Thursday, June 23, 2016

The Joys of Depression

It's been pretty rough lately. This pregnancy is really hard on me. Mentally and physically. I forgot how debilitating depression can be when you're not in control of it. It takes so much work to control my mind. It takes more effort than just living. I think that's why most people chose other ways to deal with it, or not deal with it at all. Sometimes I describe it as a hole that I just can't get out of. A deep dark hole. That's not really an exact parallel comparison. Because I don't visualize an actual 'hole' per se, but it's more of how I feel mentally. My mind is in a deep dark pit. And it can't see the light. I know I’m down there, I know I'm struggling to find the light, but I just can't find the steps to climb out. It's frustrating as hell. And confusing.

That's the other, terrible part. I feel so confused. I feel like I don't know which way is up or down or if I’m going left or right. I truly just don't know. Now, part of that is pregnancy brain, it's a real thing! I swear! It freaking sucks the genius right outta ya. But the other part is depression. I can get so mixed up on my feelings and thoughts. I just don't know what do to about it or how to fix my confused thoughts! The majority of the time I just ignore it. I just choose not to acknowledge that I’m confused, so then I just end up putting it so far out of my mind that I’m not even living in reality. It happened the other day, I was so caught up on just trying to act normal, i.e. not confused, not depressed, not hurting, that I completely blacked out my loved ones. Meaning, I blacked out what their feelings on life and events are like. I just completely ignored them & reality. I ignored what is meaningful to them. And in turn, I hurt them very much. Which led to me actually 'deal' with my confusion and depression. And by 'dealing with it', I mean it came out in a big, ugly, battle where I ended up having a panic attack and major cry fest. 

Letting it out did help, but its not a remedy to my problems. 

The only silver lining in all this is I RECOGNIZE that I'm depressed. I KNOW I'm going thru that, or that I'm in a struggle. 
One of the hardest parts of this disease is RECOGNITION. Depression acts like a drug, or a drink, it masks what you really feel inside, and replaces it with the exact opposite. It makes you wonder if you really ARE depressed or hurting or struggling, and makes you believe that you're not depressed, that you feel fine, things are good, and you can handle life. In other words, it's like you being completely high or drunk and thinking that you can have one more hit or one more drink and walk that straight line all while saying the alphabet backwards (not that I’ve had to do that or anything….moving on). When in actuality, you should have been 'done' about 3 hits or drinks ago, and you're already a wobbly walker and your ‘words’ if that’s what you want to call them, just tumble out in a big pile of gurgles and rambles, equivalent of a one year old baby. Depression feeds on your 'normal' thoughts of 'I need help', 'there's something not right', 'this isn't me', 'why am I acting/doing/feeling like this'. It replaces those 'trigger' thoughts with things like, 'I'm good!', 'I don't need help!', 'I'm completely fine!'. 

So in the past, I've gone around in a depressive haze thinking life is good, I'm grand, I'm stable, and no one or nothing could change my mind. But NOPE. That's just the depression talking. Life is not good, I am not grand, and I am extremely UNstable. This time around, I RECOGNIZE that life sucks, I'm mentally in a shithole, and that I need help. It's so hard to recognize that. So HARD! About as hard as actually fixing yourself.

Let me introduce you to the three parts of depression. Three different, and hard, struggles to battling (and overcoming or winning) the war. 
-Part 1 in the War on Depression is RECOGNITION that you ARE depressed and not thinking clearly. Recognizing you actually HAVE a mental illness. And your thoughts are truly not YOUR thoughts. Sometimes even your actions are not truly your actions. It's Depression's thoughts & actions. And it's a heavy battle. It's an extremely difficult battle. And the majority never win. 
-Part 2 is working though your struggles and 'fixing' it. An equally hard and difficult battle as Part 1, because most of the time you don't have the resources available to 'fix' it. You can't see past the depressive haze to find the solutions. That's why it's so important to rely on family, friends, and medical professionals to HELP you. Let Them Help You! Getting help is hard. Asking for help is even harder. For myself, it makes me feel like a failure. Even after all these years in counseling and working on improving myself, I still have a hard time reaching out for help. Mostly, it’s because of my personality type, and only partly because I'm stubborn as hell.
-Part 3, another uphill-Mt-Everest-high battle, is after you’ve conquered Parts 1 and 2, then you have to MAINTAIN. You have to struggle, every day, every minute, every second to maintain your ‘normal’ thoughts and not let Depression move back in. Yes, there’s medication to help. Yes, there are professionals and loved ones to help. But it’s truly up to you, and the strength you have in yourself. Which at this point, you’ve used almost every freaking ounce of strength you have just battling (and winning) Parts 1 and 2. There’s like seriously about a mosquito fart amount of strength left in your mind to deal with mundane things such as eating & pooping, let alone enough strength to funnel that into trying to win another battle against Depression. And actually this one is the hardest yet, because it’s not just a battle to win, but it’s a LIFETIME of struggle to just be ‘normal’. There’s never a winning or overcoming side, there’s either MAINTAINING or losing. And if you slip and lose, you get sucked right back into Depression and have to start all over again with Part 1.

So, that’s my life in a nutshell. Riding a freaking carousal on the back of a very slippery, slightly odd looking, plastic frog (because all the pretty unicorns are taken), going up and down and up and down, and round and round, all the while trying not to slide off the back and make a fool of myself. Oh the joys of living with Depression.

Anyways. One thing that helps me is writing, reading and re-reading my written word, and hopefully seeing a different perspective. It’s been too long since I’ve expressed myself, and that’s probably part of the issue with my depression coming back around again.

I write to not only help myself, but hopefully to help others too. I believe knowing someone else’s struggles, faults, and/or weaknesses will maybe touch another’s life and help them see their struggles, faults, and/or weaknesses and realize they’re not alone. Going through depression is hard enough as it is. But going it alone is even worse. There are people out there that feel your pain, know your pain, and can help fix that pain. But being silent isn’t going to help you or them, now is it?!

Thanks for reading and seeing my struggle! I know it helped me to get it out, hopefully it’ll help you too!


Thursday, April 28, 2016


You know how every once in awhile you're walking through the grocery store and you see one of 'those' mothers?
You know the ones.
She's got at least one toddler hanging on her pant leg, possibly with another, older or younger child, most likely crying. Her attire is nothing short of a homeless person/crack addict. Her hair is best described as 'there & everywhere, with a slight sheen'.

I mean, I am NOT judging! I can't count how many times that it's been my dear, sweet husband that has not-so-gently asked how many days it's been since my body has been graced with soapy water and a loofah sponge.  I mean if the love of my life, my rock, he who promised to love me better or worse, The Man casually mentions that it's possible the fumes radiating from my body are similar, if not exactly, to that of a 13 year old boy's jock strap that's been buried in his gym locker for 82 days......well then. I definitely am NOT judging.

What I'm trying to say is that you've seen that wonderful mother at the grocery store, right? The one with that slight crazed look? With one eye that has a constant switch? You've seen her, yes, you've seen her.

I'm ashamed to admit that pre-kid, I looked at those mothers with pity and fear. Fear for myself, I mean. Hell, even POST-kid, I looked at those mother's with that look. I know. I know. I can't even stand typing that. I feel like I'm betraying my people. My Mama People. But it's true. I would always secretly wonder what finally made her break, ya know? I mean, every mother that goes to the grocery store with even one kid, DESERVES to look like a hot mess on laundry day. She deserves the light socket psycho bun and the walking dead gaunt.

But the crazed look?
The eye twitch?
Do kids really do that????

Naaaaaaa.......I thought.
No way.

I mean, our little angel(s) couldn't really make THAT happen to us mothers............
Could they?

Here I am, Two.point.GoingOnTwenty-twoYearOldDramaOfABeverlyHillsHousewife years of being a mother, and while I'll definitely admit (and might even take pride) in my overall 'stellar' beauty queen/crackhead appearance and my occasional locker room stench, but I've always thought I kept a pretty sane head. Oh, I have moments alright. There are definitely moments. But I have truly never felt like I wanted to stick green golf tees in my ear drums, run around in nothing but a neon purple tutu, and loudly declare that I'm Shrek's next Bride of FrankenHell or anything.

That is.........

Until last week.

When my little, innocent, curly haired Mini-Me learned the question..................Why?

-Dillyn, put your shoes on!
-Dillyn, eat your beans.
-Dillyn, you ask a lot of questions.
>>>Why, Mommy? Why?


And I can handle those teeny 'Why's'. But it's my personal favorite conversation that has been on effing repeat, four times a day, for the last 5 or more days (I've lost count at this point, because I've been too busy looking for golf tees) that really has taken me to the next level:

----Driving down the road, most likely to my 2nd home aka the grocery store----
D: OH MOMMY!!! LOOK!!! A school bus!!!!
Me: Yes, that is a school bus.
D: I wanna ride in a school bus!!! RIGHT.NOWWWW!!!!
Me: Well, you can't ride on one right now, but maybe some day.
D: Why?
Me: Because you aren't old enough to go to school.
D: Why?
Me: Because you need to grow up big and tall before you ride the school bus.
D: Why?
Me (my eye is getting this funny feeling): I don't know Dillyn.
D (pauses for 2 seconds): Can I ride on a school bus and pick pumpkins?
Me: No you can't pick pumpkins right now.
D: Why?
Me: Because pumpkins aren't ready yet.
D: Why?
Me: Because they grow in the fall. And its spring time. We have to wait.
D: Why?
Me: Because they aren't ready yet.
D: Why?
Me: Because they need to grow longer.
D: Why?
Me (the funny eye feeling is now a constant blink, my eye won't stop blinking, it makes it hard to drive): Because pumpkins grow in October, and October is a month in the fall. Right now we're in April, and April is a month in the spring. We have to go all the way through spring, then summer, and then fall is here. We can't pick pumpkins until it's October, the fall, and Halloween. When you dress up for Trick or Treat. So we have to wait. And unicorns are real. And pretty. And i want to ride a flying unicorn into the sunset. To a deserted island. Where I never have to see a school bus or a pumpkin for the rest of my life.
D: Why?
D: Why, Mommy?
D: Why?
D: Why can't I ride on a school bus?

At this point, the blinking has turned into the twitching.
I have also thought seriously hard about repeatedly ramming my head into the steering wheel more than once but know that the store is within minutes, and I will hopefully be saved by distracting her with something else. Anything else. Please God don't let there be a school bus in the parking lot. Or a freaking pumpkin anywhere. ANYWHERE.
We have arrived.
My eye is twitching more. If that's even possible.
I check the rear view.
Somehow my once cute little hair bun is beginning to look like an eagle's nest that was half set on fire, and then slicked with grease.
I don't even know how these things happen. All I did was drive to the store. I did NOT leave the house like this.

Oh my God. What did we come to the store for?

Me (thinking out loud): I can't remember what we came to the store for.
D: Why?


I am now that mother.

I have finally gotten my age-old question of how those mothers get that way.

It's by a little three letter word.


PS: Do you know if the grocery store sells golf tees and tulle?

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Did ya miss me?!

So, it's been too long. I know.


I can't believe the last time I wrote was Oct of 2015. Freaking OC.TO.BER!
This is what happens when you have kids. Or A kid. They suck the life and time right outta ya. Well, it's only 'A' kid until Sept 4th. Yes, yes, if you haven't heard another Baby Wiksten is due. If I wasn't puking or feeling like puking, dealing with headaches, bloody and runny nose, heartburn to kill a person, and extreme exhaustion, I would be jumping for joy. But seriously, just don't get pregnant.
Ok, I'm kidding.
No really, we tried long and hard again for this one and every toilet hugging moment is a blessing! Truly! I can't wait until Sept, and not just because this pregnancy is such joy, but because I can't wait to see what type of ornery little rascal this next one is going to be. I.Can.Not.Wait.

Moving on.

The real reason I'm writing again, is because I straight up miss it. And I need it. As most of you know, I struggle with severe depression and anxiety and writing has always been a great release for me. I tried to lie to myself and say 1. I don't need to write, I'm a badass!; 2. I don't have time to write, I'm a mom!; 3. No one cares, why should I! But the biggest lie was all those put together to mask the real reason I didn't want to write again, which was fear of rejection, anxiety of putting myself out there again, and just over all panic attacks. You know, the normal, every day, crap a woman worries about when considering getting back into writing a little, itty, bitty, teeny, tiny blog about (of all things) Beer, Dogs, and Health.

First of all, I'm far from a badass. That's just ridiculous.
B. Yes, I'm a mom, but even mothers......wait, ESPECIALLY mothers......need a way to release, they need a way to vent, and they definitely need to make time to do something THEY want to do (even if it's only taking a poop-poop by yourself, complete with the luxury of getting your own paper and flushing your own toilet.)
And finally, I care. I do. I care about me, even if no one reads my shit-nanegans. It helps me. I started this just for myself, and I'm going to start AGAIN just for myself!

Here's where things get exciting.


I'm changing this ol' bloggy up a little. I'm still going to concentrate on getting healthier, but mainly I'm going to be writing to clear my mess of a noggin. Oh, and don't worry, if you haven't caught on already, I'm still going to try and be a below average funny person, slightly inappropriate, and most importantly.....real (aka boring. It's fine, you can tell me. I can take it.)

Until next time.

PS, I put on my big girl panties and bought a domain name for this little thing.....

Now you don't have to write a paragraph to get here.
You're welcome.