You may not want to read this post because it’s ugly—and very wordy. If you suffer from depression, this may not be a wise choice for you either. It’s a good example of how the world of depression and anxiety ebbs and flows. To anybody reading this who does not suffer from a mental illness—count your blessings.
I’m going to freakin’ whine—April-style.
And, hopefully acknowledge what I do have to be grateful for.
I’m pre-coffee. I have to drink stale coffee of my favorite brand, it’s just not my favorite flavor. Why do I still have it?
Why do I keep 50 little plastic containers from Chinese take-out? I’m in the stages of pre-hoarding, and I’m afraid of throwing out one cent worth of anything.
Even though stale, I have coffee.
I wake up every morning with a pain in my armpit. Apparently, according to various Torturers, it’s due to nerve damage from surgery, Video Assisted Thoracoscopic Surgery – VATS, to remove the cancerous lung nodule. However, I continue to Google why my armpit hurts. It’s one of those things I do over and over, expecting a different answer. I was one of the “lucky” ones. Thankfully, I didn’t have to have a Thoracotomy. That’s one of those big words, along with rib spreader, they use in hospital dramas on television. I understand the recovery is extremely painful. While my recovery was painful, I suppose it could have been worse.
Just in case I may have some other odd thing about my body/health. I have read articles describing how to dig around the armpit to feel the lymph nodes. Apparently, I’m supposed to feel my ribs? Crap.
However, I woke up this morning, and I’m thankful for that.
I knew I was awake because I had the pain in my armpit.
One of the things I have had on my mind–obsessively–is that I have a friend suffering from a rare form of cancer. I think she said that there are like 3000 cases diagnosed in the U.S. each year. I’m sure y’all can Google the other types of cancer diagnosis statistics, but her cancer is rare. So guess what? There is very little funding to research treatments for it.
My friend was recently sprung from a month-long incarceration at her local hospital. Just one of her many, many trips to the hospital. She updates though the CaringBridge Network, but we have recently been receiving updates through her sister. Which means she’s fighting awful hard.
She is a “virtual” friend that I met through another friend. We have talked over the phone and over the computer, but I have yet to meet her in person. When she is healthy enough to have visitors, I would actually hop on a plane, or drive the 12 hours to a HUGE stinkin’ city to see her, and give her the hug I wish to give her. My life has been better with her enthusiasm, encouragement, and the example of how she chooses to live her life. I am blessed to know her.
While on the subject of fighting and pain, my sister–the only sibling I have left–reminded me of what she has gone through. Well, actually she was describing how much of a rock her husband has been—but they survived the 7.1 earthquake in the late 1980’s in San Francisco. A couple of hurricanes while my brother in law was stationed on the east coast. She has suffered from Multiple Sclerosis for over 30 years and lives in constant pain (my armpit pain is like a mosquito bite to her, I’m sure). She is also a cancer survivor. She has lost the same dad, grandparents, and siblings that I have. You know what? She always seems to have a happy-go-lucky attitude. I’m proud to be her sister, and I’m humbled.
I have to go to the stinkin’ grocery store. Mainly, I don’t want to, because tears are a-flowing this morning. It’s bad enough slogging through that dreadful store, but to do it in the mind frame I’m in, I need my babysitter. What a pitiful statement. At least I’m physically able to go there. While mental illness can be debilitating, I thought I had most of mine under control.
Another problem—I’m having is a ginormous feeling of being overwhelmed.
My cat that was sick, is now better. However, he has developed a behavior problem which I have to perform serious stealth tactics to correct. At least he’s peeing in the bathtub, and not other places. He’s on anti-depressants because the veterinarian thinks he has a mental illness. Ha! The Crazy Cat Lady, who suffers from mental illness, has a crazy cat—with a mental illness.
I’m trying to find something good here….he is lovable, and I love, love, love him. However, he’s giving off some bad ju-ju, and it’s another subject I’m obsessing over. Instead of the peace I receive by snuggling with my cats, I’m annoyed by their constant neediness for attention.
A lot of my crazy-cat’s problem, has to do with the multiplying of other house cats, and that wild puppy that belongs to The Wee One. The puppy who will soon be causing havoc on a daily basis. I’m excited to have two of my kids back home, but why, oh why do they have to be animal lovers? At least I feel good about the part that their animals are rescue animals.
Oh, and the old dog that I love to humiliate, doesn’t seem to be doing well. She recently had her old lady tune up, but she pants a lot. I know it’s hot, but we have air conditioning. So…I’m stressing over whether or not to return to the veterinarian again. I feel as if I should just live in my car with all my animals–in the parking lot of the veterinarian’s office.
I was rather proud of the progress I’ve made in our home office. I had it almost down to a system of purging daily junk mail, and keeping myself from creating a huge mess. I was about to post a before and after photo until I realized, through many different rooms and closets, I have boxes and boxes of “important” papers. I suppose my theory of out of sight–out of mind, didn’t make the stuff disappear. Now the office is messy, but it’s contained in boxes for the most part.
I’m a stinkin’ ancestor of the squirrel family. Crap!
My nest area around the living room couch is a disaster. I will leave it at that.
I have now had my third cup of coffee, and there are still tears. Not of defeat. Just tears from who the hell knows.
I feel as if I’m letting my husband and sons down. My daughter is really busy with school right now, but I miss the heck out of her. I’m so happy to have some Face Time with her. I’m thankful for the technology, and my ability to figure it out, so that I can see her little face. She’s growing tomatoes though container gardening on her deck. She showed me her baby tomatoes.
The worst part of depression for me, is that I can’t show, or I withhold the love I feel for the people I love. I don’t hug, tell them I love them enough, pay attention to what they are saying. I deeply feel it, but for some reason, I can’t show it. That makes me feel the worst about myself, which continues the cyclic pattern of my depression. Not only does my behavior hold me captive by depression, it truly hurts my heart.
Every night before I go to sleep, I say to myself–tonight, I’m going to have the most wonderfully peaceful sleep—and I do—but it’s a medicated sleep.
Yesterday, I had such a battle with anxiety, I seriously thought I was having a heart attack. However, I’m more than familiar with the feeling, it was anxiety. However, I still fear the heart attack, all the same. Not only that, I don’t feel as if I can breathe. Now, that’s a scary feeling.
As I wake up each morning, I have been trying to tell myself something about it being a beautiful day……….
…….until I feel that pain in my armpit.