Throw me a line.

There are times I hate my brain and the way it seems to short circuit. I get tired of the fight, and I just want it to stop. 


I get tired of hating me.


No. I'm not suicidal. I'm not homicidal, either, (although it's still probably not a good idea to poke the bear right now). I am just struggling. A lot. And it is at times like this that I can understand why some people turn to drugs, alcohol and food to drown out the unwanted thoughts.


I know that this is a temporary thing, but I am ready for it to ease up already. I'm tired and losing the will to fight. Losing all motivation. And that person is not who I consider myself to be, nor whom I want to be. 


I find myself withdrawing from life, and I need to find a way back.

My get up and go got up and went.

I've been a bit discouraged lately. I've fallen out of some of the good habits that I worked so hard to establish. It's not that I'm actively acquiring things and adding to the hoard that lives in my house, but I've noticed my thought process isn't working nearly as well as it has at the height of my dehoarding. And while I realize my oomph and will for reaching my goal will ebb and flow on a daily basis, I have to admit that I'm tired of the ebb. It's lasted too long.


When we got the word that Hopper had broken her leg and would need the emergency surgery back in June, I started to stumble. That stumble turned into a free fall the moment I thought she had died in my arms and continued through the hospitalization and rehabilitation once we got home. When Hopper seemed to be getting back to her old self about 6.5 weeks after she broke her leg, the speed on the free fall slowed quite a bit, but I was still in a descent. 


A few ago I realized why I was feeling so out of control. With everything going on this summer with Hopper's leg, Bugster and Bubster's wedding, and the situation at school for Scooter I had completely forgotten about taking my meds. It explains why I've had such a hard time getting back in the groove of things, and why I can't seem to think straight.


I've noticed lately that I'm struggling with making decisions about getting rid of things. I've been second guessing myself, and as a result, I've put off dehoarding and even writing in my blog I've been so discouraged. I've felt almost paralyzed as a result of my indecisiveness, and it's driving me crazy. I want to get things done like I did at the height of my dehoarding. I want to get this stuff out of my house.


I started back on my meds a few days ago, and I will be diligent about taking them daily from now on. I can't afford to be paralyzed mentally like I've been. I feel like I'm trying to make it through quicksand. Like I'm being crushed to death by the weight of the pressure. Hyperventilating. Unable to draw a breath into my lungs. 


So yeah. I won't be forgetting my meds again anytime soon. 


I'm slowly but surely finding my way out of the dark. 


I made my way back into the study the last couple of days. I sorted through 3 more rather difficult boxes, with at least 95% of the stuff going into the shredables, the trash or into a 'get rid of' box. 


I do have to admit that I was excited to find some things I saved over the years as a reminder of just how far the girls have come. I found Scooter's feeding tube and feeding button she had to have when she was little, along with Hopper's ear pieces from the hearing aides she wore when she was much younger. (We donated the actual hearing aides years ago). In another bag, I found the images from when Hopper had her heart repaired as well as the spare coil they didn't have to use. I joked around that we needed to keep it, in case she needed an oil change. 


Mom didn't laugh, but I thought it was funny. 


And as odd as it seems to keep these particular things, I don't know, if I'll ever be ready to throw them out. They represent some major milestones in the girls' lives, and they're a physical reminder of just how much we've been through as a family. I want to make them into tasteful Christmas ornaments for our tree.  


Don't look at me like that.


It can be done!


Hubster took 9 more bags of shredables out the door yesterday, so that makes 72 grocery bags of preshredded documents to have left the house since I started this journey 18 months ago. I updated my sidebar to help me remind me of just how much I have accomplished. It just helps to see that sometimes.


I did use the portable document scanner the other night that Hubster got me for my birthday this summer. I can't explain how truly wonderful it was to scan some of the paperwork and then put it directly in the box to shred. I felt like I could breathe just a little bit deeper with each document that found it's way into the shredables.


I like breathing. 


I think I'll try to do it a little more often.

Self-preservation.

My entire life I've dealt with varying degrees of depression.


In high school, I survived a suicide attempt. 


After Bugster was born, I dealt with postpartum depression. I began feeling suicidal and started having horrible thoughts about hurting our baby. It scared me to death. I got help and worked through things until I was out of trouble, but it's something of which I've always been acutely aware, because I never, ever want to get to that point again.


A few years ago, I found out that I had a severe Vitamin D deficiency. Since I started supplementing with Vitamin D, I've found I don't go as deeply into the depths as I have in the past, and I'm so very grateful for that. The antidepressant I've been on for several years has helped as well, but the Vitamin D definitely had more of a positive affect on me than it did.


I know that depression will always be a part of who I am, and I know that there are certain situations, and unfortunately, certain people I must avoid to keep my head above water. I struggle with having to limit my friendships with certain people, because I do know that everyone needs a friend, but I also know that I can't always be it. It quite literally is for my own self-preservation.


When I was dealing with the postpartum, I had a friend who lived across the street from us. She and her husband were having marital problems, and she constantly harped about how horrible he was. I don't recall her saying more than a handful of positive things about him or their relationship. Granted, neither my husband nor I had a really high opinion of him, but that wasn't the issue. The issue was that the more I was around her the more I found myself finding things wrong with my own husband. Things that I used to just take for normal quirks and differences soon became arguing point.


I was shocked when I realized how contagious negativity was for me and how I had allowed myself to be drawn in. I slowly started to distance myself from her, because I didn't want our friendship to interfere in my marriage. Thankfully, we moved away less than a year later, but before we had a chance to get out of there, my 'friend'  cheated on her husband and ran off with another guy.


I felt like I had betrayed my husband's trust by talking with her, by venting to her about every little thing about my husband that annoyed me, and it devastated me knowing I played an active part in it. I know the postpartum played a role in all of it, but it was still no excuse. I allowed myself to be drawn into her train wreck, and our marriage could have easily become a casualty. 


Don't get me wrong. I know that not all marriages are good marriages. And sometimes, people need to vent. To confide that things aren't going so well, because they're scared, and they need advice, and they want reassurance. I get that. But there's a huge difference between an occasional venting and someone being negative about their spouse with almost every word they speak. 


I knew then that the only way our marriage would work would be for me to stay away from people who were willing to regularly trash their spouses. It makes my heart heavy, and I want to help, but I can't. My husband and our marriage means the world to me, and I just can't go there. And to be blunt, Hubster is much more important to me than their problems and even than the friendship in which I may have an investment. 


I made that mistake once, and I'm never going to allow it to happen again. My husband and our marriage is always going to come first. Because we really are that good together, and because he means the world to me.


Because we are worth it.


It's all a matter of self-preservation.