I’ve been thinking about some things Lynn said over the past few weeks, off and on, about her feeling that there’s more triggering of my depression that is due to her behavior, than I’m aware of. I don’t know how much of it is true, but I’ve come to the conclusion that in so many ways, it doesn’t matter anyway. Whether or not the depression came first, or the deepening of it, or her withdrawing came first, the net result is that we both have things to work on.
There are some things that I hadn’t really connected, throughout the last couple of years, that were definitely triggering my own pulling back, but I’m sure that my reaction merely increased her own responses as well. Neither one of us has been very good at the communicating thing lately, and so we returned to dealing with things in the ways we had grown up with- I tuck into myself, and become silent, and she turns outside, to ways of masking by filling time and mind with other things; both routes to Egypt, in the long run, after all we both love ‘Da Nile.
Today rather sucked, the new med made me so tired I couldn’t function, and had a splitting headache, and my guts were roiling- yuk, not liking that at all. Came home by 130 or so, climbed into bed, and was so sound asleep I never even knew Jeremy and Lynn had gotten home- and I’m thinking it’s bedtime soon again too, after all I’ve been up a whole 5 hours now!
Doesn’t help that the whole Rob thing has been putting an icy lump in my gut anyway, makes it that much harder. Have to watch carefully, and make sure I don’t let that situation sink me down either- also, can’t let myself get into a “poor me” mentality, pity parties wont help a bit.
Does feel that way though, I feel like a punching bag, or something. Start to get a bit better, getting past the suicidal thoughts, and wham, August bashes me back- then, start to get better, climbing back up again, and wham- October 15, and 22, and November 3rd; (death, interment, and birthday); start to get better, and wham- fifteen year old is trying pot.
Down we go, oh boy oh boy.
But, and this is a huge but, at least to me- I’m *not* curled into a ball, I’m *not* withdrawing, I’m *not* allowing my own darkness to squeeze in again; I’m remembering to use the weapons I’ve gained, the smiles and laughter, the memories of the giggling, or upbeat songs, any and all that I have, to fight back the black thing- and, hopefully, it’s that much weaker, cuz I’ve been wearing it down some, that I can continue to make it retreat.
So, how much of my blackness is due to outside triggering? A lot, I guess, but there’s still the skills to change my reactions, my thinking, my ability to relate to the people around me (meds don’t hurt either!), that will help me get through it; and, how can I help Rob, if I’m not available and around and aware? That, too, is a weapon, the love I have for him, for all of them- well, didn’t I say not long ago that all the facets of love are my secret weapon?
So there, black thing!