Happiness is a choice. I always try to chose happy. I look at the good things in my life instead of the things that aren’t spectacular. Some people enjoy being miserable but I am not one of those people, so I trudge forth with this insane ability to be happy with my blessings and accept things that kinda suck. Some people think it is naivete or denial, when it is just how I survive. I look at what is good, I look at what is bad, and I try to see if there is anything I can do about what is bad. If I can fix or improve what is bad, I do, if not, I make a note of it and try to accept it. It is a lot of freaking work but I refuse to chose to be unhappy because my life isn’t perfect. Life is a gift. Some days, though, I get really exhausted.
I have chronic depression, I don’t hide it. I am not ashamed of it. My brain chemistry is jacked up. I am not weak because parts of my brain have calcified; that is like believing someone is weak because they don’t produce enough insulin or because they have asthma. So, I am open about my depression. I face it and take my medicine for it. I try my best to handle the best I can.
Most people’s depression shows as sadness or complete apathy. I have that, but I also have the fun added bonus of strange anger, paranoia that I am hurting those I love or they are mad at me, and bad anxiety. The people I love know all of this about me and love me and accept me anyway. I treasure them.
I really didn’t know where I was going with this, but it is actually helping me. 80% of the time the Prozac makes everything very manageable. 80% of the time I feel my emotions how I am supposed to without help of jacked up brain chemistry. I have been very low and moody the past few days. I have had a headache since Tuesday, revising has been difficult, I have been under stress almost constantly, and I have been freaking out thinking that I might be bi-polar. (It runs in my family so it is a genuine fear for someone with established mental health issues.) I had been so happy because of my book then BOOM depression. I thought it was because I was having a hard time revising and all of that other stuff, I think I figured out what it really is while I was writing this.
I wasn’t going to write about this today. I was going to find something else to write about or just post something funny. I didn’t actually realize that things were really wrong until Kathleen mentioned it to me. I have a way of not noticing the symptoms of my depression until someone brings them up to me. I am blessed that my mom, Tina, and now Kathleen are there to carefully and lovingly point out to me I am being a loon.
Anyway, I keep digressing, I wasn’t going to write about it until I went outside to take the trash and two butterflies landed on my. I decided to write about this and be as honest as I could be. As I wrote, I realized a few things.
My difficulties and disinterest in revising are probably due to my depression.
It is the season change between summer and fall. This is a rough time for me. I have bad seasonal affective disorder. All the season switches effect me a bit but summer to fall and fall to winter are rough on me.
I am probably not bipolar. I was really happy and excited for a really good reason. I wrote my first book. That is a big freaking deal. I am depressed now because of the season changes. YaY. (Honestly, I know bi-polar is not the end of the world and I would live a happy life with it. People who know me know why I fear it so much.)
I probably put way too much stock in butterflies as messengers.
Okay, I am done over sharing now!