Tag Archives: depression

Bag of Cats: Day 1

By nature, and happily so, I tend to run with a regular stress level of about 3 (10 being batshit). I’m in constant fear of loosing my job – of being found out I’m a hack. It is this that I believe has gotten me so far in my career. It motivates me to try harder, do better, do more.

New to me, but similar, I now live in constant fear of failing as a parent. Not enough veggies in his tummy, not enough one-on-one play time, not reading enough books, not doing flashcards. But I hold on to that because I feel that as long as that fear of failure is strong in me my chances of actually ‘failing’ diminish.

After living my own life for 37 years – doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, wherever I wanted and with whomever I wanted, I’d lived a pretty satisfying life. I was completely ready to hand everything over to my newborn son and live to serve him. And that’s what I did for his first year of life. I eschewed socializing. I went to work, I picked up my son from daycare, we came home, we ate, we played, we went to bed. For his first year of life, plus a few months.

After that first year I found my self in a situation were all of my happiness was coming from my son. All of my affirmations were coming from my son. If I was sad, I wanted my son. If I was lonely, I wanted my son. If I want to have a fun day, I wanted my son. It quickly occurred to me that this was not the start of a healthy relationship and perhaps, I was ready to start dating.

So I started an online dating adventure with the intention of finding a nice man with whom I could share burgers on Thursday nights, maybe catch a movie here and there, maybe put away a few beers at a bar, maybe do naughty things on summer evenings. Nothing too serious, just ADULT stuff somewhat indicative of me living an ADULT life. Surely there had to be a fella out there interested in the same. However, within a couple days of joining the site, I got lucky (?) and I met a very nice fella whom I’m still dating, three months later. He lives an hour away from me in Kent (near our cousins) so we really only get to see each other on the weekends. And only then after an hour drive, traffic/weather permitting, each way. It’s a bit frustrating because we spend good quality time, yet we’re still not really getting to know the ugly things about each other and it leaves way too many shadows of doubt exposed in my insecure girl brain.

Also recently, my son is growing in to such a wonderful, exciting adventure of a boy. He’s a chatterbox. He’s a reader. He loves his cars and trucks. He’s learning to poop on the potty. He sings songs to the trees. He has also started thrashing and flailing and screaming to express disagreement. He has learned some sort of pterodactyl mating call which he uses to express displeasure. He will sometimes squawk and squawk until I pick him up only for him to fuss and wriggle out of my arms. Rinse. Repeat. As he becomes more toddler, these demonstrations become more intense.

And then there’s my job. My beloved job where I work for a fantastic company trying to change the world. Brilliant coworkers constantly inspiring me to be better, projects for honing my skills and providing opportunity to grow. What a great gig. Only I picked up a project that I’m really not excelling with. All the chaos in my brain currently seems to be stiffing my creativity. The pressure of possibly letting down my boss is overwhelming.

I’m going to fail them all

My boyfriend is going to see how batshit insane I am and decide that he has no desire to share his life with a crazymaker

My son is going to become one of those spoiled, whiny, screechy bastards making shrill noises in the store about candy and toys

My boss is going to reach his limit with my suckittude, decide they could bring in a couple interns and a marketing manager to replace me.

Now, normally, I can handle all that shit. It’s not real. It’s all in my head. But for the past month that chaos is controlling me instead of me controlling it. It makes me feel tragically fragile. It makes me feel week. It makes me feel ashamed. If I were to come here and write about how I had developed some sort of blood infection, my mindset would be so different. I’d be eager to learn more about blood infections, their treatments and symptoms. I’d be sharing with everyone what I was learning.

I’m now on two anti-depressants; Ativan and Zoloft. I just started them today. For me, the most troublesome side effects are the fatigue and nausea – those two can make me grouchy. The Ativan might make me angry and bitchy. I simply can’t have that in my life. There’s also a possibility of loss in sex drive from the Zolof. Another deal breaker for me. And that’s not because I like fucking – we all like fucking. There’s a certain peace and calm and love and safety that I get from being with B. If I ever needed to keep a strong bead on that, it’s now.

Starting off the holiday season on two drugs that won’t let me drink. Fucking hell. But I need to get my head back. I need to get off the roller coaster and find a quiet place to listen to what’s going on in my brain. I need a clear desk on which to work. So bear with me, this will only take a little while.