressed Brain took as "This book sucks and you suck and the people you sent it to are all laughing at you because again, you suck". The sole good side was that I discovered I actually like self-publishing through Lulu. I don't deal well with airplanes or interacting with a lot of strangers, and while I love reading accounts on my friends-list from people who're published and doing book tours and stuff, I know that isn't something I'm looking for. I like my little corner; it's the introvert in me. ;-)

I've put Chris through a heck of a lot that I wish I hadn't. On the good side of that, I'm getting better at actually talking things out instead of just pretending nothing's wrong. Used to be that if I couldn't make a joke out of it, I wouldn't mention it at all. That's slowly changing.

I lost a lot of the first few months of my daughter's life, because I couldn't even think straight. There is no good side to that.

I've only had a couple of mild episodes since I went back on the Cymbalta; no suicidal impulses. I'm hoping that lasts.

Since he was several days late and my doctor was getting a little concerned, I was induced at 4 in the morning on May 25. But everything went fine, and Ian was born at 3:09 in the afternoon. :-)




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So I'm working out a list of "Things to Get Done Before Ian's Born":


1) Put In the Darkness Find Me up on my website.

2) Finish the decorative paintwork on the upstairs bookshelves.

3) Complete a revised edit for both Jia's Charms and its sequel.


I just got one thing-- rewrite the solely-my-character parts of Eight Ruby Slippers for Charlotte in the first person-- done tonight. :-) And Chris and I found a wall-mounted pot rack for a good price, and he also built a shelf out of scrap lumber and hung it on the kitchen wall, so we gained some cabinet/counter space and were able to reorganize the kitchen a couple of days ago. Another checkmark.

So, three things to get done before late May. I think I can handle that.

So I run into the rental store to pick something out. Get back out to the car, and there's this:

Chris: "So what'd you find?"
Me: "It's called How to Be a Serial Killer."
Chris: "You do know we're on a watch list now."
Kaylee: *cackles maniacally*
Chris: "And that was your influence."
Me: "Guilty."

It's been snowing steadily since about 11 a.m. On his way to work, Chris went into the ditch-- he wasn't hurt and the car wasn't damaged, but it freaked him out a little bit and he called to tell us not to drive anywhere unless it's absolutely necessary.

Time to make some hot chocolate, I guess. :-)

OMG. So Chris is in Kaylee's room with her tonight and I'm in our bedroom, and the baby monitor's on and I'm just about to go to sleep when I hear this laugh come over the monitor. Creepiest. Laugh. Ever.

We've picked up conversations and whatnot on this thing before, but GAH. brb, off to check the house for gremlins.

Freaking baby monitors.

From a little trail we walked around on yesterday:

So Chris and I headed out at about 1 in the afternoon to go run some errands and whatnot. Then he drops me and Kaylee off at my parents' to visit for a while and goes to work.

Cut to 7:45 tonight. Mom drives us back to the house-- and we see the door standing wide open.

We back out of the driveway and I call the police. Two squad cars arrive in about five minutes or so, and the cops go through the house. They, fortunately, didn't find anybody. I go through it afterwards, while they're still here, to check if anything's out of place. ((as dad said, if anyone had come in, the computer would be gone)) Nothing.

Figure it must be that the door didn't quite latch and the wind blew it open, or that Chris and I did that wonderful comedy of errors where he locks the door and I unlock it a few moments later.

We thanked the cops and they left, and now the cats are wandering around the house sniffing everything. Two of them are, anyway. I know I won't see Daisy for another five or six hours yet. Thank goodness we have a screen door.

Anyway, I suppose this should reassure me, that the door was standing open for about seven hours and nobody came in. I'm still pretty sure I'm going to stay up until Chris gets home.