Down, but not giving up!

   Anyone who has dealt with depression themselves or watched a loved one battle this demon, knows it's a bitch. I've watched family members and friends face-off against this monster most of my life. Some win, with a lot of help, and for some its a losing battle, because they can't/won't ask for help. I, myself, take medications to keep my head straight. It's not depression but it's a mental issue none-the-less, which was affecting me as a mother/wife/friend and person. I needed help and finally realized it was time to get it when I saw fear in my child's eyes as he looked at me. Never again, was the thought I had when I admitted it was time to fix my shit.

   I'm not home. That's not true. I'm home with my husband and son. My family. I'm not home with the family I came from not created, if that makes sense. Without going into a lot of details, my dad is facing some health issues which seem to have sent him into another downward spiral of depression. A family member, who does live just miles from my parents, saw my dad recently and noticed he is not taking care of himself. Rather than stopping to talk to him and ask how he's doing, this family member went about their business, barely pausing to say hello.
   Am I angry? You fucking bet I am! This family member is well aware of the struggles my father has had with depression. But instead of growing up and putting the past behind them, they insist on blanketing themselves in the past, holding on to it like a shield that justifies any and all slights they now do to my parents, out of spite or out of plain indifference, it doesn't matter. At this time, in my family's life, we can't choose where we live, the Navy dictates that for us. I do the best I can, living about 500 miles away, but for fucks sake, I have family that live less than 5 miles away and do nothing!

   Speaking of family. Who the fuck says "I've been depressed before too, but I still washed my ass"?!? An insensitive, self-righteous snot, that's who! I've seen people, I've been people, so depressed that eating, showering, even getting out of bed is a struggle. It's so hard to do. It doesn't need to be belittled and looked down upon by someone else claiming they understand depression and that's not depression! Fuck you! You were lucky, and you didn't sink down as deep as this person is sinking. Try tossing a lifeline of hope instead of judgement and condemnation!

   I don't know if I can help my dad. I don't know if he wants help. But I do know, I'm not judging him. He's got a plateful of shit sitting in front of him to digest and it seems to only get fuller and fuller as days go by.
    I want him to know, he's not alone. I'm not there by his side, but I'm in his heart.

   Sometimes, being a grown up really fucking sucks. Being a grown up far from home, when issues with parents arise, sucks even more. Knowing you're really the only one who wants to fight to save a loved one, but you're not physically there to make a difference....hurts like hell. But I'm not giving up!

Let's go old-school revenge for a (hypothetical) moment

   It's kind of funny how my mind works. Sometimes. Other times, it's fucken scary.

   For the most part, I've left the evil and ugly, vindictive side of me in the past. My husband, gods love him, still married me, in spite of having been there for one of my ugliest (and perhaps drunken) vindictive rants. In all fairness, he was not warned to keep my phone away from me. *story time: I as at a to-remained-unnamed military base with my bestie and we had been drinking, a lot. My husband was not my husband at the time, but he was my go-to "I'm drunk and need a place to crash can you come get me?" phone call. He came and got me, and my bestie handed him my phone, but failed to tell him why she had it. She had it because my recent ex-fiance had kept calling me and I was being less than nice to him. (I have 2 ex-fiances. M was my high school to college boyfriend. R was my fiance while I was in basic training to AIT for the Army, I broke up with him after finding out he was a lying cheat. Well, actually they were both lying cheats, he was just a really bad one and I figured it out a lot quicker than I did with M.) So, I got my phone back, R called and I let loose...for over 10 minutes I ranted and raved in a way only a totally drunk, heartless bitch can do: guilt-free! My now-husband? Well, he was driving and occasional said "I'm glad I'm not him."

   Only once have I ever really entertained a revenge plot against M and his current soon-to-be wife. Whom just happens to be my former best friend of 5 something years, before I left New York and almost all of the people I knew behind. They are together and are perfect for each other. But there's a deep, hidden part of me that only once has ever made itself known. This former friend has 2 sons, which I would babysit when we first met, who just turned 18. In the sickest and most twisted part of my fucked up mind, I'd have to be single and not have a child of my own if this were ever to happen, a perfect revenge against them both for the mindfuck they did to me when I first left NY and the months that followed: I'd date one of her now 18-year old sons!

   It's a beautiful kind of fucked in my head! It's the kind of evil that only a really ugly and awful person could see the amazing beauty in.

   Of course, I'm married and I have Squishy and zero desire to do anything to either of my exes. But for one, unguarded moment my thoughts got dark and my brain said "Hey, you know what'd be really, really evil..?" and I followed the train of thought for those 15-45 seconds and then come out from it and realized "Nah". At 34, I might have to put too much effort into it all. Way more than I have to now as a happily married woman!

   Everyone has those secret revenge fantasies. Sure, not everyone admits to them. Even fewer will blog about them. But I'm trying to be a better person than I used to be and in being that better person I have to be in touch with the very worst version of myself. The version that would think going after an innocent 18-year old kid just to hurt his mom and stepdad-to-be would be an acceptable and even good idea. I know I'm not that person anymore, but it's kind of a comfort to know she's still in there, buried deeply as she is, in case someone ever really needs a good mental fuckover!

My husband...the party pooper.

   Apparently my husband has no sense of humor when it comes to family bonding that may or may not involve a possible crime. It's not like a murder pact or anything like that, I was simple hypothetically, suggesting a drunk accident befalling someone.

   All of a sudden my husband is all "I can't have you planning a felony" and "you can't even joke about that" and "what about our son? what happens to him if you're in jail?" like he actually thinks I'd get caught! Where's the faith, the love and the commitment?!

  Geesh! That's the last time I tell him anything before I call him from jail!

 Almost 5 years of marriage and this is the thanks I get? I wasn't even asking him to participate in anything! Well...I guess I know who I'm NOT calling if I need to suddenly bury a body. Nice to know who you can really and truly count on in this world.

  Next time, I'm adding "and we'll always help each other get rid of the body of evidence" in my wedding vows. If he can't say that, then we're just not meant for each other afterall.

*the previous has been written under a medicated state and should not be taken seriously by anyone without a sense of humor. however, if you have a sense of humor and you read this, please laugh and tell my husband it's a joke! To my husband: I should not be awake still and this blog post proves why the voices in my head make for bad company when left unsupervised*

Pruning the family tree

   Well, it seems like the time has come to do some spring cleaning. But it's winter, you might be saying to yourself. And you would be correct, but I'm finding myself ass-deep in the winter blues so what better way to cheer myself up than some soul searching spring cleaning?

   This isn't just any ordinary spring cleaning, this is literally, cutting some dead weight off the ole family tree. See, I've got some real "winners" in my family and only recently have I been truly exposed to their true colors and I'm realizing I don't need that kind of ugliness in my life. What's better is, if I don't contact them I don't hear from them 95% of the time. It's like there's a force field around my hometown that prevents people who live inside of it from remembering about the people on the outside of it. And I've finally reached my breaking point. I can't and I won't be a "when it's convenient" only family member anymore. I know I'm not perfect about calling people, but dammit  if I was in the hospital or Nixon was in the hospital, I'd fucking call people! And I wouldn't try to keep a secret for 6 goddamned years and then get pissed and tell more lies when the truth came out! I don't tell lies that affect the whole family!

   Sure, everyone tells lies. I've had this same discussion with my 4-year old. Everyone lies: there are big lies, little lies and all kinds of lies in between. It takes a strong person, a person with integrity, to admit the truth when confronted and caught in a lie. Evidently integrity is not a strong suit in my gene pool. I'm changing that with Nixon.

  To me I'd rather spend my time with family who love and value me and my family. Not feel entitled to my time and visits from us. Entitlement is a serious epidemic in this country and I refuse to feed it! I have many friends and family who I keep in touch with through facebook, Skype and email because there are so many miles between us. Is it a perfect solution? NO, by no means no, but the efforts are being made and all parties appreciate the efforts being made. Telling me your life is "too busy to deal with this" when "this" is a family member who is not trouble is disgusting! To sweep something under the rug because it's not happy or nice, is how certain family members have become the way they are *cough, pothead,cough*. But what do I know? I'm just a troublemaker/problem who lives miles away.

   And the lies told haven't just hurt me, they've hurt other family members and friends as well. I'll openly admit, I am not perfect. I'm flawed, I've told my share of lies but I have never told a lie that led to a family member's depression. I've ruined my own mental health by my own actions and I've said harmful things to family members, but my child is not a pawn I use to hurt people!

   The saddest part of all of this is, when the whole situation first came to light and I confronted my family, I was told to give it time for "prayers". After these "prayers" the decision was to "leave things as they are and let it go". In other words, "god" doesn't care enough to let the truth come out. And certain family members wonder why I find no comfort in prayer or their faith....

this is my head without my meds....it's only funny after-the-fact

   I've made mention of needing and being on meds more than a few times. Perhaps I should explain what they are doing for me, by showing what I'm like without them. My brain is a special kind of fucked up. I can't even regulate stress properly. I need medication to do that. While most people get anxious and ulcers from too much stress in their lives, I get fits of rage and have epic tantrums over total nonsense! Yep, like I said, a special kind of fucked up.

   I've known for a few weeks that I've needed to get back on my meds and try a lower dose because my previous dose was having me in a conversation while not at all present. Mac had asked me more than once, as I looked directly at him as he talked to me, where exactly I was. The sad thing? I had no idea. I didn't know what he was saying or what I was thinking about.

    A little bit ago, before I went back on my meds and after I already had requested an appointment to get back on them as my issues were already glaringly obvious, I had a bad night. It was one of those night that, if I were a sane person, would have been a normal night. However since I was currently not sane, it was not a normal night.
    I was loading the dishwasher and having a bitch of a time. For some reason nothing wanted to go in properly. Instead of realizing it was me who was loading it wrong, I ended up yelling at the dishes for not loading themselves correctly! I mean full blown bitch-fest at the dishes. Shit like "You are a fucking spoon, you go here and you fucking stay there you stupid mother fucker! Why do you think you belong with the forks? Don't you know that's how sporks are made? WE ARE NOT A SPORK-MAKING FAMILY!" My coffee mugs touched and rattled against each other when the top drawer of the dishwasher moved. Instead of re-positioning the cups, I told them to "SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LOUD BITCHES AND GET IN LINE ALREADY!" Clearly I was not a moment too soon in asking for my meds again.

    I'm on a very low dose of Prozac to keep my anxiety at bay. I have had panic attacks in the past. Those fucking suck! Really, really, really suck! I blame trying to plan a wedding for my panic attacks. My body got a taste for them during that very short period of my life.
   The other drug I'm on is called topamax. It's a neurological drug that isn't usually given out for mental health issues, but because of my stress to rage issue my doctor wanted me to try it. It was a good choice because it doesn't leave me feeling drugged (once I'm adjusted to the dose properly), I sleep really well at night (I suffer from insomnia and restless sleep), I'm not having stressed rage outbursts and I'm still normal emotionally. It's a win on all fronts!

    I will, occasionally, miss the random bullshit-induced outbursts I was prone to because sometimes they were funny. I mean, yelling at the cat for eating her food wrong?!?! That's funny! How would I know if she was eating it right or not. And this was directed to the cat who was once on Prozac herself, you'd think I'd be more sympathetic to a fellow mentally-impaired creature, right? Nope, you'd be wrong! My outbursts had no sympathy.
 
    I'm sleeping better but eating like shit. Did I mention that side effect? My taste is off and my appetite is gone. I can look at the fridge and see an entire fridge full of food and nothing I want to eat. Mac is helpful about making me find something to eat, but I still end up losing weight in the beginning. The first time I was on topamax I lost over 10 pounds in about a month. Good news was I was trying to lose those pounds in the first place and I've kept them off ever since. Bad news is most of it was from my boobs and it never came back. Fucking boob weight is always the first to go.
    Another side effect of topamax, this one is frustrating for me and anyone who is one the receiving end of it, causes me to lose the ability to complete a train of thought. This happens about 45 minutes after I take my dose for the day. I'll be in the middle of a sentence and all of a sudden the words coming out of my mouth stop making sense. I'll take a deep breath, try again, get frustrated, take another breath, say "fuck it" and walk away. Without completing my thought. That's usually my sign to go to bed.

   I'm a crazy-case that knows I need help. I'm not afraid to get help because, I hate having to admit this, on fuckmylife more than one occasion, Nixon has apologized to me after I flipped my shit in front of him for no reason! Talk about feeling like a pile of failing shitbag of a mother! He's apologizing to me, so I'll be quiet and calm again, like I had done to my dad on many a-day-after-drunken-night. Yes, I realize there's a difference, but the point is, in order to be the parent my father wasn't I had to see the problem I had and get help. So I did.
   Pride has no place in parenthood if you want to do it right.