This Is Me Maria

The other day I ordered an urn for my mom’s ashes. I did it because thinking about her makes me SO ANGRY but deep down, I know that her death ruined my life. I need to remember that if I die it could very well ruin my children’s lives. They are the innocent in all of this. They didn’t ask to be born but I brought them into this world. It is my job to take care of them and keep them safe. Can’t do that from the grave.

My friends thought I bought the urn for myself. That reminded me that they read these words and they worry about me. It kind of opened my eyes to the fact that I would be affecting other lives besides by own if I died.

I am trying to deal with my mom’s death so moments like right now when I want to throw myself out of a window and I curse the fact that the tallest building I have access to is only 4 stories tall - I will remember what my mom’s death did to my life and what my own death would do to my children’s lives.

Distraction is vital to staying alive. I think that is true for even non suicidal people. I guess that is what I’ll go and do now.

I thought that finding more of myself, meant that I would drift away from my husband. At first, that seemed to be the case. To my surprise I have found that the more I love myself, the more I remember how much I love Christopher.

Being with him, is being home. Being in his arms is like basking in the warmth of the sun. There is no place I feel safer than with him.

I suppose this makes me somewhat vulnerable, but then there is no one I trust more. It is wonderful to recall that I am madly and sickeningly in love with him still after all of these years. I am so lucky.

It is hard to figure out who you are when you are a smitten kitten for this enormous presence in your life that is your husband. Nonetheless, here are some things I have discovered about me.

I love to learn.

I love to read and write.

I love art.

I love the outdoors.

I love playing the piano.

It will likely take me awhile longer to figure out the rest. I’m working my way off of Celexa and back onto Lexapro.

I had a good weekend despite a day worth of dark thoughts. This is mostly because Chris was here for all but an hour or two of it. He put me to work to keep me busy. It was a nice distraction to be working along side him on the house all weekend. I am quite pleased with the results.

Of course this is the root of all my problems. I can’t be alone or complete when he is not here. This is what we talk about in therapy. I define myself as his wife. I feel as though I am part of him. I feel incomplete without him. I feel like a better person because I am married to him. Not better like good (quite the opposite actually) but better than you. And then when he is away or he is unhappy my reality comes crumbling down around me.

I am still trying to figure out why. I guess I’ll find out eventually. In the mean time, everything that happens while I am awake is a risk. I can’t stay in bed and hide out though. It seems that getting out bed and keeping busy is the best thing to do for now.

With all of the medication changes, my progress is slow but here are some things I am doing to try and not die. For some reason I keep trying not to die which is completely opposite of my thoughts.

I am also reading this book called A Secret Sadness in addition to How I Survived When My Brain was Trying to Kill Me.

I am trying to write a crisis plan.

I go to therapy every week (except next week since she’s on vaca)

I started buying aromatheraputic cleaning products. I get angry when I clean, the aromatherapy helps calm me down quite a bit.

I am trying not to be alone. I shouldn’t be left alone and I’ve told Chris that and he does his best not to leave me when alone when I am having dark thoughts.

Sometimes I am really discouraged, others I feel okay. I don’t know when this will end. Hopefully soon.

Ever since I could write, I have been inconsistently keeping journals. Growing up I spent an inordinate amount of time at Barnes & Noble with my dad. I usually came home with a new shiny and cool looking journal rather than a book. I once loved fresh clean paper and a ballpoint pen. I would write in the journal for about a quarter of the book, throw it away and get a new one.

See I like to go back and read what I have written and eventually my words begin to haunt me and embarrass me. The same thing has happened with this blog a few times now…

I am going to unlock some posts I’ve written. They are rather dark. If you don’t like what you read, please hit that X button in the upper corner of your browser. If you think I should be committed, I agree with you. Feel free to contact my husband and tell him so.

Scroll down at your expense, you’ve been warned.

Every time that I go through a bought with depression, it seems mountains worse than the last time. Perhaps it is.

Every time that I am scrounging blindly on the ground at the feet of the rest of the world I start to get tired. I get restless and tired of being depressed and lost. I start twisting and shifting and looking for a way out. Perhaps it is a new kind of survival mode.

The decisions that we have made (Christopher and I) as with nearly all decisions has plopped us into a swift current river forcing us almost helplessly in one direction. I do not allow myself to climb onto the shore even though it is nearly within  my grasp.

The sense of being trapped and having no good options is perhaps the most disheartening thing of all. It is this reality that keeps me feeling depressed and locked in a vicious cycle.

If only my decisions didn’t affect a couple young and innocent lives around me…

I am going to have a pharmacy in my kitchen before this is all done. My insurance apparently requires me to try and fail on 2 other medications that have a generic version before they’ll pay for my Lexapro. So the next time I see my doctor I’ll be starting over on a new medication. Damn.

I switched to Lexapro on Wednesday. It isn’t going so well. My therapist called my doctor’s office and while I wait to see my doctor again only a week after our last visit, I’m taking half a dose of each the Prozac and Lexapro.

It is like starting over. I was making progress until I switched medications. I wonder how many times I’ll have to do this until we find the right one.

It is not going well. I don’t feel like talking to anyone or doing anything. Chris is being very helpful and supportive though.

I’m reading this book in little pieces called “How I Survived When My Brain Was Trying to Kill Me”.

So I’m alive kind of. Still trying to get better.

I don’t want help. I want the peace that only the sweet release of death can bring.

I beg God all the time to just let me die, but he’ll provide no such comfort it seems.

I don’t believe I was meant to live a full life. For a moment I believed I was here to raise the two Littles but now I can’t tell if I am just mucking it all up.

Every emotion filled moment is like a brush with death, but only a tease as if to remind me that I’ll have no such luck today.