Tomorrow

Tomorrow is my first therapy appointment. I'm a lot more nervous than I thought I'd be. When I made the appointment I was so desperate for relief. So anxious for help. It was like a piece of heaven imagining sitting down on that couch and spewing forth the longest, possibly incoherent, ramble of all of my woes and begging for something to help me right this second. However, ever since I made that appointment, it's like things have been noticeably better. To the point where now I'm sitting here the day before my appointment, thinking, "do I really need to do this?". But I know the answer is yes.

I suspect a couple of things going on here. Since I made my appointment, I've known in my brain that help is around the corner, and it has made things easier to deal with in my day to day. So I've been better able to cope. Better able to not let the world crash down on me when Ada only sleeps for 35 minutes, or Ryan spends 3 hours on Saturday morning playing video games while I'm confined to the couch holding a baby and reading a book on my iphone during her catnaps. And then repeats the cycle a couple of hours later. Usually it makes me feel like my life is spiraling down the toilet. But this past week I've been surprised at how I've rolled with the punches. Only briefly yesterday did I have to go upstairs with Ada for a little bit because I felt the panicky, suffocating tightness rising up in my chest, and the tears starting. I talked myself down pretty quickly though, and we moved on to other things. In some psychopathic way, I was relieved to have that moment, because it made me feel like I do, in fact, still need this appointment tomorrow.

The other thing I suspect is that I'm just doing what I always do when I'm nervous about something, or out of my comfort zone. My mind suddenly plays a game called, "everything is fine, you don't need change" because I do fear change. So my brain tries to convince me that I've solved whatever problem caused me to seek help in the first place, and that I no longer need to face this big thing that has been looming. It's sort of a self preservation measure, I think, to keep me safe in my comfort zone. But that in itself is something that therapy will help me with. So, fail. Fail, brain, fail. I'm not falling for it this time, and I'm going to therapy anyways, so suck it. You can't hide in my head anymore.

I've realized that even when I am doing pretty well, relatively speaking, I'm still just constantly in a state of tension. That's my anxiety in full effect. I don't really know what it's like to feel truly relaxed. It's like my insides are just always tightly wound, and even when I'm appearing relaxed on the outside, I'm a chaotic mess underneath, and everything is in overdrive. This is why I keep myself awake so often with the most random, unnecessary dialogue in my brain, just constant chatter up there about any and everything. And the problem with the dialogue in my brain is that it never needs to stop to take a breath.

At any rate, I'm nervous about going tomorrow. But I know deep down it's the most right thing I've done in a while. And that feels good. I just never imagined myself getting to this point. I don't know. It makes me sad that I'm so sad, so often. I didn't want to be this person, and I let it go for too long. I know I'm taking the steps to change it now, but I regret wasting so much time and life being so much more unhappy than I needed to be. You can't get it back.

Personal victories

I did it. I made the phone call I've been avoiding for so long. I have an appointment with a therapist a week from Tuesday. I feel good about it. Optimistic and proud of myself. Two things I can't recall feeling at all in the last several months or more. It needed to be done. Ada and I had a very, very rough morning on Thursday, and I felt sick to my stomach most of the day about how my depression is affecting her. The enormous personal responsibility I feel to get help for her sake maybe more than my own drove me to pick up the phone. And my mother begging me to do it helped too. I hate when she is constantly worried sick about me. That's part of my character too-I just can't stand causing stress in anyone else. I will always absorb it all myself first, of I can. But lately I've been leaning on my mom a lot when things are really bad in my head and she has been carefully trying to push me to seek professional help. It's become clear that I'm still suffering postpartum depression on addition to anxiety and oc tendencies. Those things I've dealt with even before I ever had Ada. But since having her, I haven't ever really felt like myself again. 

Before Ryan and I got married, I went to therapy for a couple months to try and work out some trust and relationship issues I had because of my family. Some of it helped, but thinking back on it now, I realize clearly two things. One, I hadn't become aware yet of all the things in my brain and behavior contributing to my constant unhappiness which require professional assistance. I am aware of a ton more of them now. I'm also about 6 or 7 years older and wiser now. Secondly, I wasn't truly ready to open myself up then and accept the help I truly needed. I am now. So ready. In fact I don't know where to start when I get there. The embarrassment and reservations are gone now. I just desperately want relief and a brighter future. I need confidence that I can raise my daughter well, and not hurt her because of my own mental health issues. I want to sleep again without battling the relentless and rambling thoughts.    

This is the first step. And just having it behind me now has left me with more calm than I've felt in nearly 6 months. I think things are going to be okay. And I'm willing to work my ass off for that. 

Baby steps

It's hard and scary when you realize you need to start over. When you realize people and things in your life are no longer aiding your growth and vice versa. When you see all that's left between you is a shell in the shape of past and memories, and a fleck of remaining effort to make it seem like it isn't so hollow. But I've been in this place before and I do believe it's helped me to come to the realization it's time to let go much more quickly now. It's time to make room for the next people and experiences which will shape and teach me. 

So much of what I've been going through lately has had dual purpose. It's helping me pinpoint where I need the most help, and showing me who I can expect to help me through it. And it's been incredibly painful to realize how lonely I actually am, but I feel like its for the better long term. Sometimes you miss something really amazing because you're not looking for it. You don't realize you need to. You don't consider that you have the room for it because you thought all those slots were filled. So while it hurts like hell to finally see how actually open those slots are, at least they now have potential. 

So many things have been churned and upheaved in me, and now as the dust is just beginning to settle, I have to figure out how all the pieces fit together. Because they've changed. I have hope that this new picture, once revealed, will be even more vibrant and inspiring. I am optimistic about it, as there have been very few times I've gone through a time like this with nothing to show for it in the end. But right now I haven't put the pieces together yet. I'm just beginning to breathe again. To be able to fall asleep on my own again. To have more than two days in a row when I don't end up sobbing on a pile of laundry. So I'll happily continue to take this one day at a time until even more answers come to light. And I'll happily accept the necessity of starting back at square one in order to embrace a better future. One where I am as important as the things and people I love. To them, and to me.