the uncomfortable

warning: this post is going to be very personal. no triggers, just truth. i'm trusting that everyone reading who is not already aware of what's been going on will be gentle in their response.

lately, the feeling that something is not quite right has been insidious, an unwelcome interloper in the many ups of the next few weeks.  even with all of these positive changes materializing, i am still having a hard time getting up and getting by.  this has been a complicated truth for me for at least ten years, and especially the past sixteen months, so i am finally stepping forward, knotting my own lifeline, and asking for help.

i think i hit the wall two mondays ago, or maybe it was the seventeeth, when it was dark and i was driving to an appointment with the dermatologist i didn't care to make.  my skin had been a mess for two months and was covered in blisters; cue the weeks of creams and discomfort and a lot of crying.  i was ready to give everything up, and not only because i felt hideous.

there was a shot of pain in my chest and then a deer jumped out in front of my car within the same split second.  it's not a metaphor - not even a clichè one.  since i'm obviously still here and typing, it didn't end as poorly for the deer or me as it could have.  for the first time in a long time though, i listened deep.  i sat on the bed and talked myself through the multitude of spinning facts and inevitabilities and self-lies about who i wasn't anymore and what i didn't deserve. 

my baseline is already lower than what seems like "normal", but it's been a slippery slope since i started and then ended my time teaching eighth grade.  i've never been so let down.  eventually i stopped making conversation with anyone.  it's easier to not have to explain anything when you're not sure what's left to explain anyway. 

on top of feeling betrayed and empty, i was starting to get angry about things and actions that were out of my control, and it always, always was turned inward.  it's been a steady decline but, maybe, a subtle one.  i stopped taking care of my physical appearance, lost of a lot of sleep. i stopped extending myself out to others.  i really believed that no one cared anyway.  it would have been nice to disappear.

so i've started going to counseling.  my counselor has put a  preliminary name to what i've lived with, and it was what i expected.  depression. hearing it come from someone else, a complete stranger, a professional, was validating, but the process is on-going.  

this past week i tried to smile at other people, new people.  the ones i haven't really met.  i smiled at the cashiers at ikea, at the people in the checkout line at the grocery store, and even a few extra people at work.  i need to keep track of these little moments even though it's unreasonable to expect them to "fix" me and rewire my brain chemistry overnight.  that is not going to happen.  i am too hard on myself; i know that.  there is a lot of self-care and self-forgiveness that i need to tend to.

as of now, i've missed one week of projects.  this is okay.  i will make it up soon, especially with only six days remaining until juan and i move into the new apartment. 

until the next post, be well.