If anyone was taking roll call on the internet these days, that’s what they’d have to mark me down as. “Absent”. It wouldn’t tell the whole story, but it’s the closest they could come.
If you read this blog, you know I keep it fairly light. Kind of amusing, but not really personal. But at the same time, this blog is me. And I feel like I’ve been lying. Not that I’ve been bullshitting you, more like there’s stuff I’m not telling. I don’t use my blog to air dirty laundry, but I feel like I’ve hit a wall, and I need to get around it, let you see behind it, if I’m going to keep letting you see my life.
Actually, make that Depressed, capital “D”.
This is nothing new. I’ve always been that way. As a kid, I didn’t have a name for it, I just gradually figured out that I didn’t react to stuff the way the other kids did. And as a teenager, I wrote it off to teen angst bullshit. But as I left the teens, started being a Grown Up, I realized it was more. And once I finally had this big, stable presence in my life (i.e. Owen), I let myself admit it, that there was something wrong in my brain, that I needed help.
I was 23 the first time I saw a professional, 24 when I first went on medication. And it helped. Nearly immediately. Depression is hereditary, and it runs in my family. (It doesn’t just run, it actually kind of gallops, pushing down everything in its path.) Some periods have been harder than others. I’ve been hospitalized twice – once in my early 20’s, and once while I was pregnant with my son. I’ve been on medications for the greater part of the last 10 years, going off when I felt stronger, getting back on when I had to. For the record, I don’t love being on the medication. I get dull. There are side effects. I don’t want to be on them. But I may have to, soon.
It’s been getting harder, lately. Harder to get anything done, with zero motivation. Harder to interact with people – every time I see someone I know, I’m left wondering if they can tell, am I scaring them off? Harder to function, because my body starts to react, with colds that won’t go away, sciatica, and the occasional chest-tightening anxiety attack.
So what does this mean, on a go-forward basis? Well, if you know me in real life, don’t be alarmed. I may cry at inappropriate times (like, say, in the middle of a school council meeting. I don’t think anyone saw, but still, awkward). I might not be able to make conversation on a consistent basis. There’s a good chance that I may let you down, in some way. But I probably won’t. Realistically, from the outside, it’ll pretty much be business as usual.
And if I know you cyber-ly? There’s a good chance I may not post for a good while. (Or I may post every day.) (Probably the former, rather than the latter, but you never know.)
I’m going to be OK. That I know.
Because there are two small people, and one big one, who need me to be OK. And so I will be.