Before I started feeling really miserable (I'm thinking it was back in September), I think I was truly starting to accept myself. I was developing an understanding of my limitations in a way that allowed me to feel at peace instead of feeling like a victim; I held on to the fact of the amazing power of my body and the miracle it produced (Alex) as a way to combat the inner desperation I sometimes feel about my body; and I was no longer afraid of sadness or anger, because they were controllable. I wish I could say that I know exactly when things started to change, but I don't know, and I think that's because the deterioration of my health has been a gradual process.
For me to even acknowledge that my health has deteriorated is a major step for me. Up until Friday, when I visited my primary doctor and heard a brief account of my health over the last year, I think I honestly believed that what I'm experiencing right now is a minor setback, like a cold or the flu; something that will be gone quickly and then I can get back to living my life the way I used to with the range of emotions I used to feel and the capability to multitask (I'm woefully unable to do it now, since doing more than one thing will result in 1- frustration and potential shut-down on my part and 2- any tasks I'm trying to do simultaneously being done poorly, at best.). I finally get that something is really wrong with me that left unaddressed could limit and shorten my life, and what's more, it has sunken in that fixing what's wrong will take a couple months at the least. It's going to take a major paradigm shift (I use that word at the risk of regurgitating all the Stephen Covey stuff I studied my freshman year of college in Leadership class)- and the thought is so overwhelming that I wish I could just go buy a new brain at Target. They'd probably have a better deal than Walmart, as far as quality for price goes; besides, Walmart would probably end up unethically taking down smaller brain stores/factories in third world countries to achieve their amazingly low price on brains.
I almost didn't go to my doctor appointment because I was so afraid that she wouldn't believe that my depression is so debilitating. How ridiculous is that? Somehow, I've convinced myself that people will automatically think that I'm not really depressed and assume I'm trying to cheat the system. Where is this paranoia coming from?? Especially because so many people have been wonderful to me about this, including my doctor yesterday. (I had to see her for my short term disability paperwork to get filled out because my psychiatrist doesn't do paperwork, which caused me to shed a lot of tears when I heard that.) Anyway, the rest of the day was fairly uneventful until Alex woke up from his nap and decided to "help" me with putting stuff away by throwing a ton of cards EVERYWHERE. I can't explain how I crumple when Alex makes an amazing mess that will take more than a minute to clean up. I know he's a little boy who is experimenting and experiencing and learning….but the fact remains that I already feel overwhelmed by life most of the time, and when Alex gets into one of his "messy" moods, it pushes me over the edge. Luckily, instead of flying into a rage (as my mother used to do), I shut down. I usually go numb and sit on the couch until the numbness goes away, and then I either leave the mess (no energy to clean it up) or I start to clean up a little at a time. If Alex is agreeable (meaning he's had a proper nap), I can get him to help me. Otherwise, he can very quickly make the mess worse than it was in the first place. It doesn't ever seem that I'll accomplish anything significant around the house, which I guess is okay since Carla, our fabulous angel-disguised-as-a-cleaning-lady, insists on doing more than I ask. For instance, this past Wednesday she brought all kinds of books and toys over for Alex. And she picked up dog poop and cleaned off my patio; things which are totally unrelated to cleaning the house. But anyway, since I've become a mother I've had to accept the fact that any plans I make are indefinite until they actually happen, and there will always be something on the floor- blocks, cards, Legos, cars, paperclips, whatever…if Alex can get to it (and sadly, he can figure out a way to get to just about everything), it will end up on the floor.
So let me get to the newest gift of motherhood: leaky diapers. But not leaky diapers like the ones when Alex was born and we had to find a diaper that fit well; oh, no, we're talking diapers that get so full that they can't absorb any more so that urine flows freely from baby to bed. Would it be a big deal if Alex slept on his own bed? No, not really, because he has a waterproof mattress. But does Alex sleep on his own bed? Actually yes, but he gets up in the middle of the night to come sleep on mine. THAT is the big deal. It happened three times before George suggested we get a waterproof mattress cover. George is brilliant! Why didn't I think of that sooner?? I suppose some day we'll have to limit Alex's drinking liquids after lunchtime, since it seems like he saves all his liquid from the afternoon for peeing while he's sleeping, but in the meantime, Alex seems content with the way things are. Oh, and he has found a new place to pee: my shoes. Yesterday he took off his diaper, ran around the house gleefully due to the free feeling, and then ran into my closet and peed on my new shoes. Isn't motherhood glamourous?
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