that scruchy, wound up feeling

This time of year is tough for those of us with any kind of depression, isn’t it?  The days are mostly dark and gloomy, and what little light there is vanishes before the evening commute home.

I’m coping, though.

No, seriously, this is the best winter I have had in years.  Cort has really worked with me {and the stuff my therapist suggests} to try to be proactive.  I have gotten a SAD Lamp that I use a minimum of four times a week (for 15-30 minutes at a time, although ideally I would use it for 30 minutes every day), I have been charting my symptoms of when I feel most anxious during the month and what seems to be the cause.  I have found out that a lot of it is hormonal (which I hate because it feeds into this “thing” about women and their uncontrollable “moodiness”), but I’m on anxiety meds during a certain week of the month to help with that.

It’s not perfect yet…it’s definitely a work in progress…but I am seeing that it’s working.

The problem is, even when I know that the anxiety “time” is coming, I can’t foresee when exactly it will hit.

Saturday it hit.

The day started out–to the casual observer–perfectly.  Cort let me stay in bed until after 10am.  I got up and sipped my coffee while perusing social media.  While I was still in my jammies, Cort packed up Eddie and they went to the hardware store, leaving me alone with a napping baby.

How is this not perfect? Trick question. It’s totally perfect.

But I was restless for some reason.

The house was a wreck. I had a deadline to meet.  I needed to shower.  But I didn’t want to do any of it, but I also knew I couldn’t focus in this pile of a house.  It was a definite Catch-22 and it was causing me to want to go HAM all over everything and everyone.

(You know it’s bad when I use the phrase “go HAM” since I abhor that phrase for its stupidity)

Anyway, lunch time came around and the boys were sort of whiney.  Eddie went down for nap shortly after and Charlie? WOULD NOT NAP.

Finally after some tense moments, Cort went to deal with Charlie, and I decided I more than needed a timeout.  Everything on my insides was getting clenchy–that is how I described it to my therapist. It’s like everything on my insides starts winding around itself and it gets tighter and tighter and tighter. If I release the pressure of how tight it’s getting wound, it will come out in snaps and hurt someone.  If I don’t release at all?  It will eventually wind so tight it will crack and break and make a mess.

So.  This is what I am working on.

Anyway, I went into our room, closed the door, and changed our sheets for no reason other than I needed to control something and get away from the rest of my world.

I still wasn’t ready to go out and face anyone without exploding, so I decided I would take a shower.  I didn’t tell Cort. I didn’t consider if he had anything else he needed to do that day. I just did it.

While I showered, my insides became so tight I wanted to punch a wall.

I started letting all the things that bother me have a hand in turning the crank in my gut:  the dishes in the sink, the crumbs under Eddie and Charlie’s seat, the mess on Charlie’s highchair tray, the floors that need to be mopped, the floors that need to be vacuumed, the bathroom that looks like a college boy’s dorm bathroom…why does it seem like I am the only person in this house that notices these things? Which really means: Why doesn’t Cortney notice these things???  Why am I the one always in charge of crumbs and the bathroom?

Then I immediately feel guilty.

He let me sleep in.  He let me have a whole night locked in my room to do writing that week.  He made dinner for us.  He ran errands I didn’t want to do.

But I was still annoyed.

More than annoyed.

I was MAD.

But I felt guilty.

And then I felt hugely burdensome.  He sighs a lot around me lately.  Especially when I ask if he can do something for me.  He spends most of his time making sure I am on an even keel…that my mood doesn’t dip.  And when it does, he gets sad and annoyed because he can’t do anything right.

Even though he does everything right.

But yet…I am still annoyed.  Mostly at him.

I stood for several minutes with my head under the hot water.  I took deep breaths like I taught Eddie to do when he is upsets and loses his words.

A few tears fell and I realized the week of anxiety was starting.

And then my anger shifted.

Is this just my “normal”?  When are my feelings “real” and not because of hormonal/chemical issues?  And is that possible?  Does it make them less valid?  I feel like it does because it’s unreasonable and illogical.

I KNOW one thing, but I FEEL something else.  And then anger takes over.

I was able to recognize it and come down from it by the time I was done drying off and getting dressed.  I walked quietly into the livingroom and curled myself in my chair still feeling fragile and cracked.

Cort was just sitting on the couch alone–Charlie must have finally gone to nap–staring at the TV but not watching it.

“How was your shower?” he asked me automatically and without much feeling.

“Ok,” I started, “sorry I didn’t let you know what I was doing.”

“I figured it out.”

“I’m sorry I am this way.”

“It’s Ok, babe.”

I know he means it.  And I know he doesn’t all at the same time.

But mostly he means it.  I just have to believe it too.

I still have bad days when I am angry and nothing gets done.

But most days I am not like this.  This is not the norm anymore. I need to celebrate that and not dwell on the bad days.

I know that, but I have to believe it too.

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