Over the past few weeks of life taking a giant deuce on me I’ve sat and pondered where exactly things went from inconvenient , possibly borderline annoying to ‘ are you f****ng kidding me all ready?!?!!!’. The amount of horseshit I’ve had to deal with over the most recent months has pushed be so far beyond your average range of emotional capacity that I’m at the point now that the fiery rage produced when common sense escapes me has seared my nerve endings and everything is vanilla. I also carry around a baseline migraine, right sided facial numbness that travels all the way down my arm and chest pain. I’m aware it’s all stress induced but the stress that has been inflicted upon me are those that I have no control over, thus making it even more stressful since they are things that are very unpleasant and I can not just choose to not let them not bother me. Because it’s one giant carbuncle of bother and stress.
Things really started to evolve into a hot mess last fall when I really sit and think about it. I had undiagnosed adenomyosis that was increasingly making yay yay fun time into ‘OMFGZ my uterus is trying to kill me’ time, and along with the abdominal bloating and sharp pain my activity level dropped . This made me even more tired than I was after working midnight’s for several years consecutively , which also turned into me loafing around in sweatpants and flip flops in stead of actual clothes because my belly was swollen, I was tired and I didn’t want to wear real clothes god damnit.
I finally conceded to having the partial hysterectomy in February, having the surgery done on April 15th (yay tax day!). I had hoped that having the uterus of doom removed would make me 1000 times better, like flipping a switch better. Yeah, it doesn’t work that way. I couldn’t take pain meds after three days because not only were they not working but they were making me feel sick and gross. That was super frustrating along with not being able to be fully independent, and after almost three months out I still am not up to par. My clothes still don’t fit because not only did I get out of shape prior , I can’t get back in shape still because I am limited at the gym, which makes my head want to explode. I refuse to buy bigger clothes because I feel like I am accepting defeat. I’ve been wearing sweatpants and flip flops since last September on a regular basis. That does not exactly make you feel attractive nor give you the motivation to take care of your self.
Having little other options I started wearing boys clothes since they’re more comfortable , have cooler designs and do not confine the borders of my disproportionate trunk. My husband was not impressed. I told him it was better than wearing flannel pj bottoms as actual pants.
I think by allowing myself to succumb to the sweatpants/yoga pants except you’re not at yoga don’t even lie/boys sale rack identity purgatory I unintentionally started wearing my unpleasant miseries seep from the inside out. Not to say you couldn’t pull of any or all of the above and not be nauseatingly happy, but I did it out of not caring, and things like , I don’t know, shaving my legs – ever, brushing my hair and eating went by the way side. Depression has a sneaky way of moving in on your life.
At first you may think it’s super obvious and you can be all ‘hey depression – yeah you – take your Steele Magnolia’s and box of Thin Mints tha fehck outta here no one invited you!!!’.
Then when life really starts shitting on you, for example, my uncle died unexpectedly, we got rejected on our mortgage application, my grandfather passed away the day before my son’s 8th birthday, and then I had the partial hysterectomy. You hear a knock at your door ….
‘Hey depression, I guess you can come wallow for a while since I don’t want to
burden anyone with these things called feelings, it’s hard to pretend you’re
super awesome all the time because super awesome people can’t possibly feel
You hang out with the depression you invited in because you didn’t want to feel like a bother to anyone since a shit ton of people have way worse things going on, you’d look kinda selfish right? I mean you have an amazing husband (that you barely get to see never mind spend time with, and when you can you are both exhausted from work and kids), two beautiful healthy kids (who you barely get to spend time with and now they don’t even bother asking you to play) and a great stable job with benefits (which includes working midnight to 8am five days a week for the past 3 years in a row, after which shift bid is every 3 months so don’t even try to get use to the new schedule – but don’t complain bc it is a kick ass job!!)
Sometimes if you catch yourself throwing a pity party and being an intolerable cow you’ll concentrate all your energy on being super amazing awesome and scissor-kick depression back out (only after eating all of the Thin Mints – you rude bastard). You’ll gallivant around with your chest puffed out “look at my awesomeness, I’m so friggin awesome!” . Then you look down. Sweatpants, flip flops and legs you haven’t shaved since the daylight savings time change. I know it’s easy to forget when your legs don’t get itchy, but for the love of all that is holy, it is common courtesy.
Your fake ego deflates and you plop right back where you were in the fields of ‘meh’. Not happy, not sad, not angry, just – ‘meh’ – flat. You know what happens if in a hospital setting someone flatlines? They are given a shit ton of interventions like medications and electrical shocks to bring them back to life. *DISCLAIMER* you should never touch electricity you dumbass. When you find yourself wearing elastic waisted pants – if you wear any at all – and not giving a fehck about pretty much anything, sometimes you need something to shock (FIGURATIVELY SPEAKING PEOPLE!!!!) you back into a functioning non depressed human being.
Over the past few weeks the truck I had been attached to kept having things go bad on it as do most 4WD vehicles, and the dealer I bought it from kept handing it back to me not only NOT fixed, but with a completely new set of problems and then tried to act like I was dumb. Their incompetence is not my problem. What is my problem is the chronic stress the whole truck falling to shit was causing me. So today after the third time in one week I returned my truck to get fixed and I was basically told that they have incompetent techs and I have a shitty warranty which spelled unending frustration for me I calmly asked for my keys and left. After having a nice lunch with my kids we marched over to the Volkswagen dealership and was able to work out a lease on a brand new 2014 Passat.
I can’t control the other laundry list of things that are stressing me out at the moment, I could however replace the truck that was dying out on me and cut out the incompetent dealership I previously did business with. Done & Done. I pick up my new car on Monday and will do so in something other than sweatpants and flip flops.
I may even shave my legs.
Small steps can help propel you forward into big change.