Giveaway: It Sucked and then I Cried

I discovered dooce.com and Heather Armstrong the day she posted the photo of Leta’s birth. That one small post captured me and I spent the next several days between work and home life reading the blog from the very beginning. I loved every single post. I’d never thought going forward from there that her writing would effect me as much as it did.

When she started suffering from depression, and OPENLY wrote about it, I would read the posts and say WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HEAD!? The words she spoke, the symptoms she had, the feelings that she was expressing, they were all things I had felt, suffered, hid and ran from for much longer than I can remember. There have been times that I’ve started to feel that way again, and I go back and read those posts and they somehow remind me of how far I’ve come since then, and that there is always light on the other side of that dark, deep tunnel of despair.

I know that I’m not the only person she’s touched with her writing so when I went to her reading and signing for It Sucked and Then I Cried: How I Had a Baby, a Breakdown, and a Much Needed Margarita I immediately thought of getting a second copy to give away here. I know that quite a few of my readers have had similar experiences with the disease and if reading her thoughts has helped any of you as much as it’s helped me, I think you will appreciate this book.

The book itself is basically passages pulled straight from her blog, although some of them seem to have been expounded on a bit. Now I have a convenient, hard back covered way to read through these passages while sitting on the toilet trying to get five minutes of peace from the ALWAYS TALKING NEVER STOPPING ten year old.

AND! YOU CAN TOO!

I’m giving away a signed copy to one of you. All you have to do is comment here and say hi, tell me about your experience with depression, just say I WANT THE BOOK, or take a few minutes to tell me how awesome I am. I don’t really care what the comment says, you just have to get one in to enter and use a VALID EMAIL ADDRESS so I have a way to contact you. You have till next Wednesday, April 8th at midnight to enter. I will write down the name of all the commenters (one entry per person), put them into a hat and pull one out. Seems more fun than those silly randomizer things. I’ll made a video of it or something too just to make it MORE EXCITING! I’ll post the winner Thursday or Friday so make sure to check back then.

Also, if you’d like to tell others about the contest, feel free just don’t be spammy about it. Your blog readers and twitter followers will appreciate it.

So go forth! Comment! Enter! Discuss! AWAY!

Just Like A Tuesday.

At dinner tonight Cassidy asked about the relationship between cat and human years. I didn’t really know but I assumed that the general 7 years used for dog life would be close so Cassidy determined that KC was 70 years old. Her jaw dropped and she exclaimed that, “OMG KC IS REALLY OLD!” So I told her, “YEAH! Remember that next time you feel like chasing her around the house like a lunatic!” Then I told her that we’re really lucky that KC is still alive and with us because 10 is actually getting up there for a cat.

The conversation eventually turned to death and how it would feel to not have her around anymore which turned to:

Cassidy: I’d probably cry.
Me: I’d probably lose it, like, mentally. Seriously.
Ben: So it would be like… a Tuesday.
Me: I hate you.
Ben: *grin*
Me: And I’m totally blogging that later.

The ability to laugh at Ben making fun of my mental state is the best part of having a “normal” mental state.

And for the record, after doing some research I realized that KC is actually only 56 years old. Assuming she doesn’t get any fatter, or lazier, or bitchier, I think she still has a few good years in her.

Snap, crackle, pop.

OKAY!

My dad has pointed out three times now, once in a comment and once in a voicemail and then again later on the phone, that I haven’t been updating ‘that blog of mine’ for a long time so HERE I AM! YAY! You can send thanks to my dad. He likes steak, sailing the high sea and having his finger pulled.

That last post was written at the tail end of a really bad downward mental swing. Sometimes I get tired of the “numb” feeling I get while on Lexapro. It’s hard to explain what I mean other than I don’t feel like I’m FEELING things as strongly as I should. It’s good not to be upset at small things and to be able to rationally think through decisions beforehand but there are times when I feel like I should be… experiencing more feeling than I am about something. So I rationalize with myself that stopping the Lexapro will somehow help.

And I’m always wrong.

Stopping the medicine NEVER helps. For the first week I’m great. Steady and calm. Then I get this manic time. Time when I’m still feeling UP but then I can REALLY feel the up. I get this ridiculous burst of energy and spend hours organizing my makeup by brand and color. Then the cans in the pantry by type of food and alphabetically. Then clean, fold, hang up, reorganize, and color order every single article of clothing I own.

This manic time, unfortunately, is always followed by a swing in the other direction. Usually it brings me back to my “normally depressed” self but this time was it… bad. It lead to me being at work and spending the entire 8.5 hours about 20 seconds away from a complete panic attack. Heart racing, palms sweating, nauseated, dizzy, OMG WTF IS WRONG WITH ME I’M SERIOUSLY ABOUT TO LOSE IT panic attack.

I realized how bad it was when on the way home Ban asked me if I was okay and I said I was fine and he responded, “Are you sure? You don’t look okay. You look like you’re… not there. Your eyes are glassy like you are drugged or something.” And then that brought the panic attack within 5 seconds of happening because OMG MY HUSBAND THINKS I’M ON DRUGS! SHIT!

That evening after I’d had the chance to lay down for a bit and calm my mind and stop the racing of the thoughts that never end and keep on going, he asked me again if I was okay and I told him, “Yes, but I need you to do something for me. I need you to make sure I’m taking my medicine every day. Like, don’t ask me if I’ve taken it, but actually watch me put the pill in my mouth and swallow it.” And then everything just kinda poured out of my mouth and Ben was his always supportive, but stern, self. He is understanding of my depression but he is able to give me just enough kick in the ass to STOP DOING THAT SHIT. I can’t even describe to you how much I hate having to ask him to do that, to check up on me like a little kid, but I’m smart enough and experienced enough with how my depression works to know that I can’t trust myself to remember how this felt in six months and stop taking it again.

When I said in the last blog that a look from Ben cold cause me to “fall to the floor and cry for three hours straight”, that’s what I meant. Because any little emotion I felt SO STRONGLY it practically dropped me to my knees. I even suffered from a bit of agoraphobia because I would get so over stimulated at the grocery store or restaurant that I literally clung to Ben to keep from falling over.

So anyway, that’s why I kinda disappeared about a month ago. For a few weeks I wasn’t posting on forums, hardly twittering, not really blogging, etc. But I’m medicated now! And as clinically sane as I can ever be! And that’s where I was. Well, for the last two or so weeks I’ve just been too lazy to post but still.

So, HOW HAVE ALL OF YOU BEEN!?

swoon (verb): to be deeply affected by passion for (someone)

Ben informed me tonight of his dislike for the word ‘swoon’. When I asked him to explain he said it’s because other than the fact that the word just sucks, I am not a “swooner”, I don’t swoon.

What?! I SWOON! I think I’m just different than most girls and I don’t like to ANNOUNCE the fact that I’ve just turned into a bucket of emotional goo because I’ve taken great care for a long time not to let people see me weak or emotional. I’ve never wanted to be one of “those” girls.

Example:
The other night when I was right in the middle of reading New Moon Ben wanted to go to dinner. I would have gladly skipped dinner to sit and read and pine and hope that Edward would FINALLY make his way back to Bella so I could stop wanting to hate her for leading Jacob on and, SERIOUSLY, FOOD!? I was being difficult, no doubt. I wanted Mexican, he wanted the Irish Pub and finally I agreed and said FINE, LETS JUST GO THE DAMN PUB SO I CAN GET HOME AND CONTINUE BEING AN EMO VAMPIRE WORSHIPER. He asked me if I was sure the pub was okay and I yelled back calmly answered I’LL GO WHEREVER YOU WANT!

When we turned into the parking lot where the Mexican place was I asked him, “What are you doing?” And he just responded, “Going where I want to eat.”

*swoon*

He really didn’t want to go eat there but he did. And the only reason he did it was to make me happy. The car was dark and I looked the other way when the blood hit my cheeks, but trust me, it happened.

Another Example:
This is the conversation that happened tonight. To say I’ve had a few rough days would be a drastic understatement and I can’t tell you how supportive and wonderful Ben has been to me. I’ll explain all this later when I’m not feeling so ‘raw’ but he’s kept my head just above the water and I’ve never loved him more than I do right now.

And I might have taken a bit of advantage of his unwavering support when I asked him this question…

Me: So, will you go see Twilight with me this weekend?
Ben: Sure!
Me: *blink* *blink* What?
Ben: Yes.
Me: …seriously?!
Ben: Yeah.
Me: *stunned*
(a bit more unrelated conversation about Bon-Bons)
Me: So you’ll really go see it with me?
Ben: Yeah, I think could be good, I watched the trailer*.
Me: Did you swoon?
Ben: NO. And I hate that word, every time I hear it I want to throw up.

*I don’t actually believe that he thinks it’s “good”. Or even “not bad” which I think might have been the words he actually used. Either way, Twilight is NOT the kind of movie that he would choose to go to. As a matter of fact, I know, without a doubt, that Ben’s really wanting to see Quantum of Solace.

Ben, you’re choosing to partake in my idiotic 13 year old vampire on mortal love obsession because… I don’t know, I really need you right now? You love me? You know that it just means a lot to me to make a ‘sacrifice’? Because you are scared to let me loose on the general public right now? For whatever reason, I know that it’s not because you are excited to see this movie IN THE LEAST.

And I swooned.

I just turned around and stirred the food on the stove so my back would be to you when I blushed. As much as I love it when you tease me when that happens, when you see my cheeks turn red and you smile and point out to me that it’s not just cold green acid flowing through my veins, I was scared that the sudden adrenaline flow that usually follows would probably be crippling enough for me to fall to the floor and cry for three hours straight.

I do swoon and to prove it to you I’m going to make it a point to be more like those silly girls and when I swoon I’ll find a way to gracefully flaunt it in your face.

I love you.

No man is truly married until he understands every word his wife is NOT saying.

So a question was posed on a message board about your feelings and if you share them with your S/O and it reminded me about a conversation that Ben and I had one night over margaritas and mexican food. I don’t remember EXACTLY the situation I had explained to him but I remember telling him how I had over reacted to something he had done but rather than tell him, decided to wait to see how I felt later that day. Looking back I could see that I was acting slightly nutcase-ish but we were talking about my mood swings in general. The gun part of the conversation is real and makes me crack up even today.

Copy/pasting my forum post:

I trust Ben explicitly so he’s always who I turn to when I’m feeling like I need to talk.

I’m not always the best person to be “in tune” to what I’m actually feeling about something in the heat of the moment. I suffer REALLY bad mood swings when I’m PMSy (like bordering on PMDD) and there are times when I know that I’m probably over reacting in the “feelings” department so I usually wait an hour and reassess how I feel. Sometimes I’m like, WOW TOTALLY OVER REACTED THERE! Or if I feel like I was justified in feeling the way I did, then I can tell him and he’s always REALLY open to listening to me. There are even times I tell him about the over reacting.

Me: Hey guess what. When you were doing the dishes earlier and you put them in the dishwasher wrong even though I’ve explained it you to a BILLION times I wanted to take the turkey baster and shove it up your ass, suck out your internal organs and feed them to you for dinner. HA! ISN’T THAT FUNNY!?
Ben: *blink* *blink*
Me: But see, I THOUGHT about it and looking back I can see that I was probably being a little reactionary.
Ben: And this is why we don’t keep guns in the house.
Me: To keep me from killing you or you from killing me?
Ben: Yes.
Me: *nods*

I like that we can laugh about the fact that I’m a psychotic nutjob.

It was NOT like this in the beginning. I can’t even imagine how Ben put up with me and my walls. I was so closed off to my own feelings there was no way for me to express them to other people without completely screwing it all up and either pissing everybody off or sounding like a complete jackass. And this is not to say that I’m perfect about this now because I am SO NOT. It’s still something that I struggle with and try to work on. It’s BETTER now but I still have quite a bit of room for improvement and I’m sure that Ben can see that much more than I do because now he can read me like a book and is, in a majority of the cases, better at assessing my feelings that I am.

Yesterday I twittered how every day I’m reminded how lucky I am to have such an amazing husband and it’s true. Every single day he does something to make me love him more, trust him more, value him more… and I know I’m not always the best at reminding him of that. He asked me what I meant when I twittered and I didn’t have the words at the time to properly explain what I meant so here it is:

I’m reminded every day what an amazing man I’ve married… because he hasn’t shot me yet.