Thursday, February 15, 2007

One of Those Days

Every time I decide I've emerged from my depression, I have One of Those Days. Those days when just getting out of bed is a major accomplishment, taking a shower seems impossible, and putting on clothes is absolutely out of the question. And yet somehow I have to do all those things and feed the kids and help them get ready and keep them from killing each other and/or burning the house down and take JJ to school and carry The Peanut everywhere and nurse her every 5 minutes because she has horrible separation anxiety and make dinner and try to keep it together until everyone's in bed.

Before I had kids, I could spend days like this in my pajamas, in bed. Shortly before and during my nervous breakdown, I spent a lot of days in my pajamas, in bed. Don't get me wrong, I'm not pining for the good ol' days of burrowing under the covers and living in my fucked-up head. I think it's good for me to get out of the house and move. But some days are harder than others.

Yesterday was One of Those Days. I honestly felt I would never make it through. But somehow, I did, hopefully inflicting a minimum of emotional scarring on my children.

I wish I knew what triggered it. Maybe it was coming down from the sugar and love high of Valentine's Day, or maybe it was skipping my run that morning. Today I got up and ran three miles, and as I pounded along the sidewalk and watched the sun rise over the fog, the day seemed so much more hopeful.

I'm hoping tomorrow will be a good day, too.


Stephanie said...

I can't tell you how awesome I think you are. I am inspired and I think my family would benefit a lot if I could manage to drag my ass off the couch and take an early morning run once in a while too.

You're fabulous, even if you're still in your pj's.

Beth/SW said...

I can so relate to those pajama days. After I stopped working in Fall '98, my 3 year funk came for a long visit. It'd been coming on for quite sometime and then it moved in. I didn't stay in bed all day, but let's just say that I was a very late riser. And then I'd move to the recliner. My lovely husband could tell by the look in my eyes how the day had been. More often than not, they were flatline days.

Depression just sucks. And though the manic-ness that can accompany it can be ever so productive, it doesn't really balance out, does it?

I could ramble on some more, but someone wants their bowl refilled with Cheerios. (Isn't THAT ironic?)

A big smooch to you.

Mrs. Blue said...

Honey, (and I mean that to be the nice "honey" not the bitchy one) I think you have a lot of clear thinking going on if you made that run. Even just one day. Somedays it seems impossible to even put one foot in front of the other..but to do it quickly, over and over, before the sun comes up? Saintly. Good for you for taking care of yourself.

Student Nurse Jack said...

I hope you had a good day too. The fact that you were able to extract yourself from the pj/couch mode and run three miles in the midst of this slump is impressive in itself.

Depression is a bitch. I love SW's response here. Oh, man, can I relate. See how many of us *know* where you're at right now?

Hang in there, and allow yourself a pj day every now and then. Don't totally avoid them. I think sometimes they can be therapeutic.