Carrying a Stack of teacups through life

teacups-stacked2What it’s like to have a life that’s stacked like those vintage teacups that get passed down from generation to generation. I sit in Sabina’s office, one of the many counselors I have seen, but she gets me the most. I know she met her husband in Japan and has a daughter who has “special needs” because she’s cool like that. I gotta Other counselors wrap themselves up so tightly that you think you might be looking at a ghost.
I sit on the left side of the couch, because I can never switch things up. She has a tiny box on the couch-side table with sand and a teensy rake. Apparently it helps?
I say Sabina “I never know where I will be from second to second. I feel great but then that stack comes crashing down and I face plant”. She nods thoughtfully. “That must be very frustrating to have no idea when things are going to change”. She sits across from me in her office chair, but she always looks relaxed. Sita, they were trained to be relaxed. Duh. You know that. I look at the ground. “Uh yeah it’s scary. It’s hard to talk about but I can’t be a recluse”. “You’re doing a great job Sita.” Just like those teacups. I think to myself. They never break. Their strength in history makes them stronger. I’m not sure- I never studied history. I studied a dumber version for students with learning disabilities. What do I know about history? All I know is that the past is the past, although right now can change. I force myself outside, all the while bringing those cups with me. Who knows what will happen? Without living, who knows? I have learned that. Moving through life with stacked teacups is tiring, but I gotta do what I gotta do.

Advertisements

Have You Fallen Into the Depression Trap?

Halle-f*ing-luah! I made it out of the house! I have been struggling a lot with depression again as it has decided to loom it’s ugly head.
If you have never had any depressive episodes, first of all knock on wood immediately. In my talking with my mental health crap, everyone experiences it very differently.
my shoes.jpg
My depression is like a wet towel. It’s not cold, but very heavy. I mean, have you ever tried carrying around a sopping wet towel? Not too comfortable. At the same time, I don’t feel super happy or sad. I just can’t really feel anything. Ask me to meet you somewhere last minute? Forget it. It is very hard carrying my body around- and I think people feel this regardless of their weight.

My depression is a bit of a trickster. It tells me that no one likes me, and someone is ignoring me on purpose. It tells me I am alone, when in fact I have an amazing fiancee who works her ass off, parents who couldn’t be more supportive, and a brother who lends support from afar. I have friends who check in with me, and cousins I can talk to, plus extended family.

My friend Ty has been through the same stuff as I am going through, and when I was struggling to put on my shoes he said “I always know that I’ll feel better when I leave”. A mantra that I used in university popped into my head “I’ve done it before so I can do it again”. Like that, I managed to pop my feet into my ever so stylish if Kate Spade and Keds had a baby shoes, and grabbed the keys.  Oh My GOD! I made it! I probably sat there on the couch for ten minutes trying to decide whether to go out. I wanted the stimulation of other people being around, so naturally doing my writing in a coffee shop seemed ideal.

The world was a bit grey and gloomy out, but I was so proud to walk down the street. I just knew I wasn’t able to lie on the couch the rest of the day. (Even though my fiancee offered to get my blister pack, I wanted to take that task out of her day).

I know this will pass, and since I have been there before I know that for sure. So if you’re struggling, try and see a doctor (even a walk-in clinic) if you are able, and try to challenge yourself to what seems like the biggest barrier.