This is My Normal

This is going to be a heavy post. Likely a long one, too. Just wanted to warn you before you invested time you will never get back.

I suffer from depression. I've never made a secret of it. Okay, maybe never is an extreme. I haven't made a secret of it for the roughly the last 12 years or so. What I have made a secret, though, is the degree to which I suffer from it. It is debilitating and paralyzing. It is a dark, dark place that my soul resides on most days. And, unfortunately, this is my normal. It brings along with it a host of other party-goers - low self esteem, lack of self worth, an absence of close friendships, a shortage of drive and determination, and an overall malaise that pervades every secret corner of my existence.

I believe that almost everyone, even if you consider our friendship close, may likely regard this as a surprise or as me being overly dramatic. Trust me on this, I am not. This is my public "come to Jesus" moment here. On the outside, I am an outgoing, determined, independent, ball of energy. I am the party planner, the organizer, the project coordinator, the comedienne, the involved parent, the helper, the surrogate mom, the creative spark, the ___________ (fill in the blank with who you think I am). And, while I am those things, I am only them with extreme effort most days.

Yes, I am functional. Probably even highly functional comparatively. I function like this out of necessity; out of expectation - out of accept-ation - and I have for as long as I can remember. Because, let's face it, we live in a society that expects and accepts those that are all those things I am on the outside and none of which I am on the inside. Despite the huge strides in acceptance of things like depression as "common", we still label it as an "illness" that is frowned upon. But, the (medical) fact remains that issues such as depression, bi-polar disorder, etc. are caused by the body's inability to produce what it needs to on its own to maintain proper chemical/hormone balances. Diabetes is no different, so why isn't there a social stigma with that? Whether it's type 1 or type 2, the fundamental fact is that the body is not regulating insulin levels as it should. Does anyone say with disdain to the diabetic, "I don't know what your problem is. Just eat the cake and choose to not have it affect you. It's not that hard. I do it everyday."

But, that brings me to today. I am not functioning. I haven't been functioning. At least not as well as I should. Honestly, my proudest personal achievement in the last 2 months is that I haven't gone back to bed everyday after getting the kids off to school. Because that's what I normally do every year at this time. No, I'm not being sarcastic. It's the honest to God truth. This is my normal. Yes, I have good days, but they are few and far between at this time of year. Around June I'll get my happy back and it will generally reside here for about 3.5 months. I look forward to it but this is no way to live.

Today, I had hoped to change that. I finally called my doctor yesterday and said, "Look, I'm a freaking mess. I have bouts of happy but no joy. I have functionality but not livability." I was told that my doctor happened to have a cancellation "tomorrow" at 10:20, so let's get you right in. Awesome. I felt better. A bit. So, I got up this morning, and was, of course, feeling very optimistic and functional (that's the way it ALWAYS is when you finally get to see the doctor about an ailment, right?), got dressed (a milestone for me before 2pm), did my hair-makeup (another daily milestone), and off I went to the doctor. I arrived and checked in with the receptionist who looked at me blankly, and that's when the rapid downward spiral began. "Your appt is for tomorrow," she says, "March first." I'm at a loss. "When I made the appt yesterday, I was told that it was for today," I say. She shakes her head, "No, it's for tomorrow. I'm sorry for the inconvenience." She has no idea. I can't even look at her as I stuff my insurance card back into my wallet and into my purse and turn around to walk out. I'm crying before I even get out the door. I sob all the way home (not to the 3 places I had optimistically planned to stop at after my appt). I get why the mixup happened. 75% of the time March 1 is "tomorrow" when you're talking to someone on February 28. This year it is not. But it is a prime example of how I am different than many people. To most, they would be irritated, maybe angry; frustrated at the very least. I am broken. This reaction is not unusual. I'm not just having a bad day. This is my normal. And, on top of the brokenness is the knowledge that I lack the ability to "just change how I feel". The lack of power and control over one's own mood is something that's hard to describe. You know the supreme effort it takes to get out of bed to get a glass of water when you are sick, really, really sick, as a dog? You know how it takes every ounce of strength you have to function and you just collapse when it's over? That's the closest thing I can compare it to. The degree of helplessness is overwhelming and defeating and, honestly, for me, extremely embarrassing. Especially since I know that most people view me as someone who has her shit together. This is my normal. On my better days, I laugh it off (what else can I do?) and claim that I bring a whole new definition to the term "hot mess". Today, I am just a mess. Dressed and with my hair and makeup on, but still a mess.

But, this is the beginning of a journey (I hope). I do have a doctor's appt tomorrow. I will most likely be given some kind of drug to take (again). And, I'm going to try to be more honest about who I am. Am I an organizer and party planner and involved parent and helper and surrogate mom and project coordinator and comedienne and creative spark and _________? You bet your ass I am. And, I'm damn good at all those things, too. But, I'm also a girl that struggles most days to find real joy. I'm a girl who is broken on the inside most days. It's not what I'm satisfied with, though. It's not what I deserve. And I hope I can find a way out of the darkness. I hope I can find a way to opt out of the charade without feeling guilty or ashamed. Clicking "Publish Post" is the first step to a new normal.

PS. I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm not looking for pity. I'm not looking for the "I'm so sorry" said in a tone that intimates one's grief that I am not "whole". All of those responses, whether in this particular case or when offered to another, invite more shame and embarrassment to reside in the psyche of the person who is just trying to be who they really are. Honestly, I'm not looking for anything. I'm just seeking to be honest about who I am because it's been too long that I haven't been.

I Heart My Crockpot

I could sit for days, ok weeks or months, surfing the net and reading the blogs of women much more crafty and Betty Crocker-y than myself. They make all they're children's clothing, throw lavish 1st birthday parties with handmade decorations and favors and chair coverings, bake like nobody's business and still seem to have time to fit in professional photography and writing their blog. I, am not these women.

Yes, I like to sew. Yes, I like to make stuff. Realistically, if I could get paid for just sitting around and crafting on my own time schedule, I'd be seriously blissed out. But baking and cooking are not my thing. I'm good at it; I just don't necessarily enjoy it. That's a problem when the cook in the family (my husband) has to take a work schedule that has him working until 8 or 9 in the evening. Personally, I'd be willing to snack while I wait for him to come home and cook but the children are not. So, about a year or so ago, I became the cook in the household after over 15 years. It hasn't always been pretty. I admit to cereal nights on a more than rare occasion.

Anyway, the man is back to working a mostly regular schedule but the strangest thing has happened... he has ceased with the nightly cooking and it seems to have fallen on my shoulders. I, admittedly, would be happy eating the same 5-8 meals that I really like. The rest of the family would not. So, I try to come up with new stuff but it's really rather difficult because, generally, if I think it sounds good, at least half of the house doesn't. AND, I have no desire to stand over a stove for 3 hours making the perfect meal. I'm not one of those people that loves the people around them by cooking and feeding them. That's why I craft (read, you should feel loved when I give you a crocheted cozy for your cell phone/laptop/tv remote).

Anyway, to the point... I have a crockpot. I love my crockpot for the simple reason that I can put food in it, turn it on low, and craft for 6 hours (I wish) and then have a completed dinner. It all feels like I'm working some voodoo magic and that makes me giggle inside. So, today, I'm trying something new. Lasagna in the crockpot. Who knew? Seems so simple, I'm not sure why I didn't think of it before. It takes a bit more prep work but, really, if this turns out, I'm going to be over the moon. So far, it looks pretty tasty, so I'm sharing the recipe with you here. I've left it pretty vague because you can customize it as you wish. Who am I to judge if you like onions in your lasagna anyway?

Crockpot Lasagna

1 - 67 oz jar of spaghetti sauce (I use Prego Traditional)
1.25 pounds of meat (optional; I use ground turkey)
1 - 32 oz tub of ricotta cheese (you can substitute cottage cheese for a lower fat version)
2 cups grated cheese (mozarella or an italian blend)
1 box lasagna noodles

Brown the meat and then add sauce; mix thoroughly
In crockpot, layer as follows:
meat sauce
uncooked lasagna noodles (you can break them up so they fit properly)
ricotta cheese
grated cheese

Repeat layers two more times, top with a layer of meat sauce
Put the lid on your crockpot and rn on low.
Now you just let it sit for approximately 6 hours (don't try to speed it up and go for 3 hours on high; this is a slow cook type of dish). While you wait, go knit a blanket, make jewelry out of bottle caps, weave a rug, decoupage your breadbox and braid your daughter's hair with an eight strand braiding method.
When all that's done, enjoy!

PS. the pic is of a perfect piece of lasagna that I found on the internet because mine is still cooking and I have a rug to weave.