Thursday, December 31, 2015

2015 recap

As someone who always keeps a running journal to jot down my thoughts, I can easily flip through the past year and see what stood out. Here are a few highlights from 2015

Depression poems published! (http://understoreymagazine.ca/article/postpartum-three-poems/)

The joy of yoga! (which will be full again in January...)

Feeling fat, but also feeling strong and seeing successful weight loss

My baby starting daycare

Vettel moving to Ferrari

My best friend's baby!

My other best friends tragic ectopic pregnancy

Accepting that my body fed my kids, so it's okay that it's not what it used to be.

Building a backyard for the kids

Discovering two new favourite authors; Fiona McIntosh and Kate Morton

Writing again!

Mudhero with my Mom

A love of sewing

Our family is complete

Going off my antidepressants a year early

Another autumn late night trip to the ER, this time for an ovarian cyst rupture

A wonderful visit from my mother and sister in law

A fun escape to Toronto for a few days

Trudeau sweeping in with a majority

A disappointing tendinitis that set me back almost 2 months of running

Getting back up to 5K by the end of the year

A tooth extraction

orthotics 

And finally, on December 28 I saw Star Wars with Tim and my Dad

Friday, December 18, 2015

Hallunications Hovering

Over a year ago my husband took me to the ER at 2am while my mom came to watch the kids. My brain had experienced such intense sleep deprivation that I experienced a hypnagogic hallucination. I felt a few more throughout the months that followed that trip, but fortunately it's not overly dangerous and as long as someone can be with me at the time I didn't need to go to the hospital. 

It's not dangerous, but it's terrifying. It always began the same; my arms would start to jerk and spaz uncontrollably. This was shortly followed by my grasp on reality - that grasp that the majority of people have all the time and never really think about - slipping away. I could feel my sanity being taken from me. Stolen by a lack of sleep. The most frightening part is that it doesn't happen instantly. It takes a few minutes of laying there, wrestling with it, fighting to stay sane. Bargaining, offering anything, anything to stay sane. My mantra would become "stay with me, stay with me" because it feels like I'm about to disappear into madness.Of the times that it took over, it lasts for about an hour. You talk, chatter, jerk, swim on the floor, watch your hands floating, giggle and spin around. And somewhere in the back you're still there, but you won't be able to get back to "normal" for at least an hour.

Sometimes I was able to fight it back, keep it at bay. It's been so long since I've experienced that. But then last night I came so close. I must have forgotten to take my sleeping pills because at 12:30am I was still wide awake (normally I fall asleep around 9:30-10pm). My arms started to spaz and the fear of losing my mind returned. I chanted to myself to stay sane, to "stay with me." I took another, or the first, pill and was lucky to fall back to sleep instantly. 

But coming so close again made me realise just how deep this wound is. Over a year ago the initial "break" occurred, and yet I'm still extremely sensitive to sleep deprivation. Our minds are so fragile. It's not like a broken bone that heals and then you're okay. The wounds of the mind take years to heal, yet no one can see it. 

And in case you are wondering, the sleeping medication I'm on is Quetiapine. Also known as Seroquel. This drug is not a "sleeping pill" - it's an anti-psychotic and in high doses is used for schizophrenic patients. I'm on 50 a night. If I were to take 100 a night, I would be sedated.  That's how sever my sleep disorder is, how fragile my mind is right now. Still, after 15 months.

Monday, December 7, 2015

Feminist Experiment

As 2015 comes to a close, I've noticed there are still so many articles about women being threatened just because they identify as a feminist. Serious threats, such as rape, murder, and murder of family members. Yet when these cowards (because that's what they are) issue the threats, they are not held accountable. I'm not entirely sure why, as I haven't experienced these threats. If I did, I would call the police. Threats like that should not be taken lightly. Yet thousands are made every day. I'm sure some of those women have contacted the authorities, but nothing is done. So some women take matters into their own hands and contact the mans employers (awesome) or their family members (equally awesome) in an attempt to get some kind of action. Because if the police aren't going to take it seriously then what other options are there than to take matters into their own hands?

So this is my experiment. I, a person who wields no influence over the general masses, am going to start writing some feminist-esk blogs to see what happens. Will people I don't know threaten me? Will they attempt to belittle me and spew cruelties at me? It hasn't happened yet, but once I announce to the internet that I'm a feminist, will I be attacked because I want equality for women and men? 

I'm not into twitter and my facebook is just personal, so I won't be tearing up social media unless friends share my blog posts. I work full time and am a mom when not at work, then I sleep. So I don't really have time to live on the internet as well. 

Here is my first feminist statement, with more to follow over the next few weeks. These are just a few, feel free to add your own in the comments.

5 Reasons Why We Need Feminism:
(in no order)

1. So when a serial rapist, who happens to be a famous male, is caught, he will go to jail
2. So women never, ever, feel like they are to blame after being assaulted / sexually assaulted
3. So students are educated early in life that feminism only means equality for men and women
4. To do away with the ridiculous saying "boys will be boys" when boys are acting in a way towards girls that deserves discipline 
5. And, on the lighter side, so there will be a sitcom / popular show with a plus size, average looking woman married to a typical "hot" man, instead of the other way around like it always is

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Inside Words ... aka Going off my Antidepressants



Dig your way out with words. Lift one up and put it down. Keep digging, we’re not even close yet. Totally trapped in this cave of insanity. Everything is coming at me, covered in a heavy layer of dusty madness. Try to brush it off but that just gets it under the skin. I can’t get it off in here. There is no clean air, there is no cleansing water. It is stale and hot and I can’t breathe. Why would my mind put me here? How did I even get here? Am I so weak to change? Something is different and everything falls through these cracks. I can’t remember it all! I have too much to remember. Sneakers, music, pass, food, kid’s clothes, so much. Routine keeps it all together. Change it and I get locked in this cave.

How the hell do I get out of here? I’m so lost and broken. So broken. Covered in cracks that the dust get in to. How can I get out? Lift another word, maybe? Look, you won’t get out just by sitting in here and wishing for a way out, wishing and lamenting on how broken you are. Another layer of dust. Screams to get it off. Want to squirm and cry out, writhe on the ground to get it off but that won’t help. It won’t help! So deal with it. Screaming WON’T HELP! Deal with it, Empress. Get past this. Why does it feel like I can’t?

Find a way. Find a way and we’ll get out of here. Just want to get out of here. Please… crying won’t help, either. The rage, the sadness, the anxiety – none of that will free you. I can hear it raining on the other side of the rock wall. If I could just get to it. . . just get out of this cave that I can never seem to escape from.

Lift another word. They are so heavy and there are too many. I’m a tornado in a cave. I can spin all I want and cause intense destruction, but I will still be stuck here when I burn out. I can scratch at the rocks but that will just leave me sore and bloody. It won’t change. Then how do I get out? Physical prowess doesn’t matter here.

Everything that makes up this wall is small and awkward. There are no short cuts. No way to lift more than one at a time. So, there must be only one way, then. Persistence. If I just keep doing it, I’ll get out of here. Just keep breathing. Even though you’re covered with the dust. If feels thick and heavy, it feels suffocating, but there will never be enough to seize you into immobility as long as you keep moving. Keep moving, keep digging. If you stop, if you use your energy in the bursts of frustration you will get no further and only lose precious strength and time.

Focus, come with me. Keep lifting. Go through it, and the pile becomes larger behind you than in front of you. The rocks are now damp with that rain you so desire. If you just keep going, keep things going slowly, you will get there.

Don’t let a quick fix seduce you. Don’t give into the anger. The anger is so raw. It is not a normal anger. It is a ferocious rage. Can’t stress enough how powerful this anger is to someone who has never know it. And how seductive. That release that comes when you give in. When you finally explode and let free the destruction. It is tempting, even more so in this cave. Keeping it back, forcing yourself to keep digging slowly and carefully, is a battle so few experience, and even fewer understand.

Frustration. That’s a heavy one to lift. It’s the root of all of this, isn’t it? All of me, all of this madness. What a horrible thought, to think that your core is nothing but a knotted ball of twisted metal. No, there must be more to me than that. Pick up that word and move it away. So close now. But it falls, it’s so heavy and wet, and crushes part of me as it lands. But that’s okay. It marks me up on the outside, bruises and scars, makes me bleed tears of blood and water, but it does not penetrate. It’s an outside word. And that’s what I’m digging through. The outside words. The words that try to hurt and keep you buried in this horrible place.

Keep digging. Cry if you must, but keep digging. The rocks are smaller now. But the rain from outside is making them slippery. It’s hard to get a grip. The dark rain is what you seek, but remember that bit of Sunny you once had in your life. The last 5% is often the hardest, and most important.

A small tumble of stones. You have moved so many big ones, the little ones are tumbling down on their own now. Falling around your feet as you walk over them. And you are walking over them. We’re not going that deep into this cave EVER AGAIN! We’re going to get out of here for good. We’re going to focus on the inside words. Strength, compassion, joy and love.

The hole is now big enough to squirm through. There are a few words that dig in, leaving scratches that will take a while to heal, but they will heal. You’ve made it out. The air is fresh and cool. The rain washes all the dust away. It melts off your skin, pooling on the ground below. You are shining in this clean water. The dust from the misery is gone. Some got under the skin and will be there for more than a day, more than a week and even more than a month, but it will be pushed out. My body will cleanse itself of the murky madness. The inside words will purge all that is left of the outside ones. The ones I had to dig through to get clean again. To get back to me.