I’ve been a Depression sufferer for most of my life. Because of this, I tend to live in the past. At the moment I am coming up on certain months in my life that cause me guilt, anxiety, regret, and deep sadness…
October 26th (2014): The day Tyler moved into our house
October 31st (2015): The day I left my new job early to rush my little boy to the Pediatrician because he wouldn’t eat or drink.
November 12th (2014): The day Tyler got kicked out of the first daycare because he wouldn’t follow their schedule.
November 16th (2006): The day I admitted myself into the hospital for Severe Postpartum Depression and Anxiety
December 5th (2014): The day at work where I had my cell in one hand talking to Birth to 3 about Tyler and my work phone in the other talking to the nurse at Sophia’s school about an anxiety outburst.
December 30th (2014): The day I went to the ER for a severe panic attack.
December 31st (2014): The day I moved out of my house to my parents waiting on Tyler to be removed from our house. The day my psychotic break started. The day I didn’t want to leave work early to go home. The day the delusions took over.
January 2nd (2015): The day Tyler left us.
January 3rd (2015): The first day I started to die inside.
January 14th (2015): The day I went to the Behavioral Crisis Center at the hospital and spent the night there.
January 15th (2015): The day I knew I could not be left alone by myself. The day I went back to the Behavioral Crisis Center. The day I laid on the bed there and tried really hard to come up with a way to removed a screw from a table and jam it in my head. The day I admitted myself again to short term psych.
I try hard every year to look at how far I’ve come, but these dates and the images associated with them instantly pop into my head if I don’t keep my brain busy. It’s amazing how quickly I can forget the good. How images of my daughter’s euphoric birth are pushed aside with memories of the postpartum months that followed. I sit with them, the hurt, the pain, the shear agony, ignoring the good. Each year it does get slightly better. EMDR therapy has made a world of difference in how I process these memories.
Then the dates quickly approach.
Somehow, even with all my effort to push away these negative moments, there is always a moment where I find myself sitting with the anger and the frustration, and of course the guilt, and it seems nearly impossible to focus on the good. So many happy memories.
… An intensely cute little cherub of a boy, a dimple in one cheek… instead my focus goes directly to how in the end he was a huge trigger for my Anxiety and Depression.
… Hearing him speak, seeing him learn how to eat solid food, seeing him discover how to love and loving him back… to the point it hurt so much to let him go. To the point I put my Mental Health aside again to try to save my family of four. To the point I almost sacrificed my life as I admitted defeat, as I raised my white flag and surrendered to my Anxiety and Depression…
The struggle is in how long I let the negative memories sit with me. How long to let them dwell in my house, eat my food, drink some tea. The longer they sit with me, the more deeply rooted they become, and the harder the struggle to pull myself out of them. I am still working on this step. Still having issues letting the guilt I have for myself over these events go completely. After decades of dealing with Depression, I am learning how to live with it, instead of fighting to remove it from my body, mind and soul. That latter battle is pointless. It will never fully leave. I am learning to control it, instead of it controlling me.
As each of these dates approach, I will let in all the emotions and memories and will work my hardest at not letting the negative ones become permanent house guests.