So this post has been a long while coming. I know I write off an on, but lately I have taken up journaling again. In a way it is therapeutic but also it just helps. I don't know why, but getting all of my thoughts out there, even the less than savory ones, helps me to be a better person. I find I am a bit more patient and a bit more even tempered. Though that is saying quite a bit for me (more on this in a few) to say the words patient and even tempered. These two words just generally are not in my vocabulary.
Upon reflecting about some of this stuff I had an idea that might help those around me gain some understanding about why I am the way I am. For me, I tend to more eloquently put down what needs to be said/what I'm thinking down in written word. I tend to be less confrontational this way and actually get out there what I am thinking without sounding hateful. (Or at least this is my hope.)
Soooo......drumroll please!! A day in the life of someone who suffers from depression. (Better known as a day in the life of Sarah Heselton.)
Generally speaking I am NOT a morning person. I HATE mornings with a passion. If I could stay up all night and sleep all day life would be perfect in my eyes. (Hence one of the many reasons why I love my job so much! Zero sense of time; YES PLEASE!) But life as a mostly full time stay at home mother does not allow for this. SO I struggle getting out of bed. I mean really struggle. Like wrestle with God about why life necessitates living outside of the confines of a bed struggle. Even when I'm medicated I still feel this way. I just hate morning that much. My husband can't seem to quite understand this concept, as he is an "Up to greet the sun" kind of guy. (Polar opposites anyone?!)
Once I am awoken by a child (usually my son, since he shares a bed with us), I muster up the strength to climb the stairs to start the day. It's a battle to put one foot in front of the other when I'm not medicated. I mean this. I probably can't say it enough. IT. IS. A. BATTLE!! Generally as I am climbing the stairs I am putting on my "game face" for the day. This can range from a look of anger to bright eyed and welcoming. Kind of depends on the day. Truly, it is a conscious choice every morning to attempt to be as pleasant as I can. It just isn't in my nature to be a jolly person first thing in the morning. (Save for a few circumstances.)
About this point in the day I have said some kind of prayer. One thing you may (or may not) know about me is that I have a quite active prayer life. I am constantly praying for strength to get through the day. Yes, it is a bit selfish those prayers, but truly it is what gets me through some points in my day. Morning being one of them.
After I get up the stairs usually lugging my 24lb toddler and my 35lb one on my heals, I proceed with the mundane tasks of the morning. Feeding children, putting our oldest on the toilet, getting kids dressed followed by getting myself dressed. This usually happens within a span of an hour. By this point I am less resentful about the fact that I am out of bed and generally feeling a little more cheery.
That said, on REALLY bad days I find myself getting slammed with an overwhelming sense of anxiety. Things like "Am I doing a good job with my kids?" and "Oh gracious, I have xyz chore to accomplish today." send me reeling faster than anything. Keep in mind it isn't ALWAYS like this, just on the particularly bad days. That's when my most commonly prayed prayer comes in for the day. Usually it goes something like this "Jesus, please calm my mind and help me to focus. Help me to be patient with my kids while I handle what needs done." USUALLY it works. I say usually because again, sometimes my body is just so completely out of balance that no amount of prayer is going to help me out.
I will be wickedly honest here. I am a TERRIBLE housekeeper. I mean, awful. It's getting better than it used to. (Trust me, you don't want to know how bad it really was in times past.) But part of the reason I am a terrible house keeper is I get overwhelmed by the thought of having to do this chore or that chore. And before you get all judgey (because I know some of you will) I have tried just about every method of organization for house keeping I can think of. But nothing has worked thus far, aside from staying medicated. My brain just doesn't work that way. Honestly I actually THINK and DO better when there is a bit of clutter around me. I feel closed in by rooms that are too orderly and that is a sure fire way to set in panic faster than anything else. I'm not talking filth here, just clutter. A few dirty clothes on the floor, dust on the shelves that sort of thing makes me feel at home and relaxed. It is what it is.
While we're on the topic of being medicated, I should say a few things about this. Medicated for me means a couple of things, depending on finances. Medicated for me can mean either Lexapro, a serotonin reuptake inhibitor, or some natural methods. If you know me you know I prefer natural methods FIRST over anything else BUT sometimes my brain is so out of whack even those don't fix the problem. And frankly they tend to be more exspensive than the $4 prescription.
Let me also just say that prayer doesn't always work. I am a believer in Jesus. Read my blogs of past and you can see this much, but there is a common problem in the church that drives me absolutely batty about depression. Praying the depression away doesn't work. I'm not saying God isn't the great healer, no that is not what I am saying at all, but we as believers need to step back and realize that SOMETIMES our people need medical help, therapy and many other things to help them through. It actually makes me angry when people say "I am praying for you." but offer to do little else. Thanks, I appreciate the prayers but sometimes I am silently screaming "HOW ABOUT A LITTLE HELP HERE!!" Even something as simple as offering to take my kids for an hour so I can regroup on the bad days would be nice. And trust me I have days where I think to myself "What the hell was I thinking?!"
Back on track with how the rest of my day goes. Usually after tackling chores (typically work related in nature) I spend some time with my kids. By this time I found the lunch hour has snuck up on me and I need to feed them something. So it is a quick game of "Ehh... nothing sounds good but I know I need to eat." in my brain followed by over indulging. Yeah, food and I are always at odds with each other. It's something I have been working on and battling for years.
Once lunch is wrapped up I play for a few more minutes with the kids followed by putting them down for naps. This is a battle with my son currently. Nathaniel HATES naps, but I'm a mean mommy and I make them take at least quiet time. It's my time to do what I want in the afternoons, dream and do a few more chores. Usually this is when dishes get washed, laundry gets thrown in the washer (I'm not so great at the folding and putting away part, but trying to make an effort to be better at it.) and I start gearing myself up for dinner time.
After naps it is dinner prep, where once again I have a bit of a dip in the day. By this point I am getting tired. My depression manifests itself in the form of being tired. I am one of those depressed people that could sleep my life away during the day, but at night can't sleep a wink unless I force myself to.
We go to the gym where I will try to force myself to do some kind of physical activity after dinner. Usually this involves swimming, as I am most relaxed when I am in the water, but some days it is walking on the treadmill or using the elliptical. We come home and we get the kids in bed. I nurse the youngest and read the oldest her bed time stories. Once they are in bed I get my "me time." where I go hide in my office for a while. Usually a half hour or so. I write, read and surf the web for a bit. Then I spend a little time with David before he is off to bed. Wherein I wrap up my day watching a bit of television and then head to bed myself. I wrestle with sleep for an hour or so and finally pass out around 11:30.
So you see, my life is mild compared to some I know. Here is the thing though. I can tell you all of this and to some of you, all you will see is someone who is lazy, unmotivated or directionless. I'm really not. My life is constant battle with my brain. My brain doesn't function properly. It is what it is. I don't know why God made me this way, but he did.
I also know that the dysfunctional brain also is a blessing. Some will not see it that way, but to me it allows me to look at things through a different lens. It makes me compassionate to others. It drives much of what I do concerning my job and it gives me passion. My brain has its glitches, but in it all I am not sure I would change that. It makes me who I am and honestly it helps me to understand better so that I can do my job of supporting women.
My brain is also highly intelligent. I may not come off that way to some, but my brain is full of information. Especially surrounding birth. I know many statistics, thought processes of nurses, midwives and OBs and I am a damn good doula because of that. (and I sure hope that one day I will be a damn good midwife because of it!) I research, I learn and I am constantly absorbing information about my craft. I am who I am and I accept that sometimes I am a bit glitch. And when I am, I have medication to help me be the best person I can be.
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