Tales from the Deep

I don’t want to look…

I’ve been avoiding this place. I’ve been refusing to come here. Why? In doing so, I knew I would have to face my own fears…myself.

About a month ago, I left my job of 6 years for a new company. Needless to say, it didn’t work out. Now, day in, day out I wander a bit aimlessly through the day, looking for a new job and trying to figure out what I should even apply for. Maybe it’s the stages of grief, but all of the job postings I’ve come across, just do not excite me. Then, if something does come up that sounds plausible, I sit there and over analyze the job description and spend hours on revamping my revamped resume in an attempt to pre-determine what, not only a recruiter/internal HR person may be looking for, but more importantly if my application would even make it past the fancy-smancy ATS inspections. Then…a week or so has gone by and I still haven’t ever submitted my application. W. T. F. ?

Great…so now I’m not only pre-judged by humans based on what is or is not on a document…but I also get to be judged by a computer application! Really helps with the good ‘ol self-esteem and anxiety!

One Way or Another, it Comes Out

When you battle depression, anxiety and chronic pain, the last thing you need is a swift kick of self-doubt. Fortunately for me, the self-doubt has only been a murmur in the background (for the most part). Unfortunately however, the chronic pain has been amplified to levels I didn’t even know existed. The pain is never in one specific joint, or area…it is all over pain. It hurts from noise, it hurts from a gentle touch, it hurts when I walk. I’m only 36, but I feel like I’m 80. I try to keep it in perspective…ya know? Like, at least I can still walk, drive, etc.

On a “good” day, ibuprofen, tylenol, etc. do absolutely nothing for me. So, when this level of pain comes on, I just throw my hands to the air and give up. Finally, after 3 days of this pain, and two nights of no sleep, I gave in and took a Norco. Which took the edge off long enough for me to feel human again…for about 3-4 hours.

Something is definitely eating away at me; all of my nerves are shot, I’m exhausted, I feel battered. The normal techniques of meditation, stretching, exercising and whatever Cognitive Behavior methods you want to throw my way…just are not cutting it these days. On the days I do pull myself together and exercise, I know that I’ll be in horrible pain later.

Getting By

I don’t feel hopeless to the point that I want to end my life…but the graphics of the ways in which I would go about ending it are getting more vibrant and they never stop. The images just repeat faster and faster, becoming more intense; more real. Somehow, I am able to distract myself with enough throughout the day, to at least get me through until I’m able to rest my head on my pillow for the night.

My concentration and motivation are down, I’m lethargic…I just, kind of, don’t care about “keeping up with the Jones’s”.

Maybe that’s just what God is asking of me right now though? Maybe I’m meant to take this time to recharge, rest, take care of myself. Maybe I’m supposed to be leaning on him more, and not worrying about meeting expectations (or try to be a mind reader and predict what others’ expectations are). Maybe, for once…I can learn to accept me. To realize and accept that I am enough. Maybe…I am exactly where I am meant to be?

All I can do is hope.


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Introduction – The Beginning


I am a woman, wife, mother, daughter, sister, devoted employee. I have experienced many good things in life, but have endured many obstacles along the way. I have a lot of self-doubt, yet I am a very strong personality who tells it like it is. The strong persona has become my defense shield…I depend too heavily on what people think of me, and I know if anyone else were to hurt me, I’d unravel. 

I believe the experience of giving birth has been completely underplayed by the masses…meaning? Well, essentially your body endures trauma. Whilst giving labor is a “natural” event, it still pushes your body to the limits. Fortunately, our daughter was a very healthy baby and I know we are very blessed with not having any complications, except for one incident, weeks later, where she had a moment of choking on amniotic fluid (we were able to help her and she was fine). Soon after having my beautiful baby girl, the good and the bad came colliding together leaving no discernible separation of the two.


My husband was/is a wonderful caretaker; he made sure that I ate (he always went grocery shopping and made the food), helped me to the restroom, helped me with feeding schedules, helped as much as he could during the stressful times of breast-feeding, changed all the diapers, cleaned up any messes, took us to doctor’s appointments. I mean, you name it, he did it. Even though I was eternally grateful that I had such an amazing husband, I was filled with guilt. I felt like I wasn’t “doing my part”. I felt like I was a burden. I started hiding feelings…both physically and emotionally. 

The 3rd degree tears from giving birth had become infected (I thought the pain was just part of the “normal” healing process), the emotional fears of being a new parent, the fact that my husband and I did not reach out for nor accept help (we had the mentality that we made the decision to have a child, and that we should be the ones responsible), and the choking incident all threw me into a world of extreme pain, feelings of uncertainty and darkness topped-off with an inability to sleep. I was spiraling further down the rabbit-hole and too afraid to ask for help.


One night, dark thoughts of killing my daughter came rushing in, like water rampaging from a broken dam. I sat there, for hours, next to my husband and daughter in the dark room, fighting with myself. Fighting the horrible visions and thoughts I was having. I kept thinking, “I just have to hold on until sunlight, then my husband would wake up and be able to help”. Why didn’t I wake him, you are probably asking? Well, remember that guilt mentioned above…yeah, I didn’t want to disturb their sleep. I thought I could handle this madness on my own, why bother someone else because of something that was going on in my head? My head wasn’t their problem, right?

Sunlight came, and I sat there anxiously waiting for them to wake up. By this time I was so exhausted from the battle I had been through all night…the visions and thoughts were winning. 

I escaped to another room. Thinking if I just get a change of scenery, the visions and thoughts would dissipate. Several minutes later, I was fighting the haunting desire to seize the shotgun from the closet 2-feet away, to kill my daughter and myself. I finally realized I did not have the strength to fight this war alone; I had lost.

I immediately ran from the room, as though I were running from a live physical being. I woke up my husband and said “something is wrong, take me to the hospital”.


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You Spin Me Round

Warning: A lot of this post is going to sound very cliché and you’re probably going to wonder what on Earth I’m smoking.  …Trust me, I’m not.

No Two Snowflakes are the Same

We all have our battles in life, but what determines how we will come out at the end of them?

At this stage in my depression journey, I’ve accepted that things have happened to me (and by “accepted”, I don’t just mean that I can say they’ve happened). I can actually see how my experiences have built me to be an insightful mother and compassionate person who strongly believes that change is needed and possible.

I know God has a plan for me…what? Who knows.

But, one aspect I’m hung up on, is in regards to comparing myself to other people (yeah, I know…”don’t do that”).

I know there are others who have suffered through experiences like mine, and a greater number of the population continue to survive through worse than I can imagine. But, why do some people crumble when faced with these adversities, while others overcome and grow? How can two people faced with the same event have such different reactions?

I don’t expect an answer to this in my lifetime, and it is one that has plagued scientific minds for generations. There are a million variables to compare (e.g. socio-economic background, environmental/biological factors, genetics, etc.), but can a person’s “breaking point” be calculated? If yes, can it be avoided?

Where’s the Speed Bump?

In today’s American society, we are pushed to be the best, to climb the ladders of success, to make more money, have more stuff, more, more, more…but, we are not taught what it looks like to embrace, enjoy and soak in the glory of a win in our journey.

Wanting more is not necessarily a bad thing. However, if we do not know how to be content, then I don’t believe we can ever know what happiness means. Maybe this is an underlying factor to why depression is at such a high rate. Yes, more people are publicly talking about it, and with breaking down the stigma others are more willing to discuss their battle…but, what if the stigma was only one factor in the equation?

Maybe while society was in such a hurry to achieve greatness, we missed the speed bump that would have allowed us take a moment, reflect and breath in the amazing things that are right in front of us.

The Cold Truth

One cold, hard truth that I personally realized recently is that I am limited, and I don’t mean in the obvious “I’m only human”. Honestly, there is only so much I am capable of (no matter how smart, dedicated, motivated, etc.) and no amount of wishing nor hard work will change that. God had to literally, physically throw me on my backside to get me to see this.

This does not mean that I give up, expect everyone around me to do everything, or constantly feel as though the world owes me something. All this means is that I learn to accept that what I have accomplished is actually an achievement, no matter its size; and I celebrate it (no, it doesn’t have to be a party every time, but if you’re up to it then go for it!).

If I Can Leave You with One Thing

My advice, and I say this with the utmost love: recognize that there is only so much you’re capable of, only so much you are meant to learn; you are limited.

We are meant to be part of a community…each person bringing their limits to the table so we can work together in order to succeed. You are not expected to do and know everything…it’s literally impossible, so take that pressure of perfection off of your shoulders. You’re the one that put it there, so you have to be the one to pull it down.

Have courage, and be kind.



Anger? What Anger?

You Shoot, I kill

As far back as I can remember (about age 3), I have had anger issues. I’m honestly not sure why. It’s just suddenly there…no warning, no build-up, no reason.

Once I am at these points, every thing will piss me off, whether it’s rational or not. For the most part, I try to bottle these feelings up…but every once in awhile, the pot overflows and there’s no stopping it.

There are no filters or feelings of remorse; the harshest things come out. Granted, these are typically things that “everyone” has thought at one time or another…but I’m the one to actually say them.

It’s Lonely at the “Top”

This form of disruption definitely comes with backlash. The snippy words filled with a “better than thou” attitude come out to attack and the people closest to me are left stranded wondering what they had done to provoke such a rampage.

People don’t typically reach out repeatedly to be hurt (if you do, then that would be considered a psychological issue and you should seek treatment)…needless to say, this puts me out on my own little “reject” island. My island is small, clouded and lonely; filled with resonating sounds of self-hate topped with an echoing reminder of how horrible of a person I truly am.

Oddly though, I’m not a horrible person…I do care very deeply. I want people to have an easier life than I do, a life without burdens and more importantly I want to be a person that can help. So why then, does this anger (which is the complete opposite of everything I want) have such a powerful hold over me as well as my actions/reactions? Why does it at times seem to control me…leaving me with a trail of hurt to piece together?

Allow Yourself to Breathe

In my “old” age, I am learning to recognize in the moment, that the anger is unleashing. I don’t try to lock it down and bottle it up. Instead, I redirect it. I mentally take a “step back” and focus on inhaling and exhaling (not on how fast or slow my breath is, but the actual physical action of breathing), I check that my arms/shoulders/legs/hands, etc. aren’t tensed, and I check to see what tone there is in my voice.

This, for me, is what “checking in with yourself” means. It’s bringing my entire self, physically and mentally, into the present moment. I stop my mind from thinking of the next thing to say or do, and I accept everything for what it is at that time.

It’s a change, that will take time and I while have burnt a lot of bridges along the path, I’m hoping the change will show for itself and help mend those I hurt…and in the process help me to heal.


In the beginning…

I’ve avoided writing for almost a month now…I’ve been afraid of what I needed to share next. But I’m in a stronger frame of mind at the moment, so here it goes.

Do you ever feel like “why the hell did I have to go through all that”? Or what about “what did I do to deserve that”? …yeah, me too. There are a million things that I will never be able to conceive a plausible reason for why it happened to me, but things still happened nonetheless. I’m not talking about those poor decisions of drinking too much alcohol and puking everywhere, kind of events. There are definitely things we “endure” because of our own stupidity! This is not about those.


There are some shitty things that happen in your life that are 100% out of your control. Things that you shouldn’t have to endure or experience, but it’s purely just the way life works.

For me, I feel that my father passing away when I was about 2 years old was an unfair loss that threw my life (unbeknownst to me) into a trajectory that I would struggle through for the next 30+ years. Even though I have no memory of my father, I can look back at my life and see pivotal moments that could have been very different, if he had been there.

My mother remarried very quickly, and I was raised by them. I was made to believe that this man was my father, and I called him dad.  I loved, respected, feared, laughed and everything else that goes into a parent-child relationship, with this man. His parents were my Granny and PawPaw, whom I loved and cherished as being my family and I thought they loved me just as any grandparents would.

My sister was born when I was about to be 4; I can’t remember whether I was excited about it or not…honestly, I think I was too young to even realize what was going on or that things were going to change. But ever so slowly, things did change to no fault of my sisters. Soon Granny was yelling at me all the time, about everything and treating me so different than my sister. They would invite her to stay the night, but I didn’t get to go. They would buy her all kinds of treats and toys and take her places, but nothing for me other than the “here’s a birthday or Christmas present because we’re supposed to give you something”. I always figured (even at those young ages) that it was because I wasn’t the baby anymore (it wouldn’t be until I was about 9 that I would learn about my real father dying).


My “dad” was a very stubborn person, we only went places or did things that he liked and he was never wrong about anything, ever. If he had no interest in something you liked (say, being in gymnastics), he wouldn’t go and would always find ways to criticize that interest. No matter what you did he would point out the flaws or talk about how much better he could do it, and he was always quick to anger.

One time, my sister and I were playing Nintendo (I’m talking the FIRST Nintendo…which was a HUGE deal in those days). I don’t remember if we were playing a two-person game or not, but we were pestering one another while we played. We were laughing and “fighting” and jabbing each other with our elbows…total sibling kind of stuff.

Out of nowhere, he yanks us off the floor yelling in our faces while pulling the game controllers from our hands. I remember my sister telling some story about how I was being so mean and that she asked me to stop and blah, blah, blah. Naturally, I was mad that not only was I being yelled at for no reason, but now I’m getting into major trouble because she lied. Next thing I know, he’s picked us up and thrown us on our butts onto the hard floor in the kitchen; he has us sitting with our backs touching. He does some more yelling and leaves the room. So, I’m steaming mad…and suddenly my sister starts throwing elbows in my ribs and giggling. So, I throw some into hers, but I’m not giggling. She jabs again, I jab harder…she screams. Next thing I knew I am being thrown across the room, my back slams into the refrigerator and just as quickly, he was pushing me against the refrigerator and yelling inches from my nose. My mom stood in the doorway, and said nothing. I remember her later telling me that I need to stop picking on my sister or they were going to take the games away.

I know what you’re thinking, the above doesn’t sound horrible. Sounds like typical sibling and parent squawking scenarios. To some degree, in a logical state of mind I would probably agree with you. However, the above is one scenario…these happened frequently, often with more intensity, over the smallest things.


I may not have been physically abused to the degree some kids are, and I’m sure some people would say that I wasn’t abused, it was discipline…I can only say that disciplining out of anger, is abuse.

However you want to define it, doesn’t matter. In the end, living in this angry and unpredictable environment caused instability and fear in my life. I never knew what I was going to get in trouble for, or how far it would be taken. I was never able to share anything, without being blamed and yelled at. Even if something happened to me, I would get yelled at because I must have done something to deserve it.

This is probably why, a few years later when I was molested, I didn’t tell anyone. At that time (I must have been around the age of 8 or 9), I was always playing with a boy from my class who lived two houses down from us. He had an older step-brother who came to their house sometimes. On one of the visits, the older brother and his friends locked my friend and I in a dark room of their house and forced us to touch one another. I was so scared. I didn’t know if they would ever let us out of the room and they kept threatening what they would do to us if we didn’t do more or if we ever told anyone. I couldn’t understand why they were doing this. What was worse, I felt so ashamed and so scared; I thought I would be in trouble and beaten at home because of what happened…so I never said a word to my parents or anyone.

…Until today, no one has ever known.


Who’s Judging Whom?

Haven’t been writing in a while. There have been two main reasons why. One, I spend most of my day searching for and applying to jobs, and the last thing I want to do is type a blog when I should be using that time to look for a job. Two, I’ve felt like I would be called a hypocrite for writing about my depression/anxiety when I’m not working.

The latter thought sounds idiotic when I type it out, but it’s true. I feel like since I don’t have the pressures of trying to balance work and home life, that people would say I have no reason to be depressed/anxious because I now have time to relax. Fortunately, in the last few weeks, my depression has been almost non-existent. There have been moments of random crying that were made better by a sweet hug from my wonderful husband, but surprisingly, nothing too extreme. I think I can thank my psychiatrist for helping me find the right balance of medication (which took years to get to).

The anxiety has actually been pretty manageable. Moments where my heart starts racing or a daunting feeling of having too much to do will come over me, but through mindfulness and playing with the new puppy I’ve been able to distract myself and pull out of it.

The chronic pain…now this one is just getting ridiculous! Doctors have said it’s most likely increased due to stress over losing my job. While I really didn’t care about being fired (didn’t care for the department I was working in), I did care that I didn’t know where to go next and that I was depreciating in value due to not having a job.

Does a job hold value?

For me, yes. I have had a paying job of some kind since I was about 11 years old. At first, working was an excuse to not have to do other things. I was able to avoid home, avoid going to church, and later I was able to avoid hearing the cruel things kids would say about me.

For some reason, all of my life I have been a target for people’s “jokes”; I was someone for people to make fun of, point out flaws of, make-up stories about, etc. Was this bullying? Maybe. More on this in a later blog though.

Needless to say, working proved to be a lucrative distraction for me. Where did the work ethic come from? Well, that was from being raised in a house where you really only received acceptance/praise/love for a job well done. Whether it be from getting good grades in school, completing chores, playing sports, etc. Basically, if you weren’t “doing”, you were not being a contributing member of society; you were in the way and would be yelled at, being reminded of what you should have done better.

This mentality did make me a very driven person, who has always wanted to do well. Because when you do well, people are happy, if people are happy then maybe they’ll accept you and be nice to you…maybe you’ll be worth something. It had been hammered into my brain that the only way to succeed in life would be to have a successful job, and the only way to be successful at a job, would be from hard work and to always be the best; if I wasn’t the best, someone else would be…and then I’d hold no value and be replaced.

So, to me, having and keeping a job were of the highest value; being good at that job was the top priority.

Enjoy the down-time

It is honestly difficult for me to enjoy the down-time. I get anxiety about finding jobs, researching the company, writing a resume, making a unique cover letter for every single application…it becomes very daunting. Why is it daunting? Well, for me it’s another platform where people judge based on very little information that is reviewed in a matter of seconds. Your life is in their hands, and not only do you have to magically guess what they do or do not want to see in a resume, but you also have to make it past the computerized systems where 100’s of other people have applied.

At some point you start to just give up; what’s the point when there’s no guarantee that you will make it past the cyber-system guard. Even if you do, a quick glance from a recruiter who doesn’t really know what the position is, tosses your resume to the “no” pile, and you’re done.

Bit by bit, I’m realizing that I’m worn down. Being this tired, in this much pain has forced me to relax from time to time. To take some lazy days. It has allowed me to find some beautiful hiking areas and to take time for myself. It’s been incredibly nice to spend some time with my daughter, and to actually share life with her! Creating memories, giggling, experiencing…it’s amazing.

Now…I just have to get this pain, anxiety and restless sleep thing under control and then I’ll be recharged and ready to take on anything!



War is sweet to those who haven’t experienced it.

I get it, we all have wars to win. Each year we get older and our circle of knowledge grows. With this growth, there are more opportunities for hurt (and yes, the flip side to that is fun/happiness).

Think of a cat, for instance. Each day they are adjusting to their environment, and each day they expand their barrier a little more. Soon, they no longer just sit around the house; now they go down the street! Well, what’s down a street? Cars, dogs, other cats or critters, people…I mean the list can go on and on.

So, is it better to sit isolated and safe or to expand your horizon and venture new things? I personally, always went for the latter…but these days I generally prefer to stay pretty isolated.

It may be partly due to the fact that I like where I live, I mean why spend all the money on a house and never enjoy it, right? Another part is because leaving the house costs money. Honestly, I get it there are TONS of free activities and places to go; but why go deal with crowds that hike up my anxiety when I am fortunate enough to have a comfy house, with a loving family and animals?

Sometimes I think that others believe that I am using my depression and anxiety as an excuse…which naturally pushes me to try and do more than I probably should. For some reason, one of my biggest problems is guilt. Not from any one particular thing! I’m able to take any scenario, and somehow turn it around in such a twisted way that I soon become metaphorically crippled. My brain literally misconstrues everything, leaving me to feel inadequate, unworthy, and worst of all, hopeless.

I recently lost my brand new job. Let me tell ya, if you ever want a real confidence booster in life, lose a job. Does wonders for that good ‘ol self-esteem! …naturally, I’m kidding.

Now, while my daughter is at daycare, and my husband is at work…I sit at home. While I enjoy the quiet time (to some degree), I wouldn’t exactly say that I’m doing “well”. My mind goes down these black holes, focusing on the “what-if”, which leads to the “I’m not good enough”, which of course heightens the visuals (read “Escape Routes” for more details about what I mean).  As if all that negativity wasn’t enough, now I get to have fun looking into my crystal ball to try and predict how people are going to judge me based on a resume, and cross my fingers that it even makes it past the ATS barrier!

“Go relax, enjoy the time off” some people say! Sure…because sitting around being lazy instead of working on my resume, or look for a job, or apply to a job, or clean the house, or anything else that would be a good use of my time, is an option? Well, again…my thoughts don’t allow for such balance. Nope, if I tried to relax on a weekday I would just sit there so guilt ridden that it would defeat the purpose.

So…why am I wasting my time blogging? Simply put, I couldn’t allow myself to go too far down the rabbit hole with a simple task of determining a new resume style, and this is more “productive” than watching t.v.

Gotta love the mind!




It’s Always a Test

The difficult days are starting to out-number the good. Hence why it’s been two weeks since I’ve posted.

For some reason, even though I’ve started working out more consistently and I’ve actually been watching what I eat/drink…I’m in heightened amounts of pain without relief, and I’m only able to sleep about 2-3 hours (as confirmed by my fitbit) a night.

My anxiety has been off the charts, and I’m never able to fully relax. When I do actually fall asleep, I wake-up feeling very disoriented and my pain is so bad that the thought of getting out of bed is excruciating. I can tell immediately that while my mind may have slept for a little bit, my body did not. I feel the remnants of a night long battle that drudged through a brutally cold night; my jaw is almost trapped shut and my neck/shoulders can barely move.

I’m constantly trying to stretch the stress away. Constantly trying to think of new things to help…to find even 5 minutes of release.

I feel as though I’m one of those rubber-band balls. Doesn’t matter if you take 20 rubber-bands off…there’s still a hundred layers of tightly wound wraps, clinging tightly around me.

After a few weeks of this tiresome, worn-out record…the depression was able to creep back in. Today I just felt so far away. I was alone. I started ruminating on the fact that all I am is a disappointment. Thoughts that I don’t do enough for my family, that I am failing them, that I have never amounted to anything, are so absolute in my mind…they are truth.

How’d I get through the day? Mainly, I stayed busy…pre-occupied my mind with checklists and chores.

Anxiety See’s No Age

My daughter seemed to be having a difficult day, more-so than I. Oddly, when she’s struggling, my personal battles go right out the window and my full focus becomes her. I already see that she is an over-thinker (at 4 years old). She already starts to stress out, at times, about the probable domino affect that could possibly happen because of one minuscule thing. She starts to harp and stress-out on one tiny little thing and gets so worked up that you’d swear the world was coming to its demise in the next 5 minutes!

I become calm. Otherwise, all I’m going to do is feed the fire. I have to remain calm. I am down on my knees, eye-level with her…letting her know that I understand how she feels; reassuring her that it is okay and we’ll figure it out together. I’m showing her how to calmly breath, the tension in my face dissipates and my eyes are locked in on hers. Soon, her body starts to relax, the worry in her eyes disappears and she is regaining control.

What triggered this? …she was extremely over-tired. She still struggles with the new “rise and shine” routine of being woken-up at 6:30am. She had already complained that she didn’t get a nap because the baby’s were making so much noise (the little ones at daycare), and she had a situation with one of the other kids during the day that had left her upset and made her feel a little bit invisible. Needless to say, she had a rough day.

Common Ground

I’m reminded that all of us are constantly in one battle or another. Some days they don’t seem so problematic, because we’ve gotten the proper amount of sleep, we weren’t in pain, we didn’t have poisonous thoughts running through our minds…the stars had aligned! Some days, everything falls into place nicely…and some days they don’t. No matter what, I never want to be the cause for someone else’s bad day…no one should be afflicted just because I am.

…and if I’m able to shield or help one person, for one minute from pain or troubles, then all of my tribulations are worth it. While some days will be burdensome, and my battle might be apparent for all to see, I will always try to do better and I will do anything in my power to help ease someone else’s troubles.

A Rose by Any Other Name

I read a blog post last week that was discussing “high-functioning depression” and for some reason, since reading the blog, I have not been able to stop thinking about labels.

It’s humorous to me, because people get extremely defensive when someone “labels” them…yet because of our individual identity crises, we sit here and find new ways to label ourselves.

At the end of the day, depression is still depression, right?

I’ve definitely had a few psychologists say that I’m a very high-functioning person, and people are typically surprised when I share with them that I battle depression.  Between my 4-year old, my husband, my drive to do well at my job, house cleaning, errands, life…I somehow manage (for the most part) to get shit handled and .


Don’t get me wrong, 98% of the time when I wake up in the morning I wish I could just pull the blanket over my head and stay there alone all day. Maybe since I’m the only one around in the morning to get our daughter dressed and to daycare is a blessing?: I’m betting if my husband were able to take her, I’d give in to the depression and most likely be out of a job because of too many days missed.

Another driver for me, is my daughter. I never want my daughter to suffer just because I do. It’s not her fault that I have depression and anxiety, so why should she have to ever feel that it is?

I’m not trying to deceive my daughter; when she is old enough I will share and/or answer any questions she may have about my battle. She is aware that I have bad days, where I tend to take more naps, and for right now, she understands that “mommy has an ouchie and doesn’t feel well”. Usually, on those days we’ll snuggle up on the couch and watch movies together!

Fortunately, these mommy ouchie days are becoming less frequent and I can honestly attribute it to finally finding the correct combination of prescriptions (for the depression) and from having learned my triggers as well as limits (for the anxiety). Allowing myself down-time and not feeling guilty for it has been huge, but (as mentioned in a previous post) focusing on one day at a time has helped with that.

Bottom line?

If you suffer depression and anxiety you may have nothing but bad and worse days, you might be lucky and have more good than bad…but no matter what it is still depression. If you feel better about your battle by calling it “high-functioning”, then so be it. I personally, don’t feel the need to be labeled even further than I already am.

Gonna Let It Shine

No matter what you or society call it, it is a daily fight for survival. So, please if you can see the light, no matter how dim or brief in your day, then I recommend that you hold onto that little glimmer of hope to give you the strength to get through the day. Every day does not have to be some “outta the park” success of productivity…there are literally days where getting out of bed and taking a shower is the only thing I manage to accomplish. However, not feeling guilty that I couldn’t do more is what allows me to try again tomorrow.


Is it Growing Pains or More?

I’ve heard somewhere, over the years, that people who have experienced trauma or depression in their life are more susceptible to experiencing postpartum. I’ve also heard that postpartum can be the “trigger” that brings depression to the surface. Meaning, someone may have always been susceptible to depression, but the after effects of childbirth is what allowed it out.

While this may not be the case for everyone…it definitely was for me.

I know that all too often people want to blame others for the way their life “ended up”. I’m not one of those, anymore…or at least I make a very diligent effort to avoid it. While people can disappoint you, influence you and affect your life, no one is to blame for what you decide to do with it, but you. Additionally, I don’t believe that anyone can ever say that their own decisions, actions, reactions did not played a part in what they experienced in life.

13 Reasons Why

Not sure how many of you have Netflix, or of you’ve been curious at all about the Netflix original “13 Reasons Why“. Personally, I have to admit, I wasn’t. My husband on the other hand was and started watching it one night.

Let’s just say after watching the first episode, I left the room and cried for half an hour. Naturally, I swore off ever watching it again. Don’t get me wrong, it has a very talented cast, and the way they execute the storyline is amazing, and their depiction of life in high school was (for me) spot on. If you can detach from the emotions that stem from the show or if you did not experience those types of events in high school, then you should be fine to watch it.

A few days later my husband was watching it again. I avoided it, and relaxed outside and enjoyed some overdue alone time. One of the grandma’s had picked up the kid for a sleepover, so we got a day of uninterrupted time at home.

However, I did later sit down with him for a few minutes to see what we wanted to do for dinner, and I got sucked into the show again. Couldn’t stop watching for about 3 episodes.

The last episode I watched, left me feeling as though I had pulled a bandaid off of a shotgun wound. The pent-up feelings I had swept under the rug (or I thought) came flooding through, and things I hadn’t thought about in two decades were suddenly at the forefront of my mind…and all the emotional baggage associated with them were on my heart. The tears came flooding through, again.

This time though, my husband came and pulled me close to him and just ever so gently hugged me and allowed me to cry on his chest. He knew exactly why I was upset after that particular episode, and he was trying so hard to be there for me.

What happened in the episode you may wonder? Well, a girl was raped.


I personally cannot begin to comprehend the evil that people are capable of. Anytime I see or hear about terrorist attacks, missing children, sexual abuse, any abuse or even just the conniving lies people tell, I am literally shocked. I cannot fathom how people come up with this shit and justify it as being “the right thing to do”. I can only assume that larger percentages of those kinds of human actions are derived from severe mental disabilities…I mean they have to be, right?

Neither here nor there (and I am in no way justifying what happened to me), but looking back I realize that if I had followed the rules and been where I was supposed to be, I probably would have never been raped. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that single event ended up creating a downward spiral, snowball effect in my life for several years to come.

Strength? or Weakness?

One question that always rings with me, is whether a person can blame how their life “turned out”, to one event?

To this, I believe it depends on the individual and the event. Every single person has their own threshold (physically and mentally), and sometimes you don’t know what yours is until you’re pushed to that point. It literally becomes survival of the fittest, and for me I learned at a very young age to be a survivor of life. Constantly struggling for a moment away from the fight or flight mentality, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, I stubbornly pushed my way through, until life became a task list.

Final Thoughts

There are always different perceptions and perspectives, and whether they are right or wrong, people derive their own about themselves as well as others all of the time.

But, who’s to say that someone else’s are wrong?

For instance, a small child may throw a temper tantrum because they didn’t get what they wanted. A teen may be incredibly dramatic about something because of “teen hormones”. An adult may just snap at the people they love over the simplest non-essential thing.

…but what if we took the time to look past the yelling, defensive front? Would we find that what the person was yelling about has nothing to do with what the problem actually is?

Maybe we find out that the child is having a difficult time adjusting to a new schedule and they don’t know how to identify or explain what they are feeling yet.

Maybe the emotional teen is being bullied, but feels that people would say they’re making it up for attention.

Maybe the snippy adult is battling depression and anxiety, and by the end of the day after work, family, and the never ending to-do’s…they just have nothing left in them and are hoping upon hope, that someone will catch them and tell them that they did a good job.




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