sad panda

That title makes me think of the kid’s show/movie, Kung Fu Panda, which we are big fans of in our house. Of all the kiddie shows out there, that one cracks me up and I love it even more than my offspring. Yes, we let our 3.5 year old watch that show. I know I know, we are so going to hell in a noodle cart.

But dang, this was not supposed to be a post about Po…ohhhh, that’s catchy isn’t it??? Hello DIGRESSION!! Stop the madness. Nice segue way though…

Usually I would post a cutesie photo, a passive aggressive quote, some sarcastic humor, or most likely nothing at all when I’m up at 2:22 am with a mild panic attack and would not even tell the internet that I in fact, am having a freak out session. Because lets face it, we just don’t talk about these things much here do we? Mental stuff I mean. And by “mental stuff” I mean depression, overwhelming feelings of sadness, unexplained tears, anger, etc. I will be honest and say that the reason I don’t usually write about it here is for a couple of reasons…1. I’m a bit ashamed and embarrassed that I struggle with those things. The stigma is real. And 2. my parents read this blog and I don’t want to worry them. But hear me now, I am a 36 year old woman and mother and I struggle with these things. And right now, at 2:26am,  I want to write about it. Sue me.

I’ve always had some mild depression/stress/anxiety, whatever you want to call it. I’ve seen the doctor about it, I take meds for it. Antidepressants to be specific. Generic Prozac to be even more so. It helps. Or did until lately. This last episode has been the longest and worst that I can remember.

Disclaimer: To be clear, I don’t walk around in a constant state of sobbing and woe-is-me and I think that is a misconception sometimes. Except for close friends (and now the entire internet, or whoever happens across this post), no one would know that I am fighting this. It is subtle, and dare I say, undetectable to the masses. Most of it happens inside my brain, in private. Usually.

But, back on track now…The trigger for the last several weeks’ issues is, as you probably guessed, my broken foot and not being able to run at all, much less in the 1/2 marathon I was so looking forward to doing with friends. I was, and am heartbroken. But at first I pulled it together and kept up with the stationary bike and eating semi ok. I wanted to maintain my fitness and weight until I could run again. Such a smart cookie am I, right? Until I crashed and burned in a fiery ball of anger, chocolate, disappointment and tears. For whatever reason, I completely lost all motivation and have not regained it as yet.

I have let it eat me up. Envy, jealousy, ill will. And like the sneaky monsters that those attributes are, they have now morphed into something much bigger. My sadness is no longer just about not being able to do a race. Now its about me and how I define myself as a person, my self worth. If I have let this minor thing get me so down in the dumps, what kind of a person am I? A very very weak one. One who eats an entire box of Little Debbie’s for supper and then looks in the mirror and berates herself for not being able to hold on, not being able to stick with anything, for being fat and ugly and worthless. Who am I to think that I can be a good mother? A good wife? A good friend? A good strong person in general? If this little itty bitty thing has consumed me so, who am I to think I can handle the bigger problems in life? Nobody, that’s who. I can’t.

Face it Finnley, if confronted with real problems (serious illness, loss, etc) you will not be one of those amazing people you hear about who dig deep and find magical inner strength from their own problems and experiences and use it to inspire others. You will wither and die inside from self pity and feeling-sorry-for-yourself-itis. And you hate yourself for knowing that.

…..See how this progresses and grows in my brain? From a disappointing, temporary, minor life event that was no one’s fault into a complete mental self bashing of who I am as a person. Its madness I tell you. And if you are reading this and are fighting it as well, no matter how poorly, as I am doing, I am giving you a big ol’ hug in my head right now. Its not a joke, its a serious thing and should be treated as such.

Whew, big sigh.

This was a deeply personal thing for me to write and share. But it is real and I am dealing with it right now. And by dealing with it I mean that I will be calling my doctor in the morning to discuss options. New meds, change in dosage, possibly talking to a professional, something is going to change. It has to because I am losing it here. Going crazy if you will. I take comfort in the saying that legit crazy people don’t realize that they are going crazy. Well hallelujah then and katie bar the door because that means I am safe! Hahaha, see y’all, I can still joke about this. Because I’m pretty sure laughter is some good medicine. Well, that plus Prozac. Oh, and Reeses Pieces, those are good meds too. And cake. Cake is awesome.

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