Crazy! Sick! Stupid! Recovery!

For the past year I have been sinking deeper and deeper into a dark fog.  I kept telling myself that I just needed to get my shit together and everything would be just fine.  Even when I could hold it together for a while, it would all come crashing down and leave me feeling more alone, worthless, empty and sad than the time before.  I actually thought I might be going insane.  But, since that was NOT an option, I continued to try and push through.  Like last November, when I hosted a houseful for Friendsgiving.  Having everyone around was always one of my favorite things, and this time was no different.  However, after everyone had completed the gluttonous meal and sat around laughing and talking, I excused myself.  I went back to my bedroom, retreated to a corner of my closet, sobbed uncontrollably, wiped my face as I stood up, went into the bathroom to splash my face and touch up my make up, then walked back out to the party and began serving pie.  Nobody was the wiser, except me.

It all came to a climactic head recently.  I had felt like I was being crushed harder and harder by some invisible weight.  I would get unreasonably angry with my husband for no real good reason.  I would cry at the drop of a feather.  I would go to work during the week, accomplishing next to nothing, and retreat into my bed the second I got home and remain there for the entire weekend.  My husband and I were driving home from dropping off our daughter, and arguing, about what I have NO idea.  We were just about to pull into our driveway, but he kept driving past.  I was FURIOUS!  “LET ME OUT OF THIS FUCKING TRUCK!!”  He said he wasn’t done talking with me.  So, I opened the door and climbed out onto the running boards and decided to jump.  I guess I didn’t really decide, because I have no idea what I was thinking.  Luckily, my husband grabbed me by the back of my shirt, ripped me backwards into the truck as he hit the brakes.  He was terrified and so was I.  He held me firm as he drove around to our driveway and let me go.  I stormed into the house.  Again, not sure what I was thinking except that everything was dark, heavy and hopeless.  What came next was completely unexpected.  I took my nails and dug a chunk of flesh out of my arm.  Seeing the blood trickling out left me stunned.  I NEEDED HELP!

I went to my therapist, which I had started seeing with my husband to try and fix our marital issues.  She quickly saw that I needed more help than a bit of extra exercise and talking could fix.  A friend of mine forwarded me a well know test for depression levels and I took it.  I was gob smacked when I scored at a level of Severe Depression.  He informed me that most people at that level were non-functioning.  I just joked that it just meant I was AFUCKINGMAZING because I was functioning just fine.  However, the bandage on my wrist said something different.  I was very lucky to get in with an amazing Psychiatrist very quickly and he diagnosed me as severely depressed and prescribed something to help me sleep and an anti-depressant.

This is where the Stupid happened.  I was SO EMBARRASSED!!  What the FUCK did I have to be depressed about?  I have a great husband, two healthy and happy children, a lovely home, a good job, a wonderful family and spectacular friends.  I had really thought that I was just failing to get my shit together.  And the thought that I had in ANY way harmed myself made me want to vomit.  I have kids, for God’s sake.  I wanted to hide it all.  I threatened my husband that if he said anything to anyone, I’d never forgive him.  The bandage was just covering a burn and NOBODY needed to know about the ballet on the running boards.  It wasn’t until I saw my husband’s face, as he told me that he wouldn’t say anything, but he NEVER wanted me to EVER expect our own children to come to us when they had a problem.  The thought crushed me, so I began talking.

I am now a ways into my medication and have decided to continue to speak openly by writing this and posting it here.  I have spoken with my mother and she was terribly worried about me, but also relieved because this helped explain why our relationship had been so strained.  I have talked with my kids.  I did not tell them about the exact events of that night, because I don’t think they need to worry about that.  I have told them that I am suffering from some depression and I am also getting help for it via some medication and therapy.  I am talking with friends and have found that this is SO MUCH more common than I ever knew.  In fact, when I told a friend that I worked with what was happening, her eyes began to tear and she said, “Could you please send me that test?  I think I’m having something happening to me too.”  I just hugged her as we both cried.  I am happy to say that she has begun seeking help since.

The BIGGEST part of my recovery is happening through my husband.  That man….I don’t have the words to describe what he has done for me and means to me.  We have suspended our D/s for now.  Although, as I just typed that, I’m not sure we have.  I am pulling myself back together within his strong and loving arms.  When I am frail and fragile, he is my safety and strength.  Every night, he tucks me into bed and rubs my feet until I fall off to sleep.  If I fall asleep on the first foot, he continues onto the second foot as I sleep.  If that isn’t Dominance and Absolute Love…nothing will EVER be.

If you find yourself feeling off, heavy, dark, foggy, distracted, disorganized, confused, overwhelmed, dazed, unfocused and/or sad, PLEASE GO FIND HELP!!  You are not weak because you reach out.  This wasn’t something I did or didn’t do.  It was an imbalance that I had no control over, but it COMPLETELY controlled me.  I never thought this would happen to me, but it did.  Now, I choose to take back my life and for the first time in over a year, I feel hopeful and happy, and it feels GOOD!!

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