Wow. So....hi there! I highly doubt anyone will actually read this, but for those of you still clinging to the possibility that I might post again some day, here it is! I'm thinking about restarting the blog but I'm not making any promises. I just felt you guys deserved an explanation of just where in the hell I dropped off to. So, be prepared for a rather long post with possible follow up posts until the story is told. It's a doozy, y'all.
So that depression thing? Yeah, it turned into severe depression with anxiety, panic attacks every time I left the house, severe suicidal tendencies..the whole kit 'n' kaboodle! Cuz, when I do something I go all out. No messing around, no sirree bob. Not this girl. By golly, if I'm gonna be depressed I'm gonna be close to being institutionalized! *Ahem* So, yeah. Hmmm....Let's go back to when I thought I was better. I was better. For a couple of weeks. I did amazingly well for a couple of weeks. Then it all just seemed to come crashing down on me again. I honestly don't remember what all happened. I have almost 2 years that are a complete blur to me. Seems that happens when you aren't really living life, just existing day to day. I did a lot of hiding in World of Warcraft. I still play, but mostly out of boredom and....well, we'll get to the other reason a little later, shall we?
So, I played a lot of WoW. I slept when I couldn't stay awake any longer, ate when I just simply had to or go into a diabetic coma and played WoW. That was my "life" for over a year. The ONLY people I talked to were my online WoW friends because they had little to no idea who I really was or what my life was like. It was a safe haven to hide in. My health was in the crapper, T's health was in the crapper, our house looked like a crapper and I didn't wanna fix it. I was tired of fixing things. I was pretty well tired of everything. I didn't want to talk about it. I sure as shit didn't want anyone to KNOW what was going on. I didn't even talk to my folks during this time. God forbid anyone should know what a failure at life I was. Don't get me wrong, I know I'm not a failure, but oh damn did I ever feel like one.
See, the Bell's Palsy (see last post made before I came out of hiding THIS time) didn't send me deeper into my depression. What DID was me sugar coating what happened during that time. See, the story I posted is the pretty version of what happened. I did that a lot. What happened, if you read between the lines, is I thought I was having a stroke. My husband dropped me off at the door of the emergency room. He never even turned off the car. Didn't escort me in. Didn't stay to make sure I could cope with this. He dropped me off scared to death. I didn't see him again for a couple of hours and that was after they had transferred me. My parents, driving MUCH further than him, got to me before he did. The three days I was in the hospital getting tests done? He came to see me once and that was because I begged him to bring me yarn so I'd have something to work on and a change of clothes. When he came to pick me up from the hospital I felt like it was an inconvenience. Those if you who have spent any time in a hospital know how long it takes for them to discharge you. He was angry because he had to wait. I honestly felt he didn't give a two bit shit about me anymore. Whatever it was we had left at this point, it was not a marriage. I just kind of fell further from there.
I began having panic attacks every time I left the house, or the phone rang, or the doorbell rang. I could not handle reality poking it's head into my ugly little world. I realize now that the panic attacks when I left the house were because I might have seen someone who knew me. They'd ask me how I was. I wasn't sure I could lie anymore. I knew my face couldn't. T was pressuring me to find SOMETHING that made me happy even a little bit. He bought pots for me to paint thinking that would help. I went through the motions but it's hard to be creative when you're to that point. Crocheting and knitting was just a reminder of everything I thought I had lost. He told me I should find a job to get out of the house and maybe that would help. I went on one interview, shook like a junkie the entire time and had to pull over and vomit on the way home. I just couldn't do it. To top it off, T had informed me around the beginning of 2008 that he was not just hearing voices, but communicating with entities with his mind. I will not say what entities because it's a moot point. Trying to talk to your husband and watching his eyes go vacant because he's hearing someone else? Then he chuckles at something you didn't say? Yeah.....couldn't handle that either.
So I guess it was around June, 2008, that all this came to a boiling point. And by boiling point I mean I was sitting on our love seat alone, he was out in his office, and I was crying. Sobbing to be exact, because I was holding a loaded .38 revolver loaded with hollow point bullets, safety off and I was oh so very seriously considering painting my walls red, white and chunky instead of the fresh white they were. Hey, it's my suicide I can joke if I want to. What kept me from doing it was all the faces of the people I had stopped talking to. Friends and family that loved me and would be devastated by my cowardice. So I put the safety on, unloaded the gun, put it back where T had so carefully hidden it and told no one. About a week or two later the realization hit me; I didn't want out of my life. I wanted out of my marriage.
I needed time away to pull myself together. I needed to fix what was wrong with me before I could even consider fixing my marriage or my husband and his issues. So I went to visit Laura/Mom. I told her everything. I went to visit my folks. I told them everything. A week later, at the end of July, I left. I cried the entire time. T never had a clue until I went out to the office and packed up my computer out there and told him. By that time I had all of my stuff out of the house. I got to my parent's house that night, buried my face into a pillow and I cried. I screamed. I ran to the bathroom and threw up repeatedly. Then I cried and screamed some more. The next morning my face was so swollen I could barely open my eyes. I spent most of that day on my anxiety meds, pain meds and kept ice on my face to bring the swelling down. It was, without a doubt, the most miserable 48 hours of my life.
I honestly just wanted time. Time to figure out what I wanted, time to figure out where I wanted my life to go, time to figure out what I was going to do with my life. I didn't get that time. T insisted on knowing how MUCH time I needed. When was I coming home? Why was I doing this to him? What in the hell was I thinking? None of which I had the answers for. How do you put a time limit on pulling yourself together? All we did was fight and scream at each other on the phone. He kept asking me if there was someone else. He would rather think I was cheating on him than to face the issues we had. The issues I had. In September I told him I was done trying. I wanted a divorce. It was devastating.
I slowly started gaining control back over my own life. 2008 was pretty much a complete wash. I didn't come even CLOSE to pulling my shit together until the beginning of 2009. In February of 2009 my mother threatened to kick my ass if I didn't get out of the sweat pants I was living in. In April of 2009, my mom and I spent another week in Cozumel, Mexico. It was the most relaxed I've been in years. In May of this year, I spent the most amazing 10 days in Kingston, Ontario, Canada. Y'all, Canadians have it made. (If you love me, bring me Tim Horton's coffee, k? Extra large, 4x4, sweetener and creamer. Thanks!) I was worried about the Canada trip because I was meeting people I had only known online (granted for 4 years now) and I was in a wedding for one of these people, PLUS it was the first time I was going to have to be truly social since all the depression crap started. I never had any sort of panic or anxiety. In fact, I haven't had a panic or anxiety attack since the day I left that house. Please, please don't get me wrong. I am so not blaming T for our marriage falling apart. It took both of us to royally fuck that up. No one person can be that detrimental to a relationship. No way. I promise I'll discuss the Canada trip at another time, cuz ya'll....seriously that was an AMAZING week for so many reasons.
Anywho, once I got back from Canada, I made a really fast decision about my future and decided to follow my dream of going into the medical field. I'm in my 4th month of school. I'll be graduating next April as a Medical Assistant. I am currently maintaining a 4.0 average and once I graduate, I'll be working and going back to school again. Deciding between nursing (my forever ago dream) or becoming an ultrasound technician. As of June 12th my divorce was final and I am a single woman again. Well, sort of, but that's also a story for another time. Am I out of my depression? Who the fuck knows. How the hell can you tell? I may never say I'm out of my depression again. That just seems to piss it off and bring it back with a vengeance!
What I do know is that I'm happy. I'm happy with my life as it is. I'm happy with the direction I'm heading. I'm happy with the choices I'm making. I'm excited about my future and what it holds. I still cry when I talk to T. I still cry when I think about my marriage failing so badly. But it's not every day. It's not even every week. And I don't wallow in it. I get a little teary eyed and realize that this is what's best for me. I'm finally taking care of me and it feels good, and it feels right. I'm a lot calmer now than I used to be. I think I may have been just a smidge manic at times during my depression, but these days I don't get that way. I'm on a pretty even keel.
So....how you guys been?