I'm still here...

I gotta' say, there is a lot of love out there.  I can't even begin to express how much it means to me. 

Thank you my dear family, friends, and blogging world buddies, for showing my family and I such copious amounts of support and concern.  Thank you for the strengthening and uplifting comments and for the numerous phone calls (sorry to those of you I still haven't called back...there were just so many).

I seem to have caused a lot of worry over my last blog post.  Please don't be overly concerned.  Yes, I had a really REALLY crappy day.  And...I wrote about it for all to see.

I'm not gone.  I'm not as bad off as I have been before.  Just dealing with a lot and struggling with how to cope.

I seem to forget that even people who are mentally stable have bad days.  I get really worked up about it, wondering if total darkness is hanging in the balance waiting to swallow me up whole again.  I forget that it's "normal". 

It gets especially bad when I spend hours and hours on the computer reading of others tragedy and pain.  How can one not expect to be affected by that? 

And then to get caught up in the never ending downward spiral of a game called contemplate-and-list-as-many-of-your-worries-and-faults-as-you-possibly-can-in-the-shortest-amount-of-time-until-you-break-down-from-sheer-exhaustion-from-berating-and-belittling-yourself-and-from-heart-break-and-then-try-NOT-to-be-depressed-and-think-you-are-just-about-the-worst-person-in-the-world.

Yeah....I hate that game.  Sigh... you think I would know better.

 But, you see, it's actually a good thing, really.  I've been thinking for some time about compiling a self-improvement agenda...and now I have one.  Granted, the entire world has access to it....not very flattering...but at least I have a jumping off point.  :)

Please know that I am doing much, MUCH better today.  I'm still not 100%, but much better.

Just trying to focus on things I CAN do, not on what I don't do.

Roberto is keeping a watchful eye on me.  He always does.  I'm one lucky lady.

I'll leave you with one of my favorite, situationally fitting, songs.  I've shared it here before, but it's message is always one worth remembering.

I HOPE you enjoy!
 
P.S. I love to hear from you!
Leave a comment or e-mail me at melaniesmethodicalmusings at gmail dot com

This is no laughing matter

I seem to be experiencing some sort of emotional hangover this morning.

Yesterday was a pretty bad day.  I often say that I am not a crier and normally that's true.  But there are exceptions to the rule...and yesterday just happened to be one.

It was just one of those days.  You know, "those" kind of days.

I spent the morning reading this amazing woman's story.  Blog post after blog post after heart breaking blog post.  Such a tragic few months she has had to deal with.  Losing her handicapped son and then unexpectedly losing her husband less than 4 months later.

She writes of tragedy, hurt, heartbreak.  She also writes of laughter.  Lots of laughter.  Love.  A household full of love.  Friendship.  The type that connects one person to another so that they feel incapable of going on without the other.  Those kinds of things.

I cried.  I cried a lot.  I cried with her, I cried for her.  And then I began to cry for myself.  Cry for my family.  Cry for all that was lacking in our lives.  Lacking in our home.

I cried because if this same kind of tragedy happened to our family, we wouldn't be able to get through it.  Not because we wouldn't want to but because there is just not enough laughter and love in our home capable of sustaining us through such strain.  We would snap.  We would fall apart.  We're already falling apart.

I cried because I can't laugh anymore.  Not that I don't laugh.  I do.  I love to make people laugh and I usually laugh right along.  I cover up my true inability with sarcasm and funny stories and things that don't really matter all that much but I never laugh out of pure humor.  I never laugh at the silly things my kids do.  I smile...sometimes even genuinely...but I never let go and laugh.  You know what I mean.  The kind of laughter that bubbles up inside of you and springs forth from pure joy.  The kind of laughter that makes you feel lighthearted and just plain happy.  Yeah...that kind of laughter.  I'm just not capable of that any more.  And it makes me sad.  Very sad.  I mourn the loss of it more than I mourn anything else. 

I cried because I'm not sure my children know how much I love them.  I DO love them.  I just don't know if they know it.  Not that I don't say it, I do, but how often do I FEEL it.  Hardly ever.  And it's hard to fake what you don't feel.  At least it is for me.  Perhaps I should have taken acting classes.  I'm a horrible actress.  They know I get frustrated and annoyed by them.  They know I try to tolerate them.  But do they actually know that I love them?  I don't know.

I cried as this strong woman talked of her brave oldest son, who would now assume responsibility as the "man of the house".  I cried because I don't believe my emotionally scarred oldest son would ever offer to do this, as hers did.  I cried because of what part I have played in his emotional struggles.  I cried because he seems to be irreparably tied to me emotionally and is taking a nose dive right along with me right now.  I just hate it.  I don't ever ask God "why me?"  but I do ask "why him?"

I cried because not that long ago life was full.  I was happy. 

June 2011: 

"For now I feel good.  I feel really good.  I can't remember the last time I walked around day after day with a great sense of well being and happiness.  True happiness.  It's amazes me.  I'm still in awe."

I had purpose, felt inspired, and was ready to take on the world of depression and crush it.  I felt the dark days were behind me.  But I was wrong.  I cried because I mourn the loss of those days.  The fact that I can't seem to get them back. 

I cried because I can't keep up with life.  There are just too many obstacles, too many responsibilities, and too many struggles to take in.  I'm overwhelmed with all that pulls at my time, my emotions, and my brain functions.  I've lost focus of what's really important and what can be put on the side.  It all feels like it should be at the top of the priority list and I can't keep up.  And I'm tired.  Just tired.

I cried because I feel powerless to fix any of this.  Not HOPEless, there is always HOPE, but powerless....because, on  my own, I am powerless.

and lastly,

I cried because I have, inadvertently, isolated myself from the only two beings whom have the power to help me, my loving Heavenly Father and His Son Jesus Christ.  It's wasn't an intentional thing.  I didn't intend to separate myself from them.  I just got distracted and started putting other things first.

Then came the move, the miscarriages and the bombshell. 

It's no wonder the dark fog of depression started to settle back in and with it the jumbled thoughts, the extreme fatigue, and the lack of desire to do anything.  The less I communicated with the Lord, the less I would feel, the less I felt the less desire I had to communicate.  It's a vicious cycle.

And not much has changed.

I'm trying.  I don't think I have the ability to give up completely, even if I really really want to.

After breaking down again, in conversation with my husband, last night after the kids were in bed, he sighed and said, "So what are you going to do about it?"  (So typical of a man, right?) 

and, per my typical answer, "I don't know?"

And today, I still don't. 

It all seems like too much work.  Too much effort.
  Just too much.  I'm tired.

I feel like crawling into bed and staying there for a long while. 

I won't.  Because...I just don't.  But I want to. 

And then again, I don't.

I want to live again.  I want to laugh again.  I want to do things for my children and my husband, so they know how much I love them.  I want to feel love for them again.  I want to help my oldest heal again.  I want to be happy.  And I want to be filled with the Spirit of the Lord again.  To feel close to God again.  To bask in his glow.

I want to know that if my family ever had to face such tragedy, that we would be okay.  That, somehow, we would be strong enough to move on, intact.


Now I just have to find the motivation to get us to that place. 

I've done it once before and I can certainly do it again.

Somehow.

But still, I'm just so tired.
 
 P.S. I love to hear from you!
 Leave a comment or e-mail me at melaniesmethodicalmusings at gmail dot com