What's it like? Dehydrated, Fight.

I can't remember if this picture help part of the inspiration for a short story I wrote for school or not... It may have been one element of several stitched together. Either way, I really love it, and could look at it for hours. I could sit and come up with a scenario or two as to what led these two to this point, and to be honest, I have, although not all of them are on paper. Its escapism, a distraction, and most certainly a form of self preservation- something I've been doing an awful lot of lately. 

I was supposed to have a craft post and in some respects I do. Or rather, it is coming. I wanted to try and focus on some happier shit, mostly in effort to not be so rawr and doom and gloom. I do have semi-productive and happy moments in my life. I will also have a wedding and honeymoon photo post- as soon as I edit what little we have. And I would like to do a full garden tour when it gets mostly finished as well as a house tour. The last two are going to be on going "works in progress", but I want t share some stuff.

But, the reason all of that is coming instead of here now, is that I continued to sink further in my depression. I probably should have gone to the hospital a couple of times, but I didn't and the reasons why are for Amanda and I to know. I probably should've called some friends, we live not far from a set, but I know how busy they are and two of my fears are dragging my friends down with me and exhausting them- thereby seeing them run for the hills/ dropping me- i.e. abandonment issue, and also I don't want to interrupt or be a burden or even worry people. Grandma told me a long time ago not to tell the truth when someone asked me how I am doing. People have their own stuff going on, their own problems, and they don't need anything extra from me, so when asked "how are you, just smile and say 'good' or 'fine', and then quickly ask how they are doing". Maybe it's a generational thing, a Midwest thing, or even a family thing, but from there on, I grew up with the idea that people didn't really care even if I did. That it was small talk and more polite and helpful to listen and help other people and not expect the same in return. Because we gotta do it all ourselves... which kind of lead into if you're not productive you aren't worth anything to anyone and you should be ashamed to be seen in public idea I somehow equated.  And also, your needs come after everyone else. Not that the latter really bothers me most of the time, I often volunteer without a care or a thought of me other than I genuinely want to. Except I can't do it as much and because of that, I feel that sense of worthlessness... 

But, I finally broke down and messaged a few close friends. I talked to a couple as well. Amanda didn't think people understood how bad it has gotten and knowing how much of a told my struggle is taking on her, I thought I had better suck it up and ask for help before I destroy her right along with me. 

Laying out as much as I could felt wrong, made me feel crazy, unstable, and disgusting. It felt like someone dragging a steak knife hard and slow over my nerves and even a layer of skin was being removed. My friends were kind and caring and asked me to let them know what I needed. I don't know. I don't know what I need. I'm seeing a therapist who is doing DBT and going to try another type of therapy to see if we can't take some of the intensity of things away. I'm taking depression meds. I'm making sure to do some things that I enjoy as some self care. I am playing with the cats and I am trying to make sure I get out of the house even though right now it scares the hell out of me to do so. 

Shortly after I reached out for help from my friends, I had to change providers for my health insurance so I could keep my therapist, and since Amanda and I got married, I also had to report a change in household. In doing so, they deemed me, us, ineligible for state health care. That would be fine if it were just a matter of me be going to the doctor every six months to do a med check and the once or twice a year I get sick. But I really need the therapy. Thankfully, I have an amazing therapist who went over some options of what we could do in case- when I reapply- I still can't get insured. There's some financial questions I may or may not have gotten right when I did the household stuff, so I am going to do it again, with Amanda, and see what happens. If we can't get state insurance, there are some lower cost plan options that might work, it just depends on how they are structured. 

However, it was the thought of money the night prior and the day of visiting DSHS that really made me sink deeper. The people at DSHS were very unhelpful. In fact, a woman I spoke with, in front of her coworker, the security guard, and Amanda and her mother, told me to get a divorce, my marriage annulled, or lie because the government doesn't know. I was so shocked and angry, I could hardly stand it. She was telling me to commit fraud. WTF?!  And then they kept us for two hours under the guise of "let's help you do food stamps" to give us 15 bucks a month. Um, thank you? Amanda's Mom was pissed. She said it was an insult. Be that as it may, it's 15 dollars of me being able to get sunbutter for sandwiches and fruit and veggies I want to eat. No, not a lot, but it gives me a tiny sliver of control back.  

Amanda and I got into a fight a couple of days ago. All of this stuff has been piling up. We're both tired and spread thin. Neither of us has been sleeping well. I've was suffering from heat sickness, Amanda thinks I was dealing with full on heat stroke, before we got the air conditioner in the window. Add in the fact that both of us are kind of shit at communication, and we had a small blow out. Since we had been out, I wouldn't let her go inside the house when we got home until we'd talked, more for privacy's sake than anything. That and I won't let her run away from something until I feel that we are at least okay, else it bothers me until I am physically ill. Apologies were given and I don't know if we are going to be any better at communicating, we've been working on it for 10 years and will probably still be working on it in another 10 years. But we are okay, at least it seems like it. 

A lot of it is that I don't like seeing how tried she is. I know living and taking care of someone with depression is difficult and draining. My parents both have severe depression on top of my mom's health problems. Knowing that there is a potential for an extra drain on her, in the financial area, really upsets me. Because I'm being honest with her and she wants me to tell her what I am thinking and how I feel so she can help or get me to someone who can where she can't, I told her that I'd had a thought of off I could alleviate someone of it for both of us, I'd tell her to donate my body to science so she wouldn't have funeral costs, and go step off a bridge over the highway. And that's just one of many planned outs, but I know it will upset my friends, and hurt my Grandparents, and devastate my parents and Amanda. I don't want to bring that much hurt to people I care about.  

But those are the thoughts and the brief picture view of how bad things have gotten. Still, I'm trying to remind myself that I know that its the depression monster. I know that people do care. I need to (begrudgingly) remind myself that I am only human. The good news is that I do realize all of these things and while that doesn't cure it, it helps to help me get to the step back place so I can look at the mess and figure out how to make it manageable. Sometimes I wonder what it's like to live without depression. I know everyone experiences some depression, you can't grow without suffering, but to be a quote "normal" person... I can't fathom it. 

The other good news is that in my escapism, I started reading again and a friends reintroduced me to some dating sim games. They are weird and I certainly didn't expect to get to drawn in. I have several that I'm playing and they have really interesting story lines. In one of them I'm worried that my character married the bad guy and its kind of upsetting. I keep hoping that he's really not, or that there's something he hasn't said or revealed about the other characters. And I have helped out two friends who recently bought a bakery. I was able to sit and make cake pops one evening and then I told them to send me home with labels and the little bags that go over the cake pops so when I watch TV, I can help them out too. I got the first batch finished and asked one of the girls to bring over some more and take what I had done for them when she comes over tonight. 

Lastly, I managed in all of the pre-airconditioner days and doing some yard work and grocery shopping and going through things for the garage sale, to not keep up with my water tracker... So, I dehydrated myself to the point of bad stomach issues. I realized it yesterday and have since been working to correct it, but I am still having some stomach trouble. It probably doesn't help that despite us sleeping in the living room where the air conditioner fits and is, I haven't been sleeping very well. I mean I'm getting more than I have been, but I'm wondering if I've been trying to knock myself into a manic mode. It might be time to try the melatonin for a week again, just to get me back on routine.