Happy 420 Everybody!

It is a world wide holiday today ... did you know that?  Started back in the 1970s with a group of kids in San Francisco who just happened to be friends with the band members of the Grateful Dead.  Still don't know what I am talking about? Google it and enjoy the enlightenment it provides.

Much much much more important than that though is ... well, two things really ... no, three ...

Number One: I have to brag about my Nevi ... since starting school back when she was 4 she has had terrible mornings.  She had a hard time waking up and then it was nothing but a monsterous struggle to get her dressed and out the door.  Over the course of the last 3 years, we learned about her SPD (Sensory Processing Disorder) which was a huge contributor to the struggles.  With occupational therapy, things improved but we were still ALWAYS late.  *sigh*  Well, the first day back to school after the long Easter weekend, we were in the car, driving to school, late AGAIN and I say to Nevi, "You know who has control over getting you to school on time or not, don't you?"  She immediately argues with me about it (as is her habit learned from her father), but I insist that only SHE can get out of bed, get dressed, and out the door on time.  I assure her that I am doing my part by providing an alarm, a regular nighttime routine so she gets enough sleep, clean clothes to wear that are laid out for her daily, breakfast to eat, hair brushed, lunch made, etc.  By then we are at school and the conversation ends.  However, the very next morning Nevi was up, dressed, fed, and out the door to school ... early?!?  For the first time in the history of the history Nevi was the FIRST ONE TO CLASS.  I was SO SO SO proud of her and certainly made a big deal out of it but inside I warned myself that it was probably just a one time thing ... but, miraculously, it has continued!  She likes being first to class.  Whatever the magic was I am thankful thankful thankful and so proud of my Nevi girl!  May this be the END to our late mornings ...

Number Two:  My little Lily Beth is going to be TWO on Sunday - which is also Earth Day - TWO?!? How in the heck did that happen?!?  I know - all parents say that but still.  May I just say that I think that she is the smartest, sweetest, cutest, most impish two-year old that I know. I LOVES HER!  Will post a picture of her Butterfly cake next week.

Number Three:  The 8 page essay that was haunting my every waking hour and causing me no end of panic attacks, was finally finished and turned in.  This is a seriously huge deal because there were days when I literally could not complete more that two coherent sentences at a time.  There is a noticeable dent in my desk where I repeatedly beat my head against it - just kidding - sorta ... now there is just this "little" research paper to finish, two tests (one of which is next week), and a 12 page essay that, thankfully, doesn't have to be science based.  For the first time in 22 years I can finally say ... I am going to make it.  This degree that I have fought, cried, and shed blood for will finally be MINE! All MINE!!! Wheeeeee!!!!

This summer is going to be AWESOME ... next up ... my BFF and why she RULES!

Depression: Failure and Embarassment

There is a desperate need to have people understand what it is like to be really depressed ... somehow if I can help others understand it will put me back in charge - it will mean that I have a handle on the situation.  I reach and stretch - scream and cry - desperately trying not to sink - not to fall - not to let the darkness envelope me completely.  Depression is an illness that really is, all in your head.  The chemicals in my brain - my neurons - my very brain cells themselves, have a weakness - a serious weakness - that if not closely monitored - if not fought tooth and nail - will kill me.  When it gets really bad I start to hear third person conversations in my head.  They say, "Kate shot herself in the head."  These thoughts are completely unwelcome by me - they are a desperate message from my brain to my consciousness that we are red lining - again.  As is the pattern with my loyal trifecta, the depression grows, the anxiety increases, the pain starts screaming louder than normal.  To give up - to give in - is NOT an option ... well, it is - that is part of how I have control.  I know that I have two choices everyday - to get on with living or get on with dying.

I am at a crossroads between success and failure.  For whatever reason, writing an eight page essay for English and a research paper for Psychology has become an absolute miserable nightmare that has me verging on complete failure.  Before all the incidents of brain damage, writing came very easily to me.  Writing an eight page English essay was a lark.  Now, every sentence, every coherent thought is a struggle.  My brain becomes overwhelmed and refuses to respond.  I close my eyes - breath through the stress of the brain malfunction - hit the reset button and try again.  How many times I have performed this action during these sit down sessions to write I can not begin to count.  Sometimes I just have to walk away but I must come back ... I have no choice.  If I stop trying I fail and fail hard.  How can I face my own self in the mirror if I do not write the papers, pass these final two classes and obtain my undergraduate degree at last.

The ultimate embarrassment was having to admit this colossal brain breakdown to my two teachers.  To confess to brain failure due to depression is hard for someone who has never suffered depression to understand.  I have the backup of the paperwork from the Disabled Student's Office to "prove" my claim and yet there is a chasm that can not be crossed between my reality and their understanding of what I am going through.  It is like trying to have a conversation with someone while on opposites sides of the grand canyon - you might get bits and pieces but you won't be able to understand the whole of what the other person is trying to scream across the canyon at you.  That is what it feels like to communicate with others on a more professional level about my struggle.  I did what I didn't want to do but was forced to do because of my illness ... I sent them what I had actually written so far to show that some progress had been made but still ... to admit the failure and why ... it breaks me down just that much further.

The sands are slipping through my fingers - I am praying for a miracle as I say prayers of thanks and gratitude for the family and friends who love and support me. I look at the faces of my daughters - feel their hugs and know, there is no choice - I can not fail for if I can not face myself, how can I face them?