Day One of Me

March 2022. The month I decided it is time to take care of me. I had a really bad week at the beginning of the month. So bad that I had no energy to even get out of bed. If you have been following along all these years (thank you for that), then you would know that I struggle with anxiety and depression. It isn’t something that is brand new. But it is something that I have started to make known to people. People who are especially close to me. I’ve come to realize and acknowledge that I can’t do this alone. I need help. I need to be “treated”. And I cannot do this alone.

When I woke up this morning, I was exhausted. I had not been sleeping very well and I was really nervous about this appointment with a new therapist. I get maybe 4-6 hours of sleep a night. Broken up sleep. I will sleep for maybe 2 hours and then wake up. Be awake for a few minutes then fall asleep for another 2 hours…. and this is every night. I don’t just have a bed time and sleep through the night. It is awful. I am just so tired.

Monday happened. Tuesday went by. Wednesday came and went.Thursday was there and then suddenly it was Friday. When Saturday came around, I realized I hadn’t been able to get out of my bed in five days. 5 days!! I sat in my bed and tried my best to think back about the week. What did I do all week?? Why didn’t I get anything done? What did my kids do?? Did I get up at all??

To be honest, the week was a complete blur. I did, actually, get out of bed. But only to take my eldest girls to work. I did get out of bed to eat. I got out of bed to shower. I got out of bed to do the necessary human survival things. But those were minimal. Those were necessary to not die. But the rest of the week…. I was in bed. Did the kids miss school? Oh, yeah. Did I make them do their schoolwork and homework?? Nope. I had no energy at all to make them or force them or argue with them. I couldn’t even raise my voice if I wanted to.

This scared me. And it scared me because I don’t remember the last time this ever happened. Probably when I was pregnant with the twins and I was asked to pick a date to terminate. That was a time in my life that I locked myself up in a vault and refused to go back to. But I guess, now that I mentioned it…. I should acknowledge it happened. So….. yeah. That happened.

But I, for the first time in probably ever, finally said to myself, OUTLOUD : I. Need. Help.

I need help.

I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep living like I am dying. I can’t keep living like I am in SURVIVAL MODE. Survival mode was necessary. Survival mode was something that I needed to live in while Matthew was sick. Survival mode was a place that I felt most in control. I knew that if I was just SURVIVING, I would be okay. My kids would be okay. I would still be here and everything would just be OKAY! I did what I needed to do to get through every single day.

But here I was now…. supposed to be “livin’ my best life”. And I wasn’t. I was miserable. I was sad. I was tired. I was full of this incredible anxiety that clouded my entire being. The depression was still dark and still cloudy and still overwhelming. This was NOT the life I wanted or expected to be living at this point.
Matthew is 4 years Post-Transplant. We have a home after being homeless for a couple years. He was healthy. My big girls were working. The other kids were healthy. They were cared for and loved. But here I am… stuck.

And the week that I stayed in bed… unable to move… unable to get out of bed… unable to pull down the sheets below my eyes… it scared me. I have been in “the dark pit” before. But before I got through it. Before I understood it. I knew where it came from. I knew where it was. And I knew, logically, how to get out. But this… this was different. This was a darkness I haven’t thought of before. I was exhausted. And I was numb. It felt like my emotions finally protested against me and said, NO!!!

So the next following week Matthew had an appointment with his clinic. And in this clinic we see all specialists, including a social worker. (Shes actually a GOOD social worker. Not one that sleeps with married men… but that’s a story for another day. *cough cough*) Anywho. She asked if there was anything she could do to help and I asked about the MEND program for families with sick kids. And thankfully, she referred me that day. I received a call the next day to meet with a therapist and started the program.

So far I am 5 weeks into the program and I am feeling pretty great. I didn’t think I would be able to go through with this… therapy. Talking about my life. Talking about the past few years… my marriage, my kids, my life, my future… It was never anything I ever wanted to face or discuss. But here I am… facing it and discussing it.

I would love to keep you posted on my progress. So I shall see you soon.



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