It's been a couple of months since I popped in here. I went back and re-read my last post, and really wish I could say that all the angst that was there is gone. In short, it's not. I truly cannot believe how long all this stuff is hanging on. The good news is I have gotten better about voicing when I need space, and about saying no if I just can't muster the energy to go out.
What has hit me more in the last couple of months is the look I get from people when I tell them I am not yet back at work. I always get "but you look fine". If you want to make someone going through mental illness agitated, tell them they look fine. On top of feeling like you have to explain, the feelings of guilt associated with not being whole yet set in at a whole new level. For me, what I wish people would understand is that I've become a master of faking it. I can slap a smile on my face and head out for dinner; I can cheer at my daughter's cheerleading practices and competitions; I can keep things in order most of the time as long as I have a list; I can hide the days that make this whole thing the hardest thing I've ever been through.
What people don't see are the days when a panic attack takes over and I literally have to call my husband just to talk me down; they don't see the multitude of tears that are shed because I'm tired of dealing with this shit or for no reason at all; they don't experience the wrath of my short fuse or swing of emotions; they don't see me struggle to get up the stairs because my joints feel like they are on fire all the time; they don't see that smiling daily sometimes doesn't happen - because I fake it. I'm not looking for sympathy (in fact please don't feel sorry for me), but I want people to understand why the phrase "you look fine" upsets me.
The thing is, I'm tired of feeling guilty or trying to explain when people don't get why I say I'm not ok. I don't owe anyone an explanation cause, honestly, the people that see me daily do see me with my mask off. My husband is a rockstar - he gets it and just hugs me (or leaves me alone - he can tell when to do which) until the crazy has passed. My kids have come to understand that most time my short fuse doesn't have to do with them (apologies go a long way in making sure they know it's not about them).
Even with the cuckoo that can take over, I am trying. I have, however, gotten a new perspective. I was the person that always said "just decide to be happy" or "don't stress about things that are our of your control or that you cannot change". Man I must have sounded like an idiot to those I was saying it to. I have tried getting up in the morning and "deciding" to be happy; I've tried meditating to let go of the things I cannot control; I've tried shaking off the feelings of inadequacy, I've tried just moving on and applying the tricks that help discover the new me (also decided I hate that term). You know what happens when I try to do this? I feel worse cause it doesn't work and I spiral. Then I get mad cause I'm like WTF is wrong with me?? For me, right now, this doesn't work.
Having said all this, things seem to be a little bit better. Headaches are still a thing; memory loss is still a thing; pain is sticking around; concentration and retention of information are nowhere to be found; fatigue has set up camp in my bones; the feeling of meh persists. But I did find myself sitting around the dinner table laughing while my kiddos danced and hubby told stories. Seems like a small thing, but laughing made me feel a tiny bit normal. I think moving forward I will put myself in situations where laughter prevails - and the tears become tears of joy. Fingers crossed!!
Thanks for everyone who listens to (or reads) my rants. It is appreciated and it does help me :-) With any luck, they will turn into "I'm ready to take on the world" posts in the near future - although my next post may be lots of reminiscing about my babies - I'll be sending my oldest off to university in September and I already feel verklempt.
J
