Thursday, February 2, 2017

Hints Of Depression

Tomorrow marks two weeks since we had to put Athena down. Of course we had known the date we scheduled two weeks prior to that. Looking back, really it was Thanksgiving when we finally caved to the idea that she wasn't going to be around much longer. We knew she had lost a little weight, and her eyes looked a little glossy (the start of cataracts), but at Thanksgiving, my parents came over, and my mom immediately said something about the way Athena looked. My mom hasn't been to the house much because she had been feeling unwell off and on (that's a whole other story). Anyway, that's when we knew, when someone else notices the changes, it becomes real.

My goal was for her to make it to her birthday on December 17th, then to Christmas. Once we realized she wasn't going to be around much longer, she seemed to decline at a rapid pace.

It's been one heck of an emotional rollercoaster since then. I try to keep myself busy by writing, or going over the budget, or starting on a project. I will sit at my computer for hours fiddling with my Excel sheet on our finances, tweaking things, just so I'm not sitting here lost in thought. Still, I have moments that I stray, and the tears come.

It's been 10 weeks that I have cried EVERY SINGLE DAY! 70 days. Every day from Thanksgiving on. Every day of 2017.

I've stopped eating so much. We are a family of grazers. We snack all day long. I just don't feel like eating now. I've actually lost 6 pounds! For someone whose weight hasn't fluctuated in 5 years except for that one time I tried to count calories and get healthy, that's saying something.

I've practically lived in a flannel and pajama pants for the past month. We didn't have karate or music lessons in January, so we could spend more time with Athena. I left the house four or five times in January, and one of them was the vet appointment.

I watch the chickens a lot. I sit at the window in the library and stare out across our side yard and watch. There are dishes and laundry and schooling, but I don't care.

I've become anal about meal planning. Our budget isn't the greatest right now, so I've actually compared prices on Amazon and the local grocery stores, created spreadsheets, and figured out how much each of our meals cost. Not the healthiest meals, and lots of repeats, but it's getting us through the lean time.

I don't care to be social at all. This is actually somewhat normal for me. I'm an introvert, and really awkward in public settings, but I normally keep quiet, listen in, and can input a pleasantry when needed. Right now I make sure I keep my mouth shut. I am so tired and angry and depressed, my nice filter is gone, and I really don't want to unload crap on some unsuspecting acquaintance or stranger even.

My anxiety medication is being used on a regular basis. I haven't had day in January that my chest hasn't felt like the beginning of a heart attack. Sitting in quiet places, by the fire, or in the dark of my bedroom, help very little right now.

All of the projects that need to happen around the homestead have an Excel sheet tab. I am working on making materials lists and breaking down costs. It's one of those things that keep me busy from thinking to much and spiraling down further.

Why am I writing all of this out? Well, writing does help, but if reading this helps one person understand the inner workings of what depression can look like a little better, then I call this writing successful. I honestly don't know what Luke thinks. I get so lost in my own world, I don't know how he is handling the same issues. I know he wants to help me, but he doesn't know how. He gives me my space though, and helps distract me, which is nice. I don't think the girls have noticed a change. I try to keep it hidden from them.

It's February now, and we are back to lessons and real life and gearing up for girl scout cookies. Maybe all of these distractions will help. Maybe the fog will start to lift.

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