Needy

First, a confession.  I love ANTM (America's Next Top Model, for those of you not "in the know").  Every once in a while, a plus size model makes it as a contestant.  Tyra doesn't call those models "plus size" - she calls them "fiercely real."  

As a blogger, I try to be "fiercely real."  I don't sugar coat or edit out things.  No, I don't post about every little detail of my life, but what I choose to share in my blog I am honest about.  And if someone doesn't like what I post, they don't have to read it. 

That being said, it's time for some "fiercely real" honesty.

I have depression/anxiety.  Not a revelation to anyone at this point.  I've been living with it for years.  It's not situational depression/anxiety, it is definitely a chemical imbalance in my brain.  I've gotten to a place where I can accept that it's a part of who I am, not the definition of who I am.  I have tried in many ways to take control of the d/a and not let it control me.  Part of that includes taking medication every day.  Every day.

I had a moment a couple of days ago where I thought, "You know, maybe I can go off my meds.  I've been taking them for a long time (2+ years) and I'm feeling pretty okay."

Simultaneously, I forgot to take my meds for 2 days (the previous thought about going off meds occurred on day 1 of forgetting).  Yesterday was day 2 of forgetting. 

As a result, yesterday was a war zone in my head.  Sure, on the outside I still looked like a productive human being.  My clothes matched (I even looked borderline cute yesterday), I was wearing makeup, my hair was done, I taught 6 lessons, I did dishes, I did laundry.  Actually, a more productive day than most (because D was off of work yesterday and watched J).  But on the inside, bombs were flying, negative thoughts were spiraling out of control, I was fixating on stupid and destructive things, and the negative voices in my head were indistinguishable from my own voice.  At the end of the day I lost it.  I stood at the sink crying while washing J's bottles.  D quietly came over and handed me my meds and a glass of water and then made me a sandwich.  And I realized I need my meds and that's ok.  It doesn't make me less of a person or less of a mother or wife or daughter or friend to need to take meds every day.  It's not a want.  It's a need.

And this brings me to another point.  It's ok for mom's (and daughters, wives, sisters, women, humans) to have needs.  And to have those needs met.  I am really good at delegating my needs to the later category.  Like, I'll eat later.  Or I'll sleep later.  And instead of spending a few minutes meeting my needs, I work on something else instead that is "more important" because my needs aren't as necessary as someone else's needs.  For example, why is it more important that my husband eat than me eat?  I don't know.  Somehow I feel like my needs don't carry as much weight or aren't as deserving of time or attention as someone else's needs.  But they do.  And I need to remember that.  I need to remember that I'm useless (like crying at the sink useless) unless I take care of myself and take care of needs.  You can't share your oil (ie serve others) if your lamp is empty, right?  Right?

D/A definitely makes life hard.  Challenging.  Shortly after J was born, D gave me a blessing and told me that Satan was going to work really hard to use my d/a to drag me down.  I struggle with my feelings of individual worth and with separating the destructive voices from my own voice in my head. Sometimes the destructive voices win as Satan definitely knows which buttons to push.  But it's easier to cope with and take control when my needs have been met (aka when I'm fed, medicated, well rested, etc.).