Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Adjusting Luna - tic

OK. I promised myself I would no longer use my blog as a diary where I would gripe and moan about my personal life. "Save it for the actual written diary," I told myself, "where I can safely vent without beating the hell out of myself (emotionally) for having sold my soul to the post. I should be strong enough not to need back pats in comment form."

That was the first lie.

If you've ever seen me actually write anything, you know that I use colored pens that represent specific patterns and moods. Even for work, when I am in a particularly peaceful mood I use green pen, and if I am pissed, I use my teeth to angrily pull the cap off of the red one. I have quirks and compulsions that dictate how I do everything. And even something reletively small, like chosing which cd to listen to, can become a dramatic, life altering experience for all of the fretting I do. And if I can't figure it out, I shut down..completely.

Writing it out can help. OK, not so much with cd selection, but with other things. Why I thought I could keep my personal life out of the blog is beyond me. Plus, I spent an entire afternoon covering up/tearing out the sad days from my diary so that if Jack ever found it, he wouldn't know how crazy I am. Like he wouldn't know after one crisis evening when I break down because I can't decide if I should make spaghetti for dinner or macaroni and cheese. But the diary is not working for me these days. The empowering wo-manifesto that begins it is covered in dust bunnies.

I have been successfully off of mood-altering medication for five years now. I have compensated for this by using various mind tricks.. er methods. I fend off the anxiety attacks by using mantras like, "This is anxiety. It isn't real. Breathe in. Breathe out. In and out."

The depression has been more of a trickster. I feel close to that emotion. It is the most comfortable of all of them. I have to work exceptionally hard at not welcoming "the sad", or allowing myself to dismiss it as nothing worth mentioning.

That being said, I guess I need to mention it.

I know my hormones are out of whack. They have been for more than a year. Since I miscarried Dot, I think. This isn't an excuse. A friend asked me the other day how my life has been affected (positively and/or negatively) postpartum. My answer was not OK. So I didn't mention it. And I won't here. Suffice to say that something needs to change for me, whether I go back on the meds or seek another solution.

For now, I recognize that I need to do what's best for my baby and for Rich. I'm not sure what it is, yet. But hopefully, it will come to me. Either that or work will distract me.

Work starts next week.

No comments:

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Adjusting Luna - tic

OK. I promised myself I would no longer use my blog as a diary where I would gripe and moan about my personal life. "Save it for the actual written diary," I told myself, "where I can safely vent without beating the hell out of myself (emotionally) for having sold my soul to the post. I should be strong enough not to need back pats in comment form."

That was the first lie.

If you've ever seen me actually write anything, you know that I use colored pens that represent specific patterns and moods. Even for work, when I am in a particularly peaceful mood I use green pen, and if I am pissed, I use my teeth to angrily pull the cap off of the red one. I have quirks and compulsions that dictate how I do everything. And even something reletively small, like chosing which cd to listen to, can become a dramatic, life altering experience for all of the fretting I do. And if I can't figure it out, I shut down..completely.

Writing it out can help. OK, not so much with cd selection, but with other things. Why I thought I could keep my personal life out of the blog is beyond me. Plus, I spent an entire afternoon covering up/tearing out the sad days from my diary so that if Jack ever found it, he wouldn't know how crazy I am. Like he wouldn't know after one crisis evening when I break down because I can't decide if I should make spaghetti for dinner or macaroni and cheese. But the diary is not working for me these days. The empowering wo-manifesto that begins it is covered in dust bunnies.

I have been successfully off of mood-altering medication for five years now. I have compensated for this by using various mind tricks.. er methods. I fend off the anxiety attacks by using mantras like, "This is anxiety. It isn't real. Breathe in. Breathe out. In and out."

The depression has been more of a trickster. I feel close to that emotion. It is the most comfortable of all of them. I have to work exceptionally hard at not welcoming "the sad", or allowing myself to dismiss it as nothing worth mentioning.

That being said, I guess I need to mention it.

I know my hormones are out of whack. They have been for more than a year. Since I miscarried Dot, I think. This isn't an excuse. A friend asked me the other day how my life has been affected (positively and/or negatively) postpartum. My answer was not OK. So I didn't mention it. And I won't here. Suffice to say that something needs to change for me, whether I go back on the meds or seek another solution.

For now, I recognize that I need to do what's best for my baby and for Rich. I'm not sure what it is, yet. But hopefully, it will come to me. Either that or work will distract me.

Work starts next week.

No comments: