Everyone I Ever Was and Everyone I Ever Will Be

Those things are so addictive. Or maybe I'm just weird. :-)

So now you get to be subjected to my random babbling! Aren't you lucky.

Tomorrow I think I'm going to finish up my first draft of Redemption, so that is awesome. We went and bought some lumber today to finish up the garage (yay tax return!) And then I worked on the checkbook and realized that I switched two numbers and we actually have 15 dollars until payday, not 115. (boo math skills!)

You can tell it's spring, because the ants are trying to move back into our kitchen.

I am taking my attempt to focus on more positive things seriously. I got rid of some of my horror books that, while good, put me in a depressed mood or freaked me out in a "the entire human race sucks" way. And I'm actually starting to buy 'chick lit'. I think Ashley believed I was lost the last time we were in a bookstore together. ;-) Not that I don't still love my werewolves and zombies, but I'm going more for sarcasm/slightly dark/funny than soul-crushingly depressing.

Which of course means I have an idea for a really dark horror novella. But I figured out how to work on it-- I'm going to write scenes while on car trips, and that way there's always something distracting at the end of it, and I don't spend too much time at once immersed in that headspace. Win-win.

I think sometime soon I'm going to organize my tags better. Have a tag for each one of my novels, go through and have a bunch more specific tags rather than have 300 things lumped into 'random'.

I'm going to do one more "30 Days of" thing, I think. I do like that format; it reminds me to actually post more than once every two weeks. This theme-- cybercasting!

And now, to bed.

apocalypticbob linked to a really fantastic essay on depression. It was just what I needed to read, to the point that I'm tempted to print it out and plaster it all over my walls. :-)

I am going to fight you every day of my life, regardless of whether you're whispering your poison to me, or to someone else. Because, while I know that I can't stop your whispers, neither I, nor anyone else, should pay heed to your rotten, filthy, hateful lies. And you aren't going to win.

But today I've gone six months without self-harming. Happy New Year, indeed. :-)

((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.

I went off my antidepressants as quickly as possible once I found out I was pregnant. I know logically that this is a good thing. It just doesn't always feel that way.

The thing is, I'm not quite sure what's going on with my brain. Is it some kind of clinical depression? Does run in the family a little. Or is it more of a situational depression, something I can get over by changing my surroundings/mode of thinking/doing something other than drugging myself?

Evidence would seem to suggest the latter. I get out of the house, I go places, I don't get hit by this nasty sense of "you are worthless and everything you've ever tried to accomplish doesn't work out and what do you mean writer, all you are is a dime a dozen self-published idiot who the hell are you kidding you suck". Inner voices. They're fun. Anyway. I've tried to keep track of when it hits. It's most always when I'm at home with Kaylee, and she's in a fussy mood. So I solve this problem by-- getting ready to have another kid. Heh.

I've figured out what the main trigger is, anyway. Been working to avoid that situation. It's kinda difficult at times, because 1) I don't drive (long story short; other people terrify me and that makes me a nervous/bad driver), 2) basically the only friends I have are online. Which translates into time in the house with a fussy baby if I want to socialize with other adults.

Trying to work out ways to fix this. Put in my name as a wannabe-volunteer at the homeless shelter; they're running into problems with opening and so I haven't gotten a callback. Used to be active in the theater, until I got a joyful lesson in the difference between "friends" and "people who put up with you". Small towns. They're also fun. When Chris is at work evening shift, I head over to my parents' house so I can be around other people. That helps.

Writing helps. Haven't been able to do much of that lately. Cowriter busy and my brain won't focus very easily when I'm doing stuff alone. Bouncing around a fanfic idea to help me get through the dry spell-- just a one-shot, nothing I can try to publish, so no pressure involved. Might or might not work. We'll see. Also thinking about posting some of those little wordcount-things in my LJ at least once a month for my main projects. Maybe seeing something laid out in a concrete way like that will be a good encouragement. Or, in the case of not enough progress, a good kick in the rear.

And this was just supposed to be a really short "dumb brain chemistry" grumble. But I do feel better now. As I said, writing helps.