What "The Struggle" Looks Like... with Depression

            For the sake of authenticity, this post is a one-shot. That means it was drafted and posted with very little review or editing.

            Monday came this week with great ado: This is the day of the Total Solar Eclipse. There was much fanfare and many social media updates with photos of the sun varying in quality.

            I awoke with my daughter, ready to face the day and accomplish a set list of tasks. My intention was to do laundry, work out, get homework done, and clean up my room at least a little. So, I began my day slowly, as tends to happen when I don’t have school or actual requirements for a day.

            Things began well. I put my daughter on the toilet, dressed her (in big-girl panties!), gave her breakfast, dressed myself and prepared for the gym, and drank my morning tea. I stopped to visit my friend on my way to the gym. It was a good time and I felt good about how the day was going. I wasn’t even upset about missing the eclipse, as there’s another one in the United States in 2024. I’ll drive to Texas to see it, even. It doesn’t bother me.

            I got to the gym and they told me that because I haven’t been a member with Planet Fitness for 90 days yet, I can’t change my home gym, and because I can’t change my home gym, I can’t work out at the Tacoma location again unless I pay a $5 franchise fee. Well, that’s just asinine, so I told them to suck it by saying, “Thanks anyway,” and walking away.

            Coming home, I thought I might go for a run while Persephone slept. She had yet to go down, so we had some lunch and I even cooked my breakfast to eat for the next two days. My plan was to get Persephone down after lunch and get busy working out, but then I heard from my friend. I thought he’d be able to work out with me, so I postponed working out and instead made progress on an essay for my communications class.

            My friend’s car broke down, so he couldn’t take me to my home gym for us to work out, so I finished my homework. Then, miraculously, my grandpa gave up the TV and I was able to start Sweatin’ to the Oldies 2 by Richard Simmons. The video started and I don’t like it nearly as well as I like the first Sweatin’ to the Oldies “aerobic concert” of his, but I was determined to get through it just to have done an exercise.

            Alas, I was interrupted by my daughter, waking from her nap with a load of poop in her pull-up.

            Inexplicably, all good humor was gone from me. Without shouting or even saying a word to my daughter, I gathered the materials to change her and went about it. I said very little except to direct her to lie down for cleaning and then get up when I was done. I allowed her to get her big-girl panties from our room and wear them, despite having had a poopy accident, because she’s done very well these past couple of days with using the toilet.

            Suddenly, I was filled with sadness. Depression, even, and I asked Persephone for a hug to help me feel better. She was happy to oblige.

            When I say that my depression is a daily struggle, this is what I mean. None of these events was enough to put me in a mood. Nothing that happened on this day could possibly have been enough of a trigger to set me into a depressive spiral, and yet here I am, wondering why I feel like garbage.

            To itemize my day like this makes me sound like I’m whining about choices I made. That isn’t the case. Things are outlined in this post because I felt it relevant to show that it doesn’t matter how well a day is going (there has been very little wrong with today), depression can come at any time and hit as hard as it wants to.

            Everyone goes through ups and downs. Some days are all up; some days are all down; some days are a roller coaster of emotions. Everyone experiences this. Some people might think that what I went through today is nothing short of normal, but here’s the way I see it: Normal would be the ability to recognize that the day has really been quite productive and refrain from the crippling, all-consuming depression that enveloped me for some time, this afternoon. Even as I write this, I feel it lingering. Every keystroke is a hand, grasping upwards to avoid falling into the bottomless pit of sorrow and meaninglessness.

            Thanks for reading.

A Letter to My Former Husband

Dear Heartbreaker,

You don't deserve my thoughts or my emotions, yet you provoke me just enough to elicit repsonse. You know you do this because you're a Narcissist and everything you do is deliberate.

You told me you loved me. You told me you needed me. Then, without so much as wind of warning, you left me high and dry, wondering why we couldn't have gone to counseling to work through our issues. I was blessed to have our daughter with me.

You're a liar. Nothing you ever told me was true unless it was easily disproven, like your age, hometown, and other shallow information that only penetrates the peripheral layers of your self. Everything else was fabrication, deception, and manipulation.

I tried so hard to work with you. I did everything in my power to communicate effectively. Nothing was ever enough. You wouldn't stick to things you agreed to. You constantly told me things were "taken care of," but the moment we separated it was as though doors had opened and I was buried under the lies in the form of bills you'd left unpaid.

I worked up the courage to have you served. I thought to myself, "He told me he wanted to marry me all over again. This can be his opportunity to prove it." But, just like with bills, you proved that you're a liar, because you've never once asked me how I'm doing. You haven't once asked what I'm up to. When you first left, you ignored all of my posts about our daughter and our well-being. Now, you end every interaction you start with, "Deuces," and you spell it wrong.

My heart is broken, but I don't want your excuses anymore. I'm putting the pieces back together all by myself. You never once tried to help me put the pieces of my heart together in the first place; I simply had them taped in a group to try keeping the whole thing together in one place. Still, I think you took a piece or two when you went.

You can say whatever you want. You can give me the flimsy excuse that you "didn't have time," but I know that's a lie. All you do is lie and create bullshit excuses for your inappropriate behavior. I know what's real and what's not, since you've been gone, and you will never know how often my face leaks or doesn't over what I thought was supposed to be with you.

We were supposed to have a family. We were supposed to be an unstoppable force of love that would push forward and take the world by storm. Instead, you're a lazy piece of shit who wants to make excuses, lie on his ass, collect money he doesn't deserve, and spin tales of success that never happened.

I offered couples counseling multiple times. When I suggested it while we were together, you failed to follow through, just like you refused to drive me to my follow-up appointment after surgery and I totaled my car. Your response was less than sympathetic and I should have known then, like I should have known when you went behind my back to get formula for our newborn, that you do not care for me. You have no love for me. You have no respect for me.

Well, I have none of those things for you, either, anymore. Karma will find her way to you. I know you do a lot of innocuous tasks to keep her at bay, but she'll find you. She has her ways.

Sincerely,
The Woman Who Loved You Most.

New Friends

My life has been marked by few friendships and many acquaintances, not all of them pleasant. Living with my mother for two years as a kid had a significant impact on my social life as I grew up and even as an adult. As an adult, I find that friends are harder to find only because I am not placed in a room with a group of people on a daily basis, as is the case as a child going through school. This will change soon enough as I go back on campus at Evergreen, but until then, every new friend I make is significant. I’ve made one, recently, and I have a new acquaintance who may well become a friend.

            I met Kita through my friend Kat and initially only found myself at Kita’s house when it had to do with Kat in one way or another. At last, though, I added Kita to Facebook and we started to hang out without Kat around. I even brought Persephone over to hang out with the kids, especially since there’s a little playground right in front of Kita’s back patio. The playground is great and I really enjoy taking Persephone over to play and hang out; it’s time that she can climb and have fun as well as socialize with some other children who are her age, older, and younger.

            Persephone’s new friends include 3-year-old Nessa, 6-year-old Aliy, and nearly-1-year-old Atalia. That doesn’t include the other children who go through the house; 6-year-old (I think) Caitlyn, a baby boy, and 2-year-old Mazaeah. It’s nice to get out sometimes and take her over to hang out, rather than keeping her in our apartment by herself and having her play with her toys forever.

            The first time I took Persephone to Kita’s house turned into an adventure. Kat was with us and I was uncomfortable letting Persephone outside to play with the other girls without supervision, so I went outside with her so she could play on the playground under my watch. Naturally, while I was out there, she thought it would be a good idea to take off around the side of the building, and I caught her and brought her back to the playground with ease. A little later, I thought Nessa, who speaks in clear, full sentences, could keep an eye on her and alert me if something happened. I was right in my thoughts, but I could not predict what would happen.

            “Her gone,” Nessa said in her sweet little voice. My immediate reaction was a less-than-graceful, “What?!” I had been sitting in the living room with my friends and Nessa stood in the doorway and repeated, “Her gone.”

            I ran back to the bedroom, threw my shoes on, and ran outside, immediately yelling for Persephone the moment I hit open air. Freaking out, I took off in the direction Percy had gone when she’d tried doing her own thing while I’d been watching; then I noticed that my friends were heading the other way around the building, under the direction of Nessa, who was quite the good little watcher and knew which way Persephone had gone. It was a good thing, too, because when I followed the herd and passed it, going around the building, I found Persephone trying to play with a boy who looked older than her, but was still a child. It was a relief to know that she hadn’t gone far; still, I immediately called for her with urgency and she came at last.

            We left shortly after that incident, but I didn’t think of it as an experience that should keep Persephone away; instead, I figured I would have to ensure she was monitored when necessary. With Persephone’s next visit, I asked Aliy and Caitlyn to watch her and it worked quite well. Our last visit saw all the children indoors the whole time, as it had been raining, and that worked well for me because I didn’t need to monitor Persephone’s actions while indoors. She really is a good child and she generally stuck around the other kids until it started to get late.

            I enjoy spending time with Kita because she’s nice, I like smoking with her, and her home is the kind of child-friendly that allows me to bring my own kid and let her play with the others in the house. We’re all moving in August and I’m moving pretty far away, but it’s nice to have someone to spend time with until the time comes to pack and move. I also think we’ll still spend time together even after we move.

An Adventure in Puppy Fostering

This week has had an eventful start. I’ve managed to spend a good amount of time with friends, particularly one who regularly takes care of about five children, two of whom are pretty close in age with Persephone. Her name is Kita and she recently acquired a 2-year-old, half-Labrador/half-Chihuahua puppy.

            She needs to have someone take Milo, the dog, until her boyfriend’s lease ends in August and they move into a house. I thought the person to watch Milo could be me; after all, I have another dog and she could use a canine companion, and my cat is chill enough that it shouldn’t be a huge problem. She’d also told me that Milo was good with other dogs and cats, as well as children, so I had high hopes.

            So, Tuesday night, I took Milo home with me. Before entering my apartment with him, I took him for a little walk and he peed. I didn’t go too far or insist on watching him poop, as it was the end of the day, I still had to walk Baby, and I assumed he had probably pooped earlier in the day. So, I took him inside long enough to drop off his supplies, then grabbed my dog and took both of them outside.

            The greeting process was highly energetic. Milo was all over Baby, sniffing, and Baby was overwhelmed. My poor dog is so timid that this little 2-year-old puppy was intimidating her despite being smaller than she is.

            A few problems arose right away. First, Milo started barking the moment he met Randy. I put him in Baby’s crate almost immediately, to try shutting him up. We put a blanket over the top so that he wouldn’t have any stimulation and he could calm the fuck down in his own space. That was my thought process, anyway. I had to let him out, though, because his barking got worse in the crate. So, I let him out of the crate and put Baby in it so that he wouldn’t be able to bother her.

            That didn’t work. He was restless and would wander back to my bedroom, where I’d hear Baby’s growl arise from his intrusion. I managed to keep him in the living room for the most part for a little while, but then it was time for me to go to bed. Milo seemed slightly improved; he’d been listening to me, at least a little. I left him in the living room and went to bed, letting Baby out of her crate so she could lie next to my side of the bed the way she likes.

            That didn’t work, either. Milo whined, barked, and scratched at my door persistently enough that sleep was out of the question the way I was trying it. Still, I tried until I couldn’t stand the noise anymore and I got up to check on him…

Problem the second, he pooped all over our floor in front of the front door. And I mean all over—it was scattered little-dog poop (mind you, Milo is not an ankle biter; he’s about knee-high to me and I’m 5’8”). Randy had just gotten home and I saw the poop in the front hallway. Randy cleaned it up while I shoved Milo back into Baby’s crate with a new resolve to keep him there all night regardless of how much noise he made.

            Finally, his barking became whining and his whines became fewer and farther between until he was quiet except when Randy walked by. Then, he would growl and maybe bark once to voice his discomfort. I managed to get to sleep and it was glorious. I thought that the morning would be better.

            I woke up and began my day as usual, leaving Milo in the crate. I didn’t want to let him out before I was ready to walk him because I didn’t want him to potty in the house. This turned out to be an all-too-valid fear, as the moment I let him out of the crate—before I had the minute to put his harness and leash on to go outdoors—he peed on Persephone’s toys.

            I caught him the second he started, grabbed his nape, smacked his hindquarters, and shoved him down by his nape so he’d be close enough for a nice strong whiff of his piss. I didn’t rub his nose in it. He yelped and, while I don’t think I hurt him, I did reconsider the course of action I was taking to ask myself if there wasn’t some other way of punishing him for his actions. Meanwhile, I took him and Baby outside while Randy cleaned up the mess.

            This was quite early in the morning; I don’t think it was even 09:00 yet. I walked around the entire apartment complex, thinking all the while that Milo has a great deal of energy and the regular shortness of walks I take with Baby would not be sufficient. I also wanted to make sure he got out as much pee and poop as he had in him, so I was quite pleased when he did poop outside—a decent amount, it seemed, though it could have been more. I learned that later…

            It’s one thing to have a dog who is noisy and needs correction. It’s another to have a dog who seems completely un-housebroken. I took a shower yesterday to take my friend Katherine to City Hall to get her passport. After my shower ended, somehow, both Randy and Persephone ended up in the bathroom with me. When we stepped out, there it was again—

            Poop. All over the front entry. Again.

            Jumbo Chihuahua shit.

            That’s the best way I can describe it. If you’ve seen dog poop, you’ve seen the different ways it comes out of dogs’ asses, and you know that little dog shit looks different than big dog shit. Well, Milo’s shit has the aesthetic of little dog shit, but is on a slightly bigger scale because of the Labrador in him.

            Milo had shit all over my front entryway again.

            I had been considering, while in the shower, giving it a couple of days with Milo to see how things would go. With the second scattering of dog shit on my floor—and the second bout of relief at my refusal to live in a carpeted apartment paying off with the ease of cleaning up animal waste—I realized that watching Milo would be overwhelming, despite my best hopes.

            He had seemed better behaved after the initial pee incident on Persephone’s toys. I thought the pee was just an accident from being kenneled all night and not going potty. When I saw the poop on the floor after my shower, though, I knew that watching him would be too much. I don’t have a yard; there’s no way I could have put him outside. If he stayed, I would have had to monitor him practically every waking moment, watching and waiting on edge to take him outside to avoid indoor pottying.

            I have a lot on my plate. Those who regularly read my blog are aware of this; you’ve read about some of the struggles I face with raising my daughter and getting recognized for my artwork to make money with it. The last thing I need at this stage in my life—in an apartment with no yard—is an animal shitting all over my house all the time.

            So, much to my chagrin but to Kita’s understanding, I took Milo back and explained the situation. Randy was quite angry with the puppy and probably especially angry that he was the one cleaning up the shit and piss. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with the puppy, but still I’m grateful for his actions because I was busy after my shower with keeping Persephone in my room with me, away from the dog shit.

            It was difficult having a puppy in my home, but having Milo for the night and morning made me realize how wonderful Baby is and how blessed I am with the animals I have.

Successes Week 1

This week has had many small successes. Looking back, I find it is better to look at the things I have done, rather than the things I have not done.

            Too often, I have found myself reminiscing on my day or my week, thinking, I should have done more. Monday was a turning point for me, this week, and I am proud to be able to say, today, on Saturday, that things have gone well, overall.

            This week, I saw my psychiatrist and my therapist, both. I have follow-up appointments with both of them. I returned everything I needed to, to Securitas. These things stand alone as successes for me, because I accomplished them.

            I colored one of my drawings and scanned it, but it came out as a .PDF. Still, the picture is complete and I can now use a library scanner to get a .JPG image to upload to Patreon. It will be my first new drawing posted to Patreon and it stands as the start of my work life as an artist.

            Furthermore, I fed my daughter this week—perhaps not for every meal, but I did contribute—and I contributed to cleaning the house. I also went grocery shopping and organized the refrigerator.

            So, what are my next steps, you might ask? I’ll tell you…

            My first priority is to make sure my phone stops dying in the night, so I can get up before everyone else does in the morning. My next step is to begin an exercise regimen that I complete on a daily basis. I need to do this in the morning before people wake up because when Randy gets a job, it’ll be on me to take care of our daughter without help. Having a morning exercise regimen will begin my day with purpose and success, which lends motivation and leads to movement, rather than sitting around, for me.

            My next priority is to create and foster an environment within my home that will best suit my daughter, who is a young child and deserves to feel respected, independent, and confident in herself. This will be a much more difficult task and that is why it is not my absolute first priority. After all, I must begin my day with purpose and momentum in order to achieve the movement needed to work with my child in my home.

            Already, Persephone shows interest in cleaning. She uses baby wipes to wipe down surfaces; she grabs the broom and tries to sweep with it. She wants a clean and tidy environment that she can manipulate to learn and develop. My resolve is to provide that for her, no matter how difficult it is or how long it takes to achieve the ideal environment.

            I have the whole summer to work with my child and my home while Randy finds a job. I have the whole summer to get everything together, including my transcripts for The Evergreen State College. Until September, I have the opportunity to greatly improve my health and wellness and develop a system within my home wherein my daughter can freely grow, learn, and develop.

            There is no way I can know at this time whether we will be able to purchase a home or need to rent a house. Either way, I know where we are going and I know what we seek in a living place. There is no way I can know at this time when Persephone will go back to a childcare facility, but knowing that Evergreen has a daycare on-campus sets me at ease because I know I don’t need to spend time during the day searching for just the right place for her to go.

            I’m going back to school. I thought about looking for a job, today, because although I’ve done well this week to remain positive, the voices of mania and anxiety speak to me and tell me that I need to do something that is immediately reasonable and of a regular income. They tell me that Randy will never find a job and I’m the only one who can do what it takes to provide us with the income required to purchase a home in August. This has happened to me so many times I cannot count them, but the difference this time is that I’m aware they’re false thoughts.

            Randy is perfectly capable of finding a job between now and August. However, if he doesn’t, I now recognize that it isn’t the end of the world. If he stays at home, it frees me up this summer to spend a good amount of time at the library, to and from which I can walk. At the library, I can work on my art and my writing to post to Patreon. I can scan my pictures the moment I finish working on them and I can sit in a quiet place and write my heart out until a story emerges.

            Owning a home has been the “end goal” for a while, but it’s time to change that because owning a home is not the end-all, be-all of life and it will not inherently change the way we live. It is much more reasonable for me to set smaller, shorter-term goals and work towards owning a home when it is absolutely possible, even if that means next year or the year after.

            I’ve felt like shit because my peers are buying homes and I feel like I’m behind them. I fail to see, in those moments, my peers who are just like me or worse off. I fail to truly look around myself and notice that I am in a stable place, if not the most ideal, and I have time to get to where I want to be. My greatest revelation on Monday was realizing that I have time.

            So, I’m going to use it.

Revelations and Foundation

I got up on time today.

            I’ve set my alarm so many times and simply turned it off and continued sleeping. Not today. Today is the beginning of a new way of life, a new schedule that I can stick to because my foundation lies on a solid schedule. Having a schedule and keeping certain things like breakfast, lunch, and dinner regular is where my life can truly begin.

            My life has just begun. Ever since I had my daughter, I’ve been living as if my life is over, but it isn’t. I’ve just separated from the military, though it now goes on two years since the separation, and I’ve just had a beautiful little girl who is growing into a wonderful child. I’ve struggled intensely with depression, but the truth is that my life has just begun. Now, I get to determine what happens.

            I get to be Mommy. This was a revelation for me because I thought about my daughter as if she were me; what would I want if I were two years old? And I realized—I can provide my daughter with everything I wanted and needed when I was her age. I can give her the life I never had—hell, she already has it. She already has both parents raising her with love and kindness as much as possible. That’s something I never had.

            I have a foundation. I’ve been feeling like I’m floundering endlessly in an abyss, trying to find footing and build a life for myself without a foundation. I realized, yesterday, that my foundation exists. It’s time for me to build upon it. My foundation is a regular schedule and a clean house and as long as I have a schedule, I can build upon it. My schedule now includes a morning workout, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, every single day. Twice a week, it includes laundry, and that is non-negotiable unless something comes up—but the great thing is that laundry is something I can put into any other day of the week. Just because I have it for Saturdays and Sundays doesn’t mean I can’t do it on a Wednesday.

            Now that I’ve created a schedule, I can work around and with it. I’ve scheduled breakfast to be at 07:30 every morning, but it is almost that time right now and I haven’t started because my daughter is still sleeping. My plan is to finish this blog entry and make breakfast; I expect she’ll wake while I’m cooking and I can get her up then. But having a schedule is my foundation and it is what helps me get out of bed in the morning and start my day with purpose, as I did this morning by getting out of bed and doing schoolwork.

            Life is measured by small achievements and big achievements. Both are equally important. I’ve had a few big achievements in my life and one of them was giving birth to my daughter. In fact, giving birth to my daughter was such a large achievement that now I need to focus on the little ones—like getting out of bed with purpose every morning and feeding my child when she’s hungry.

            I need to focus on myself, but in so doing, I can also focus on my daughter, for she is an extension of myself.