I feel like I’ve gone through lulls in my life. Lulls of sickness. I remember a lovely time period, my twenties, where I got sick maybe once a year if that. Other than the time I got the flu I had a great recovery time. Now, I’m not naive in thinking that we still have that amazing recovery time that we did when we were younger. But I also feel like I’ve been sick back to back to back and I’m over it. Granted, this has been the lesser of all the evils in the past couple of months. Other than the right side of my nose laughing at me because I keep trying to blow it and NOTHING comes out. I’m going to be that nasal woman who answers the phone all day today. Could be worse.
I’m writing this of course because this has not been my main problem of late. Last week I focused most of my time perfecting the letter to my mom on her sixtieth birthday. To say I was in a bit of a funk last week is to say the least. I consider them to be mini depressions. I’m fine when in groups most of the time, but for the most part I withdraw and I don’t want to do anything. Of course last week did not help with all the snow and ice. I got out more than most people, because my dad knows how to drive well in it, but for the most part I had no desire to do anything. The only desire I had was to finish this letter. Thus, a mini depression.
I don’t say this to make light of depression. I feel like despite being on medication for anxiety and depression after my mom passed, I was still depressed for most of 2010. If not all of it really considering the breakdown I had after putting up all the Christmas decorations like my mom did for Christmas that year. There are still times that this hits me though and I feel worthless and like I’m not meant for a damn thing in life. I get to a point of not being complacent, but believe that I cannot do better no matter what I know deep down is not true. And in a lot of ways that changed once my mother died. It’s not what she would have wanted me to think in the least. IN THE LEAST. I think that is why writing the letter to her last week was so important to me. Well, I know that is the reason why really.
About a week ago I took one of those silly Facebook quizzes that tell you what you should stop doing in the upcoming year. I took it because why not right? I feel that way with most of these quizzes, but the result left me sitting there staring at it a little dumbfounded. This is what I saw:
Now considering that is part of the reason I started this blog and really diving back into writing that is a strange thing to see. I feel like in a lot of ways I’ve held myself back when it comes to my writing. I let trolls get to me far more than I should have before. Words that should not have damaged me as much have. This does not just pertain to writing though. I’ve had some ugly voices in my head for a long time. Some of them have been my own. I over think far too much. I know that I have the habit of going back on every conversation I’ve ever had. The truth is hardly any of the conversations I focused on for so long were worth having in the first place.
In fact, I remember while in college, and for some reason or another I remember this one conversation far too vividly, where someone I had once deemed a friend informed me that he quit taking classes with one of our other professors because he felt this professor coddled students who didn’t really have talent and didn’t care for the ones you did have talent. I don’t know what is worse, the fact that I knew he was talking about me or the fact that I’ve held onto it this long. For years I’ve given that thought far too much power. For years I’ve wondered my own self worth. And I’m just done.
Here’s what I know now that I wish I had known then. These thoughts are nothing. But overall I’m done. I’m done worrying about what other people think. I’m done letting them have this much power over me. For the most part I laugh at remarks now because to me they are funny. Are they going to continue to plague me at my darkest hours from time to time? Probably. Because as a human being depression and anxiety doesn’t magically disappear and lord knows when you are an over-thinker it is about a thousand times worse. Everything feels amplified at times, but another thing I know is that I can get through it. I’ve gotten through a hell of a lot in life that’s for sure and while I know this isn’t the end of my anxiety or my last mini depression, I’m ready to tell the nagging voices in my head where they can shove it. That’s progress right? Yes, yes it is.