Failure, victory, and confusion

While I was on my walk this morning, I realized that I’ve been posting a lot on my good days–the hopeful ones when I feel that baby steps aren’t so bad after all. That isn’t bad, but it doesn’t give the whole side of the story. I started this blog in part to be a form of therapy for me, and in part to provide reassurance to other young people like me, who feel that no-one in the world under the age of 50 shares their kind of health problems. When I am in no mood to write, when deciding what to have for lunch leaves me circling the kitchen for over 15 minutes, and when I lie on the couch staring at the back–these are the times when I just want to hear someone else say “I know,” and know that they mean it.

I am not a person who likes failing. When I was around 7, my father started to help me learn to ride a bike. After I wobbled around for a while, I got so frustrated and embarrassed at my incompetence that I ended the learning session. Later I spent an afternoon or two on a long stretch of street where I could pedal a few times, then put a foot down when I needed balance. Then I’d adjust the pedals so one was facing up, and do the same thing again, gradually getting the feel for what successfully riding a bike felt like.

I feel like I’m doing the same thing now. Although as an adult I try not to shut down around my family, just because of the way the days work out they tend to only see me when I am pedalling smoothly. The same with people at church. Of course, I don’t know for sure, but the impression I get is that, as a result,  people think I am doing much better than I am. In the months immediately post- surgery, the top of our piano was crowded with cards from people who I know genuinely care about me and my well-being.  I know that volume of mail cannot continue for ever, but it would be nice to feel that some people can see through my charade, can call me on my health  bluffs–especially people from the young adults potluck group I was a part of. When I give my usual “I’m doing ok, still working at getting better etc. etc.” answer, if only people could say “Ok. So how are you REALLY doing?”

How would I answer that, though? Very few friends know the depth of my struggle. DB (Dear Boyfriend) of course, my long-distance-friend Josh, and to some extent, my sister-in-law, Addie know how my depression rages at me.  I do feel badly about constantly responding with something about my depression or fatigue, because it puts them in an awkward position–what are THEY supposed to say in response? Ah, well…I can’t run an entire conversation by myself. I kind of caught myself on the edge, there, because one thing my OCD does is get me stuck running over endless “what ifs”. Haha, It’s still just 11:00, and I can still have a great day. Not a blissful day like I had last week or whenever it was, but there is still a great day.

Things I’ve already accomplished?

1. Went for a walk

2. Had an ok breakfast

3. Cleaned the cat box

4. Set myself a Minecraft time limit and stuck to it

5. Brushed my teeth and hair

6. Took medication #1

May seem like minutiae, but as I read somewhere (I forget where), there are no small victories with depression. Any healthy decision I make helps dissipate this blue mood before it becomes even stronger.

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