Well, I had planned on going to sleep early tonight, but alas… here I am making stuff with my laser. It’s been keeping me sane the last few months, for the most part anyway.
What I’ve been wanting to write about lately, but haven’t been motivated enough to, was finding motivation. We’re stuck right now. We’re indoors, with the same people, every. Sing. Moment. Of. Every. Single. Day.
I love my people. They’re great. They’re wonderful, full of love and joy. I’m a Debbie downer, sorry to all the Debbie’s out there, but hey at least you’re not Karen levels. (Ah, yeah, I just went there).
I hit the corona-depression pretty hard and pretty fast waaaayyy early on. I was also having issues with meds and kids were out of school, both kids had surgeries last month, and ya know the global pandemic happening, racial tensions at all time highs, and what the AF is happening in politics?!? Don’t worry, we’re not touching that subject.
It was HARD. Like sleeping all day because you don’t want to face the world hard. Was it really hard? Probably not, but that’s the weird thing about mental illness, it completely distorts you perception of reality, and that doesn’t make things easier.
On top of that, you probably know that you don’t have things bad, but your brain is telling you the complete opposite. Life really isn’t that bad, but my brain was telling me some really dark $hi!t that sitting here in front of this screen, I look back at, and just wonder how I got there. How am I even still here today? I still don’t understand that.
Then something started to happen. The clouds are still there, but that bright ball of sunshine started to peak through. I could hear music again. I started singing along. I. Started. Dancing!
Boy does that dancing part hurt, though, but man I’m digging move around again. This is metaphorical, people. I got some wireless ear buds, and I jam out to music and try to keep moving as much as I can.
My son, AJ, sings, all. day. long. Every single day. When he had his tonsils/adenoids out in June, the music just died in our house. He stopped singing and talking. Being a typical mom, at first I was like, “dude, this totally awesome! I can have a conversation without being interupted.”
Yeah, no. I missed it. I missed it something fierce.
Then we had to take Ri down to get her g-tube surgery, and we in a hospital room for 5 days. Couldn’t leave, or risk the potential exposure for Covid-19. We couldn’t even take her out for a stroll down the hallway.
No music. My soundtrack stopped playing entirely. My mental playlist was erased. No backups stored anywhere to be found.
I cried a lot. In private. I’m pretty sure that even my husband didn’t know I was hiding to let the tears out. So much doubt, and so quiet.
The only thing I could hear was the darkness. It was so loud. “You aren’t enough. They don’t need you. No one needs you. And just in case you didn’t know, no one cares about you either.”
I knew this would be hard to write, but I’m still not ok, I well aware. But I’m better. And then I’m not. And then I am again. Ya know what, though? I’m better more than I’m not, but it also doesn’t take much to knock me down.
A couple weeks ago, I started to force myself to do things again, even though it was probably the last thing I wanted to do. I’m trying to compliment someone everyday. I’m starting to take my puppy for long walks, because I got the quarantine-bod going on. I’m creating things again.
I’m singing to a playlist, I think it may be mine, or maybe it’s just a new one I’m developing. On really good days, I’m also swaying these big old hips. They do need a little grease though, they’re a tad bit squeaky and get stuck from time to time.
I think some of this has to do with weaning off the meds. That was one of the hardest things I had ever done, believe that or not, based on what I’ve been through with my history.
I could go off on a huge long tangent about how medications can do more harm than help, and these are things doctor’s are prescribing, but I’ll save you that conversation.
I’ll leave you with this. Find your playlist. Dust that SOB off, and shake that booty God gave you. Sing with kids, dance like no ones looking, and what what makes the sunshine in your life. You have that control, take it back.
Take care, my friends. You’re never alone. You are good enough, truth be told, you’re better than you’ll ever realize.