Rainbow Tulip

one girl's thought pond

Projects!

Despite the sour mood around here for the past long while, some things have gotten done.

For instance, there was a sale on metal prints, so I ordered several to go on the living room walls, for after the painting is done. The picture above is a shot I got of Liam probably two Christmases ago now.  He was four years old, I think, when this photo was taken.

It’s not pretty, but during the day, the walls are tremendously brighter already.  That helps things a lot. I hope to work more on painting this next week.

And finally….crochet!
Neither of them are done yet and I need to get more yarn for the cream-colored one, but two blankets in the making!  Yay!  These work up fast when I devote a little time to them.

So, all is not completely bad around here.  In fact, life is pretty great, when I stop to think about it.

House Woes

Leave a Comment

So…the three week ultimatum I gave myself failed miserably.  I didn’t have the internal motivation to keep things up. However, I did decide that painting the living spaces (living room, kitchen, main hallway) a lighter color would help with the depression.  We had a dark brown accent wall that made the entire living room really dark.  It did help make the living space falsely appear larger, but I don’t think the trade-off was worth it.  I’ve already put a new coat of paint on most of the living room and it is already brighter.

So, I am in the process of painting the living spaces a shade of white.  I think it will be gorgeous when it is done, but I have a long way to go.  No photos of it in-progress….I’m too self-conscious about how little progress I have made just yet.  Especially since I started the project nearly two weeks ago…

Last week was exceptionally bad.  It was just a disaster.  I am trying to take better care of myself now and I am just writing last week off altogether.

This morning has been great so far…coffee, yoga, dried apricots as a snack, cheerful boys on the way out the door to school…and my plan for the day is to work the house for most of the day.  It will all be better when I feel like this home is really a home again instead of just a junk repository.  It will get there, and soon.

A new goal:  painted living spaces and a regular laundry routine by Thanksgiving, just in time to decorate for Christmas.

That’s all I’ve got for today.

Hi, I’m Caroline and I’m Depressed

Leave a Comment

It’s only really hit me in the last couple of weeks exactly how far I’ve regressed from the normal, function human being I used to be.

There was a time that I exercised. every. single. day. without. fail.  There was a time when I spent upwards of 45 minutes getting ready for the day, every day.  There was a time when I took pride in my appearance, a time when I had any pride at all.

I am in mourning for my ability to trust my own mind.  I’ve lost my ability to be self-sufficient.  There’s no wonder I spend many of my days in PJ’s and it’s no wonder that I rarely try to look nice.  I never aspired to be a housewife and stay at home mom without the ability to do anything outside the house job-wise, but here I am.

Here I am.  Here I am, depressed.  Try as I might, this is just not the lifestyle or the mental state I aspired to, at all.

I’m doing what I can to work myself out of this rut.  I am taking my medication relatively faithfully.  We decided our house is really dark on the inside with the brown accent wall and dark beige walls, so I am painting the living area white.  I actually made an effort this morning to look nice and be ready for the day before Jared left the house.  I get out and see friends whenever I have the opportunity to do so.  I’m letting Abby be the therapy dog she loves to be.

But, this whole depression thing….it’s a hard road.  It seems to be my mind’s default state.

I was complaining about not being stronger, mentally, to Jared the other day.  In his ever-present wisdom, he reminded me that my mind is strong….he reminded me that I would never have come back from any of those psychotic episodes if I weren’t strong enough to deal with this.  And on some level, I know he’s right.

I can’t think of many more painful things, though, than to not be able to trust one’s own mind.  My mind, on no less than six occasions throughout my lifetime, has proven that it will break under strain, that it isn’t trustworthy under duress.  It’s a horrible feeling that I struggle to put into words, to know that any traumatic event….even potentially minor ones….may throw me out of reality, briefly or for weeks.

I remember each and every triggering event with each previous episode.  At the time, each event seemed like it would topple the world as I knew it.

Now that I’ve had years and years and years of therapy, I know exactly what my specific trigger is and I know how to avoid it.  I’ve redefined and cut out relationships that were harmful to my psyche.  I know, deep down, that I have the power to avoid the psychosis.  Knowing it and processing it emotionally, though, are two entirely different things.

For now, I’m still in the depression stage.  I pray acceptance comes soon.

Time for more painting.  I need the lighter feeling the bright room will bring.

Notice: Three Weeks

Leave a Comment

This is a public notice to myself:  I’m giving myself three weeks to get my house in presentable shape.

This living space is regularly a disaster zone.  Stuff everywhere.  If I do this methodically in a slow and steady manner, this won’t be that hard.  It’s a time-consuming project, for sure.  I don’t even want to take “before” photos because the state of the place is that embarrassing to me.

In three weeks, though, I intend to be able to publish photos of this awesome house we call a home, and be proud of the place.  It’s time to tame the mess, for real.

Better get started.

Surprise, Postpartum Depression

Leave a Comment

Not that it’s really a surprise, because it isn’t a surprise at all, this postpartum depression, given my history of depression. This beautiful six month old sweetheart is just that: a sweetheart. His presence has changed our family life for the better and he has helped renew my faith in humanity and God. I am so so so happy and so blessed that he is here.

But my silly mind has sunk into a depression unlike any I’ve experienced in a really, really long time. Thankfully, we caught it early and I brought the issue to my psychiatrist, so I’ve got the appropriate treatment underway. I already feel better knowing that I’ve gotten help.

Life is good, no doubt, just like I said in my last post. I have wonderful people in my life and good things are happening.  I am able to intellectually process those facts. But, my interest in the things I like to do and the things I really have got to do– my photography, even simple things like daily household chores– my interest in those things has waned significantly to the point that I zone out in front of the TV for much of the day, only doing what I must to take care of the baby.

I knew things were going south for a couple of weeks before I admitted it to my doctor and I probably let the depression go longer than I should have let it progress. My inner self-talk has been telling me that I am worthless and that negative self-talk has gotten more and more persistent, to the point that I really have had a hard time countering that inner voice. That’s more the norm than anything else, but my self-esteem has been way, way worse than usual. Sleep has been broken and restless for weeks. Panic attacks have been a daily issue for much of the last week, in particular, along with feelings of helplessness. Things haven’t been this bad depression-wise, really, since 2011, probably.

For now, I just have to remember to take things a day at the time. I will make a schedule and stick to it. I will ignore those thoughts of self-worthlessness and counter them with things that make me happy: getting out the memory books and photo albums to remember favorite times in my life, taking new photos and yes, even working on housework as a distraction. That’s what it’s all about for now, distracting myself from the low self-esteem until those thoughts are negligible.

Postpartum depression is no joke and I know it’s not a sign of weakness, either. I’m thankful that I know myself enough to know when things are not right, I’m really thankful for my supportive husband, and I’m so glad that I’ve got experience with an antidepressant that works for me.

I’m hoping to see the light in my life again soon.