Today, I’m tired. I’m emotionally drained. I’m not even sure I’m capable of writing this today, but I need to do something. It has been an awful, horrible, no good day. But I’m surviving. I’m surviving because I’ve developed coping mechanisms.

Not that I don’t occasionally delve into the abyss of unhealthy coping mechanisms such as alcohol and stress eating. I do. More often than I care to admit.

When things get really tough, I move to my healthier coping mechanisms that I’ve developed over the last decade. I wanted to share a few today.

•Find happiness wherever you can. We live in a strange world where happiness is overrated, and it’s childish to indulge in pure giddiness. This is a lie from society. Don’t let people pollute your joy. It’s rare enough as it is, especially with depression.

For example: I absolutely LOVE pumpkin spice lattes. There is a huge population of people who want me to hate pumpkin spice lattes because it’s “overrated” and I’m “immature” because of exactly HOW excited I am over this drink every fall. I don’t care. I find joy in very little lately, so I will devolve to giggles and wide eyes every time I see it on the menu. It makes me happy.

•Find a distraction! I can’t stress this enough. When life gets overwhelming, you need somewhere to go or you’ll go to unhealthy coping every time. It’s so much easier to grab a bottle of whiskey and drown out the pain. To keep from doing that, you need something close to take your mind off things until you’re being more rational. Be it a craft, a subject to study, a project,etc. just find something. Some people even learn a new language! Just find what you like, and let it take over your mental space when you’re overwhelmed.

For example: I study hockey, do cross stitching, or take my kids to do something fun when I’m overwhelmed. Last week we got snow cones in November just for the hell of it, because I needed a break!

•Rewatch your shows. Studies have shown that the nostalgic feeling you get when rewatching your favorite shows can reduce your anxieties! Not to mention the lack of surprises keeps your stress and adrenaline low, so you can recover from real life suspense.

For example: Doctor Who has helped me through so many depressive episodes. I pretty much owe my life to Christopher Eccleston.

•Set boundaries. You’re allowed to say no without explanation. You don’t have to put up with toxic relationships. There is absolutely no law saying that just because someone is family, they’re allowed to hurt you. It breaks my heart hearing how people get so emotionally abused by parents or siblings just because they’re family.

For example: I don’t always call my sister back! She complains, and while I always allow venting, I don’t always have the mental/emotional space to be the one vented to. If I’m not capable of holding it all, I just don’t call back. If it’s important she’ll text afterwards.

•Be aware!!! It’s super easy to get caught up in your depression, and only focus on your own emotions. These emotions are SO HEAVY, that it’s completely understandable to only be able to think of how it feels. However, this is toxic, and can make your MORE depressed. You have to look outside yourself to find things that take you out of that mindset. See others’ struggles and remember to be thankful for what you have and the joy you’ve experienced. See how your family and friends need you. See the feelings of others and how your negativity may be affecting them.

While it is important to take time to feel your emotions fully, and even talk about them regularly, it’s also important not to dwell on them negatively. Don’t feel guilty or shameful, just make time to fully feel them and then try to move past them.

For example: When I’m feeling low, I vent to my husband in a time we’re both capable. Then, I find a day where I can do something fun or distracting and move past my negative emotions and onto the task I’ve planned.

So, I’m about halfway through a bottle of Shiraz, so obviously I need to post something online. That sounds smart.

Yes, I drink while on Lexapro. Shut up.

My husband and I fought today. Well, we did what counts as a fight after a decade of marriage. We said a few things with attitude, and then sat silently for several minutes before apologizing.

You see, he has to pass a pretty in-depth test to transition from trainee to full-time employee at his job. This is his first real civilian career. The past 8 years were under military contract, so this test is very important to him. It is the first time our livelihood doesn’t fall under the gracious umbrella of the Army’s protection. He decided to go to a little study group with his peers.

Normally, I wouldn’t mind. As long as he’s not drinking and driving, he’s pretty much free to do as he pleases. I don’t like getting out late, so picking him up drunk isn’t on my list of things to do. I would probably make him stay the night with a friend as opposed to dragging these kids out to pick him up drunk. I trust him, though, and drinking has never been an issue, so whatever.

Except today. Today sucked. I’m on the brink mentally, I have a pretty important medical exam tomorrow, I’ve spent the entire day cleaning just for the house to be a mess again after dinner, I’m exhausted, I ran errands for him earlier, and the children have fought each other all day long. I need a respite from children. Just an hour or so. I’m losing my mind.

I got upset he spent the entire day out. He comes home from work late, spends his entire 15 minutes at home in the bathroom, (how do men poop so much???) and then rushes out to the study group where they spend three hours. By the time he comes home, it’s bedtime and I’m cranky.

I’m awake now. Decompressing with a bottle of wine and my phone. I window shopped on Amazon, I googled some questions I had, I browsed social media. I am just having a little me time in the quiet of post-bedtime. Will I regret it tomorrow? Absolutely! Is it still worth it? Absolutely!

You can’t pour from an empty cup, so any time that I spend for myself is one-hundred percent worth it! If I’m tired tomorrow, I’ll just have an extra cup of coffee and do a little less around the house. Maybe I’ll get a nap when the kids nap! If I didn’t take this time to myself tonight, I would wake up with today’s stress still on my shoulders.

In other news, I have a weird desire to send Ben Bishop a present. I’m super sympathetic. Some would say empath. Either way, he got taken out of a game last week, and I’ve felt horrible for him. He’s better than he’s been playing this year. If you’re reading, Bish, we love you! Bi

I’ve done a little under an hour. That’s terrible. This is going to take forever, apparently, but that’s ok.

I find it increasingly difficult to find the time and energy to concentrate long enough to “study” hockey. As a stay at home mother of three, my job is pretty much from the time I wake up until I go to sleep, plus several times in the night when the baby wakes up.

As I type this, I’m balancing a child on my lap while another screams for me to see his latest achievement, and the baby pours a full bag of goldfish to the floor. Send help.

It doesn’t exactly help that my husband and I have been struggling extra hard with our mental health. Not to mention my physical health. After my bout with excessive cycles, my gynecologist has ordered a myriad of tests including a sonogram searching for tumors. I have another appointment next week for the results.

I’ve fought a panic attack all morning. It is taking so much energy to fight it back, but I don’t have time for the fallout and necessary nap after a full blown attack.

I fight by keeping myself busy, by distracting myself. This is exactly why I started this, so that I have something already there to take up my mental space when it’s all too much. Then I’m not struggling to find something in the middle of my panic.

Today, however, I’m already more than busy. I probably shouldn’t be stopping to make a blog entry, BUT it seemed like a good time to share a bit with all of you. A view from the trenches, so to speak. I suppose I should end this here, and continue cleaning my kitchen.

Maybe I wait until after the movie. 🤔

Apparently my posts are getting farther and farther apart. I don’t mean to, but I’m struggling. I do appreciate having a place to release the full aspect of my depression, so I’m trying to take advantage of it.

Firstly, I am exhausted. The physical toll of my illness is in full swing. Nothing is enjoyable anymore. I love Christmas, and I bought and wrapped all the Christmas presents this week with absolutely no emotion. I am rarely able to contain my excitement at the thought of my children smiling on Christmas morning, so to have no emotion is upsetting.

It doesn’t help that my husband has developed a resistance to his medicine as well. He is going to the VA on Tuesday to attempt to rectify his issues. Maybe I’ll follow suit, and speak to my doctor about possible resistance. I’m not exactly thrilled to have to test my body on different medicines given my history of dramatic reactions.

I feel bad, because we can’t help each other in this state. We try our best, but everything makes him angry and everything makes me exhausted. We put on a brave face for our kids, but still sometimes get angry and yell at them. With three boys under 10, our kids are a walking mess! We barely have enough energy to function anymore, so we admittedly get pretty upset when they trash the house. They’ve coped well, though. We apologize, and they continue smiling. I think they’re our strength most days.

We did make ourselves spend the weekend together. Even if we were tired. We just dragged our feet, and kept going. Friday we went to a hockey game for our local team. It was great! We do love a good hockey game, and it was nice to support our team. We’re the Jackalopes, so when we score people throw toy carrots into the ice, and kids skate around to pick them up. We wound up leaving before the third period from sheer exhaustion, though.

The next day was the first day of Christmas celebrations at the mall. Santa flew in on a helicopter and the ice rink switched to the Christmas station. We skated for about an hour (I say we. My husband and oldest son skated for an hour while my two youngest spent a solid minute on the ice before dragging me to the play area.) before we moved onto Christmas shopping. We picked out our annual personalized ornament, met santa, and even heard two people from the local orchestra play Phantom of the Opera hits under the giant snowman!

I had spent the morning shopping alone before we regrouped and traveled to the mall, so I spent that night watching Ghost Adventures and wrapping. I finished everything except the giant train table, and that’s only because I don’t know where to hide it, yet. I should feel accomplished, or proud, or excited, but I’m not. Not even a little. I wish I could say it was because we aren’t able to visit home this year, but honestly, that’s a fairly new development. I wasn’t excited before that, either.

I feel super ungrateful typing this. I’ve written about fun, play, and presents that some people wish they could afford to buy or do. (Honestly, the hockey game was free. It was military appreciation night. It doesn’t change my point, though.) I really am grateful, I’m mostly trying to point out that these things don’t bring happiness. I mean, we all say that, and that we would be more comfortable crying in a mansion if we’re going to be depressed anyway. It’s true, though. I’ve yet to find anything that will buy happiness. I can buy distraction. I can buy medication. I can even buy memories. I’ve yet to be able to buy happiness.

Tomorrow I continue the journey of unpacking. My husband wants to stay mostly packed, and try to buy a house soon, but I’m honestly okay with living here for a while. It’s small, but our bills are low and we get free cable. I think not adding the stress of a mortgage to our mental load would be the smartest thing for us right now. He thinks the security of ownership would lift some mental weight from our shoulders. Weigh in. Who’s right?

Listen. I am not exaggerating when I say I have wild kids. Listen to any episode of Sharts and Giggles on the internet, and see that my kids are about two degrees below hers. One has ADHD. One feeds off the one with ADHD. And the baby finds the loudest thing he can do and scream-giggles while doing it. Wild.

For my own sanity, I am a hands-off parent. If they’re not hurting anyone nor destroying property, I let them play. Maybe it annoys people, I don’t care. I’m rarely out of the house, so people can deal.

So today of all days. When I barely slept, had to get three kids out in below freezing weather, and barely made it out the door is the day a bitch wants to try me.

Within five minutes of walking through the door, she is telling my kids to sit down and stop screaming.

Uhm. No. I am a bear when it comes to my children. No one speaks to them without my consent.

I did not make them listen to this woman. Not only that, but I sat there debating actually saying something to her about it. Was it worth it? Would she fight back? Would I go to jail today?

Thirty minutes past our appointment time, they call us back. As I stand up, I look her in the eye, shake my finger at her, and tell her these are not her children.

I should have said it sooner, but anxiety got the best of me. I would never try to parent someone else’s child. It may take a village, but if you’re not a part of mine, you can kindly fuck off.

I harbor anxiety in my gut, and so for the last few hours I have been physically sick. My stomach is in knots. I was already on a low time before all this happened. It is taking me even longer to emotionally recover from this violation of my parenting.

So, as a reminder to all the world: it costs $0.00 to mind your own business.

It’s been a few days since I last posted. I’m going to be honest, I’m only about 20 minutes in to my ten thousand hours. I’m having some seriously bad days.

I’m still on my medicine, no worries. I still have bad days on my medicine, they’re just less intense and broken up by more good days. These last few days have definitely been lower.

I’m slower, I’m lethargic, and every last inconvenience stresses me out. I can barely concentrate to type these paragraphs. I just want to numb myself with crap tv and a daily routine of coffee and alcohol. My schedule nor my budget allows for that.

Today I had to see my gynecologist for hormonal issues. Yes, hormonal issues on top of depression is likely what’s making it worse, I know. Thankfully my doctor seemed keen to solve whatever issues caused me from having zero periods in two years to having a two week heavy bleed out of nowhere. However, before I could even see the doctor, I had to deal with three kids running around, fighting, screaming, and undressing in the lobby. (If you’re in the Permian basin and want to babysit, please hit me up. I need help, y’all!) By the time they called me back, my blood pressure was up! It was stressful, but shouldn’t have affected me THAT much.

Aside from my physical issues, I have the obvious mental issues as well. I feel hopeless. I feel like I should know how to make myself feel better, and I don’t. I feel like I should know how to make my kids behave better, and I don’t. I feel like I should know a lot of things that I don’t. It makes me feel weak and on edge. It also makes me think about death, and the divine knowledge that comes with it.

I’m not suicidal or anything. It’s just a thought. I fight it. I fight every day. And I win.

I’m stronger than this, though I’ve struggled these last few days.

I realize my last post made my husband sound slightly like a Disney villain. This is so NOT the case. He is amazing and wonderful and everything good about life. We just had a few years of not being able to grow at the same time, and it caused problems.

When we first met, and even as newlyweds, I wasn’t as vocal about mental health. I hadn’t officially been diagnosed, and when I would say things like, “I’m so depressed,” he assumed I was overreacting to a bad day. Even once I decided I wanted a diagnosis, he said I couldn’t claim to be depressed until I was actually diagnosed.

We were having a really hard time in our marriage. In fact, our marriage almost ended. What we didn’t know was that we BOTH were having mental health issues. By denying my mental illness, he was also able to deny HIS mental illness.

Once he took a step back and saw how badly I was suffering, he did come around and encourage me to seek help. He agreed to support me in my treatment, and stick with me while I worked on myself and our marriage. He refused couples therapy time and again, but he was trying.

It was still rough going, as he didn’t know much about mental health or how to love someone suffering. That took some time to change, but it did happen.

The biggest change came when I asked him to see someone for his anger issues. Once he finally gave in and went, he was actually diagnosed with anxiety! Then it came out his dad had anxiety, and used it as an excuse for borderline abusive behaviors. No wonder he didn’t want to admit he had issues.

He actually accepted taking medicine long before I did!

Since then, he has learned to be super supportive, work on himself, and help me work on myself! We’ve never been healthier! He even has been diagnosed with additional mental illnesses including depression and PTSD.

We have a difficult relationship where both of us struggle to stay “sane,” but we make it work together. We support and love each other even when we can’t love ourselves. We encourage each other, and remind each other to medicate. He even was 100% behind me dedicating 10,000 hours of my life to something like hockey. I love this man more than words.

Can I just say how much I appreciate my medication? It’s not perfect, and I still have bad days, but I am more able to rebound from a bad day and enjoy myself.

Last night was one of those times. I had a pretty rough morning. I was stressed about medicine, the baby had barely slept, and the boys were being absolutely wild. However, we made a fun family dinner, enjoyed our favorite family show, and then watched a bit of the Stars game before bed.

At one point, my husband actually asked if I was drunk. I wasn’t. I was on lexapro. I was laughing, making jokes with the boys, cheering on my team, making corny puns, and overwhelmingly enjoying myself.

I fought medication tooth and nail before I finally decided it was necessary. I saw taking “bottled happiness” as a weakness. I was seceding to the illness if I medicated. Stubborn, much?

About six years ago, I was finally diagnosed with depression. I had known I had it since I was twelve, but this was the first I’d seen a medical professional. My marriage was crumbling, I hid myself away from the world, I had my first bout of panic attacks, and had entertained the idea of not being alive anymore. I needed help.

I’m from a family that doesn’t acknowledge mental illnesses, so I had very little knowledge of treatment other than “pray it away” and “choose happiness.” So helpful. (Rolls eyes so hard I see my own brain.) My husband, also, was from a non-mental-health family. Therefore, he said I was crazy. He even said if I was diagnosed with depression he would commit me and take my kid away, because I was too crazy to be a parent. Super helpful.

Finally. After months and months and months of living in a mental hell, he admitted that I needed to see someone, and that he would support me. So, I made an appointment.

I’m filled out my little mental health screening (which I have become very familiar with, since I’ve done about a hundred since) and, surprise!, depression. The doctor tried to send me to therapy, but only loonies take therapy, so I refused. He then insisted on me taking Wellbutrin.

After several minutes of being told I really and truly needed to be medicated, I reluctantly took the prescription.

I took exactly one pill. It made me extremely sick. I was nauseous, I had double vision, I felt dizzy, everything sounded underwater. It was terrible. Obviously that doctor was a quack job, and I didn’t need medication. So…I did what any sane person would do, I googled.

I googled foods to help with depression, I googled coping mechanisms, I googled yoga, and I googled “natural” medicines. Nothing helped. Not even a little bit. After quite a few more months, I decided to go back to the doctor. Who gave me a different dose of the exact same thing.

Same reaction.

It was another two years before I would seek help again. I was pregnant with my second baby after fertility treatments. My hormones were haywire, and I had some pretty powerful panic attacks. I was afraid the polar chemical baths of my mental issues would cause issues with the baby, so I sought help from my OB.

I very blatantly stated I would not be taking medication. He said the only other option would be therapy. I finally had to go to therapy.

I did therapy for the remainder of my pregnancy. It helped a bit; I can’t argue that. It wasn’t doing as much as I would have liked. I still was depressed, and he mostly helped me not feel guilty for being depressed. He gave me coping mechanisms and taught me about self care. Then, I had the baby, quit therapy, and was back in the same mess.

After another year of untreated depression and another attempt at therapy later, I got sick. I thought I was dying. I had never been so sick before in my life. The physical strain of my depression had weakened my body to the point that I wasn’t sure I could keep my own children during the day. I had tremors in my arms and legs nonstop. I was tired all the time. I couldn’t get enough sleep. I didn’t have the energy to even clean my house. I was out of breath from walking to the car. I got headaches at the drop of a hat. It terrified me. I thought I had some sort of rare disease that was going to make me sleep to death.

I saw one doctor, who told me all this was from my depression. I said she was crazy, and promptly transferred my medical records to a new doctor…WHO TOLD ME THE EXACT SAME THING. I wasn’t even aware that depression had physical effects. Much less that they were this severe.

The new doctor said he would work with me on medication, and wouldn’t prescribe me Wellbutrin if I didn’t want it. We finally settled on lexapro, and adjusted my dose to suit me.

You guys, I can’t even begin to tell you what a difference it made. I was to the point that I didn’t even know who I was without depression. I didn’t know I had a personality. I didn’t know how I acted happy. Everything changed with one little white pill. Bottled happiness was better than no happiness!

I still didn’t want to be on the pill forever. That was ridiculous. Who needs pills forever? I was going to make myself better and wean myself off.

Yeah, I tried twice, and always wind up a sobbing, shaky mess in a matter of months.

I may never be able to come off the pill. I may just have to move from pill to pill every time I get used to one for the rest of my life. I may never have natural happiness outside of a prescription bottle, but at least I’ll be happy. At least I’ll be myself. I won’t have to identify with my mental illness alone anymore. And I’m becoming ok with that.

Today is much less sugary. I’m still on my medicine, don’t worry. Today had just been hard. Mondays normally are for me.

It’s super cliche isn’t it? It’s true, though.

I rely on my husband for happiness much more than I should. Even when he’s being super annoying (always) he makes me feel happier by being near. He works Monday through Friday, so I’m pretty bummed on Mondays.

Also, we homeschool. It’s probably my least favorite thing to do, but the school system here isn’t equipped to give my special needs son the attention and help he needs. They gave him A/B grades and passed him to second grade, and he can’t even read. I am having to devote so much time and effort just to help him play catch-up academically.

And, finally, my depression leaves me tired and reclusive. So, I don’t really get out much during the week. I say it’s because it’s difficult to get all three kids dressed and ready to go by myself, but I doubt I’d get out much even if I didn’t have the kids. My husband can normally coax me out on the weekends, but I barely leave the house during the week.

These culminate to me absolutely despising Mondays. Not sorry.

I’m not just sitting back and complaining, though. I’m working on myself. I’m not ready to leave my comfort zone, yet, but I am, at least, trying to be productive. I’m making a doctors appointment for my feminine issues as soon as the office opens from lunch. That’s something, at least.

I also plan on reading a bit more on the Official Rulebook for the NHL. It’s slow-going, and I don’t understand a lot of the jargon, yet. I’m picking up a bit here and there as I read. I can always go back over the rulebook once I understand more, but this is a starting place. We are pretty new to hockey, to be honest.

When my son was in school, they did a bunch of different sports throughout the year as part of their Physical Education curriculum. Hockey was one he was particularly interested in, and went on and on about how much fun it was.

As a supportive mother, I found hockey toys for him for Christmas, we started playing the games on the TV when we saw one, and we even went ice skating together! Of course, about the time I did all this, he was onto the next obsession. He was done with hockey. Absolutely done. He didn’t ever want to see hockey again.

It was too late. My husband and I were hooked. We started following the Dallas Stars religiously. We watched their trades and draft picks. We stayed up way too late on weeknights to catch games. We even drove three hours up to Dallas to see a pre-season game! Y’all, I have never even been into sports, and I instagrammed the playoffs last year. It’s an obsession. We’re in withdrawals from not going to another game, so we’re trying to plan a time we can make the (now 5 hour) drive to another game!

Needless to say, my son is pretty annoyed, but it has given me one more thing to throw myself into when I’m on a low. Now, it has given me something to dedicate ten thousand hours to.

He can’t complain too much, because he did enjoy the soda and popcorn he gets at the games. He also got a blanket and a puck last time, because my husband absolutely spoils these boys. All in all, it has become a fun family event to follow and enjoy!

And today, ladies and gentlemen, life was viewed through the sugary haze of lexapro. Yes, I am back on my medicine. I started back a few weeks ago after having not made time to renew my prescription during our move and transition leave. It finally has hit my system again, and I’m feeling great for now.

I’m thankful for that, too, because I’m on day 12 of my period. Yes, twelve! It is my first one in two years because of breastfeeding, but if it doesn’t stop soon I’ll have to see a doctor! Needless to say, I have no energy, and my iron is lowering by the day!

It is also Sunday, meaning it’s mother-son-day. Every Sunday, I spend some one-on-one time with one of my boys. The first Sunday of the month goes to my oldest, the second to my middle, and third to the baby. Low iron and fatigue wasn’t stopping him. Thankfully, I was medicated enough to enjoy the day together.

And enjoy it, we did! We went to Walmart first because my husband needed me to pick something up, and we walked through the toys and Christmas sections. Boring, I know, but we made a good time of it. Then it was time for the main event! Pottery painting!

We drove down to a little pottery shop near our apartment, The Painted Potter. This place is amazing! I can’t stop telling people to go there. After looking at all the wonderful pieces they have to offer, we chose coffee cups. We then chose our paint colors, washed our mugs, and spent a beautiful hour together talking and painting. I was nearly brought to tears when he looked up at me with the biggest smile and said, “I love you, mom.”

Once we came home, we made some dinner and put the Christmas tree up. Don’t judge me.

I’m still tired. My iron is still low, but I was able to enjoy today. Life was beautiful. Laughter was in the air. I felt like I could make it through, for once. If all my days were this easy, I could see myself enjoying my years instead of wondering how long this life would drag on for me.

Now, I’m sitting here beside a sleeping baby while my husband plays his PlayStation. The older boys are playing by the light of the tree, and I’m at ease. I’m about to continue reading up on the hockey rule book to add a few minutes to my ten thousand hours, but I’m doing it for FUN! Not to escape. Not to empty my mind of its sorrow and worry. Not because it’s the only thing keeping me sane. Just. Because. I. Want. To. That is so impressive to me.