Akemashite omedetou! Happy New Year!
A new year dawns, complete with the promise of new blog entries, full of apologies about not writing ^_^
In looking back over the past year, I'm pretty grateful for all my experiences. It wasn't the worst year ever, it wasn't the best year ever, but everything I experienced has put me on the path to becoming a more awesome person.
I'm thankful for coming to terms with my depression. When I think of how many years I have been wandering around in a fog, I'm amazed that I made it out of bed every morning. Since beginning treatment in September, I have made great strides toward becoming a fully functioning member of society ^_^ Okay, maybe not great strides, but some little baby strides.
I'm glad I took Aki in. He's a handful, and when he destroys things I often wonder if he's worth it, but when he leans in so I can skritch his chest and lets out a big sigh, I know I did the right thing. Also, he gets me out walking, which helps with the whole "too depressed to exercise" thing.
I sold some quilts! Quilting has been a hobby for me for many years now, but it's never been something I thought I was good enough at to make any money. I love doing it, and am happiest when my quilts find a home where they are enjoyed, but to think that I can earn some of the material cost back is pretty awesome.
I have a great network of family and friends. My parents and sisters are awesomesauce, and I am looking forward to seeing them all in June for Hezz's wedding. My friends in Faro who look after me, my friends back in Ontario who remind me of my roots, and my friends overseas who remind me of who I have been and will be again...I wouldn't be myself without them.
But, this wouldn't be a proper New Year's Day post without some goals for 2012, so here they are:
1. Be furiously happy. I discovered this concept earlier this year via The Bloggess's presentation at Ignite Evo - this video right here. If this means taping pictures of velociraptors all over town, gluing rhinestones to my truck, or taking a half-day every Wednesday to play with the dog, I want to do it. My parking spot is marked with a "Beware of Velociraptor" sign, and it makes me smile every morning. Do ridiculously silly, stupid things.
2. Work harder at failing. This is self-explanatory to me - as much as I want to just be automatically good at new things, statistics show that there is a correlation between practice and perfection. Note - I am not interested in perfection, per se, but in proficiency. I know that I need to fail at things in order to become any good at them. (Right now, I'm thinking about the free-motion quilting aspects of my life, but I'm also signed up for archery at the Rec Centre on Thursday nights, and I'm just letting my fellow students know in advance - y'all should probably be standing behind me when I let the arrows loose - just sayin'...)
3. Forgive more. I know that I am carrying around baggage from years ago. Sometimes, it feels like I've been carrying things around for centuries. This year, I want to release more of those suitcases of guilt and anger and hurt feelings and hopelessness. I don't want to be bent under the weight of things I haven't faced and haven't forgiven. (This may require some wine, though. And chocolate. And Kleenex.)
4. Leave my main bad habits behind. This one doesn't need to be expanded on in public ^_^
5. [REDACTED] Sorry, this one is personal, too.
So, that's what 2012 had better shape up to be - furiously happy, full of failures, and free of past hurts. Woooo!
Showing posts with label I'm doing just fine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I'm doing just fine. Show all posts
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Monday, September 12, 2011
Dark Nights, or The Entry that Took Three Weeks
I've been composing this entry for just over three weeks now.
Unfortunately, I did most of that composition in the minutes before I went to sleep, so it didn't get written down. But that's okay, because it's changed so many times over those three weeks that any entry I wrote wouldn't have been as complete as it is today.
I've mentioned my anxiety issues before. I figured I was just a naturally anxious person, and I just needed to deal with it. You know, suck it up, put on your Big Girl panties, get over yourself. I thought it was a character flaw.
But almost four weeks ago, I had a dark, dark night. I was a wreck.
I often feel overwhelmed by isolation here. I know I have wonderful friends (I love you, Kara!), but I'm still up here on my own. I deal with a lot of stress at work, and at the end of the day I come home to the cats who, while they're great at purring and demanding meals, are not really effective at listening to my problems. Sometimes it feels like everywhere I go, people want to talk to me about Town stuff. It feels like I can't even run into the store to buy bananas without someone coming up to me to complain about something.
I realize my perception is skewed - it's probably less than 25% of the time, but those times outweigh the 75% of the time people just want to talk about the weather. (Don't stop talking to me, people! Just maybe not about work ^_^)
So, there was the dark night. There was a lot of crying and shaking and wondering how my life had gone so wrong. I make a good wage, I have a decent life, why can't I find the energy to get out of bed in the morning? Why couldn't I even pinpoint why I was unhappy?
Then, a few days later, I lost an old friend to a heart attack.
34 years old, full of life and love, and suddenly gone. As I learned more about her life in the years since we had last been together, how she had truly become her own person, comfortable in her skin, I grieved for her loss...and for the loss of who I had been when I knew her.
The me of 15 years ago had self-confidence and bravado galore. She wasn't always pleased with her appearance and she couldn't keep a penny in her pocket (both traits I still struggle with today), but she woke every morning determined to kick life's ass and drink deeply from the cup of experience.
Yes, the me of 15 years ago was a drama student - does it show?
At any rate, to return to the dark days - I decided it was time to seek some medical assistance. I booked an appointment at the Nursing Station to see the visiting doctor, and I explained that I was depressed. We had a good talk (when I wasn't about to break down in tears), and he prescribed a mild anti-depressant. He also agreed with me that I might benefit from seeing one of the counsellors who travel to the communities. I think that talking to someone who is completely separate from the community will offer a distance (and discretion) that I couldn't find in town.
Even before I started on the medication, I felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I've probably overshared with half the town because I'm so relieved. I don't see this as a weakness - I see acknowledging it and seeking help for it as a strength.
It helped that my family has been so supportive, it must be said.
So, I've been on the medication for two weeks now, and I lack the vocabulary to adequately express how much better I feel. I'm not saying I walk around delirious with joy every minute, but it's like I've stepped out of the fog. I feel like things are more clear than they have been in a very long time.
Some of the changes are small (I can do laundry again! I can make a proper meal!) and some are much bigger (I'm planning ahead! I went to a baby shower and stayed for longer than half an hour! I'm getting my financial house in order!).
Probably the biggest decision I've come to over the past two weeks is that home ownership is not in the cards for me at the moment. Maybe six months or a year down the line, that picture will be different, but right now, it is not the best choice for me. Removing that stressor has had a very positive impact.
There's a small part of me that still drives by the house on Douglass and gives a little sigh, but every time I come back to my little brown rental house, I am content. I look at the rising balance in my savings account, and I feel pride. I feel like an adult.
So, here's my 200th entry. It's taken a while to write, but I think it was worth the noodling I did over it. Here's to 200 more.
Unfortunately, I did most of that composition in the minutes before I went to sleep, so it didn't get written down. But that's okay, because it's changed so many times over those three weeks that any entry I wrote wouldn't have been as complete as it is today.
I've mentioned my anxiety issues before. I figured I was just a naturally anxious person, and I just needed to deal with it. You know, suck it up, put on your Big Girl panties, get over yourself. I thought it was a character flaw.
But almost four weeks ago, I had a dark, dark night. I was a wreck.
I often feel overwhelmed by isolation here. I know I have wonderful friends (I love you, Kara!), but I'm still up here on my own. I deal with a lot of stress at work, and at the end of the day I come home to the cats who, while they're great at purring and demanding meals, are not really effective at listening to my problems. Sometimes it feels like everywhere I go, people want to talk to me about Town stuff. It feels like I can't even run into the store to buy bananas without someone coming up to me to complain about something.
I realize my perception is skewed - it's probably less than 25% of the time, but those times outweigh the 75% of the time people just want to talk about the weather. (Don't stop talking to me, people! Just maybe not about work ^_^)
So, there was the dark night. There was a lot of crying and shaking and wondering how my life had gone so wrong. I make a good wage, I have a decent life, why can't I find the energy to get out of bed in the morning? Why couldn't I even pinpoint why I was unhappy?
Then, a few days later, I lost an old friend to a heart attack.
34 years old, full of life and love, and suddenly gone. As I learned more about her life in the years since we had last been together, how she had truly become her own person, comfortable in her skin, I grieved for her loss...and for the loss of who I had been when I knew her.
The me of 15 years ago had self-confidence and bravado galore. She wasn't always pleased with her appearance and she couldn't keep a penny in her pocket (both traits I still struggle with today), but she woke every morning determined to kick life's ass and drink deeply from the cup of experience.
Yes, the me of 15 years ago was a drama student - does it show?
At any rate, to return to the dark days - I decided it was time to seek some medical assistance. I booked an appointment at the Nursing Station to see the visiting doctor, and I explained that I was depressed. We had a good talk (when I wasn't about to break down in tears), and he prescribed a mild anti-depressant. He also agreed with me that I might benefit from seeing one of the counsellors who travel to the communities. I think that talking to someone who is completely separate from the community will offer a distance (and discretion) that I couldn't find in town.
Even before I started on the medication, I felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I've probably overshared with half the town because I'm so relieved. I don't see this as a weakness - I see acknowledging it and seeking help for it as a strength.
It helped that my family has been so supportive, it must be said.
So, I've been on the medication for two weeks now, and I lack the vocabulary to adequately express how much better I feel. I'm not saying I walk around delirious with joy every minute, but it's like I've stepped out of the fog. I feel like things are more clear than they have been in a very long time.
Some of the changes are small (I can do laundry again! I can make a proper meal!) and some are much bigger (I'm planning ahead! I went to a baby shower and stayed for longer than half an hour! I'm getting my financial house in order!).
Probably the biggest decision I've come to over the past two weeks is that home ownership is not in the cards for me at the moment. Maybe six months or a year down the line, that picture will be different, but right now, it is not the best choice for me. Removing that stressor has had a very positive impact.
There's a small part of me that still drives by the house on Douglass and gives a little sigh, but every time I come back to my little brown rental house, I am content. I look at the rising balance in my savings account, and I feel pride. I feel like an adult.
So, here's my 200th entry. It's taken a while to write, but I think it was worth the noodling I did over it. Here's to 200 more.
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