My Daughter, My Little Gift

I have been trying for months to write a blog post about her.  Every time I try to type it out, I get lost in my thoughts and the words just do not come out.  So I am hoping I can write this one today for you all to read.  Here we go…

The conversation the other day went something like this, “Mommy, one day I will be a big girl and I will wear your high heels” and then, “Mommy, I just love your shoes and I want to wear them”.  These sentences came from my almost-four-year-old daughter.  I should say she is three going on thirteen the way she thinks sometimes.  She never ceases to amaze me. 

Sometimes the conversations with her are not so much fun though.  Sometimes, she asks pointed questions like a few weeks ago, “Daddy why won’t mommy get out of bed and play with me?” And to this, my husband gently answered, “Mommy is sick today and she needs to stay in bed and rest.”  Or every Sunday night when I fill up my pill jar for the coming week, “Mommy, what are these pills for and why do you take them?”  I do not want to keep her in the dark but I do not want to tell her too much to scare her so I simply state, “these pills keep Mommy healthy so that I am not sick”. 

My daughter is very intuitive and she asks very good questions.  She is always wondering about her surrounds and questioning the people she loves the most.  She does this in an effort to learn more about the world around her. 

I will admit though if you asked me if I was ever going to be a mom, I would have told you point blank, “no”.  My doctors always discouraged it because for so much of my life my mental health was not stable.  And quite frankly, I discouraged it for myself because I did not think it would be fair for a child to have me as their Mommy. 

But, the world had its own agenda and here I am with a three year old daughter.  While I cannot have any more children (unless we are lead to adopt which is not in the cards but is of course the only means in which to have another child), I am certainly grateful for my daughter.  When I go to pick her up at school after a long day at work and she runs over to me and says, “Mommy!  I had a thumbs-up kind of day!” my little heart melts and I feel so special and it makes the tougher times worthwhile. 

Last night I tucked her into bed and gave her a kiss on the cheek and a huge hug.  I left her room and closed her door gently.  The next minute, she came out her room, “MOMMY! I have to go potty!” So, I took her to the bathroom and tucked her back into her bed again.  Then the next minute, “MOMMY, I am thirsty!”  So I gave her a sip of water and put her back into her bed again.  One minute later, “MOMMY!” and I said, “WHAT HONEY?” in a stern voice and she looked up at me with those beautiful brown eyes and goes, “Mommy, I just wanted to tell you…that I love you.”  I picked her up and held her close to my body in the biggest hug I could muster up the energy for and I told her, “I love you too, Sweet Heart”.  And I tucked her into bed for the final time that night. 

Being a person who suffers from Bipolar Disorder does not define me.  It is an illness that I live with yet it does not make me who I am.  It is moments like last night that lift me up as a person and make me appreciate the little shining star that I have in my life.  It is nights like last night that reminds me why I am here on earth and why I get up and out of bed every morning.  It is times like last night that encourage me to put on my high heels every day, hold my head up high and say to myself, “You can do this”. 

Love Note:  With all my heart, I genuinely request that due to the content written, please seek the guidance of professional help should you feel you need it.

Post New Years Dilemma

For some reason the close of one year and the opening of a new year always seems to lead me down the road of depression.  New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day were spent with family this year at my mom’s house.  We ate a ton of food, drank lots of wine and played games like BananaGrams (but do not play my brother because he is bound to win every time)! 

 

But when I tell you that January 2^nd hit me like a ton of bricks, I am telling you it hit me hard.  Maybe it did not help that this year it fell on a Wednesday or “hump day” because it certainly felt like I had to crawl moment by moment over the hump of the day itself.  I could not get out of bed to save my life and when I finally did roll out of bed and get a shower, I did not get into work until 10:30am. 

 

I do not know what it is about a new year that bothers me so much.  Is it the letting go of the previous year?  Is it trying to look forward to another year ahead?  Maybe it is a little bit of both. 

 

Today I asked my husband his thoughts on my end of the year/new year depression.  He suggested that maybe it is because of all the hustle and bustle of the holidays with lots of family around.  When all that ends and all the presents are open, you are left with going back to work again and starting a new year.  (Not that work is a bad thing by any means but just that you try to go back to a state of normalcy).   

 

There is a kind of "high" with the holidays:  getting prepared, buying presents, seeing family, decorating the house.  Then there is Santa and my Elf on the Shelf (his name is "Strawberry" as so eloquently named by my daughter).  For my family, we live the furthest driving distance away from everyone so the central locations are my mom and grandmothers house so the holidays also bring a great deal of driving as well. 

But all that to say that there is excitement fueled by anticipation.  And all this leads to severe exhaustion come January 2^nd.  And for this whole week I have just been going through the motions wanting nothing more than to be in my pajamas and be in bed.

 

I do recognize that this level of depression comes every year at the same exact time.  And to some extent, I have come to accept it and ready myself for its arrival.  My therapist called me to check in yesterday and I told her I was “depressed but I recognized it and am working through it” and she said, “Stacy, I am so darn proud of you.”  It is as if she saw that I was struggling but at the same time, I noticed what I was going through.  I also put words to it (which is sometimes harder than not) and, I am doing something about it for example, listening to uplifting music, talking to my friends at work, communicating with my therapist and getting myself back into a workout routine.  This is what puts me on the path to recovery and this is what keeps me going through the rough times. 

You know what is really ironic?  This week, I have not worn high heels once.  So tomorrow, I put away the flats, I raise my chin up high and I put my high heeled shoes back on again.  Let's do this.  Let's do 2019 together. 

Love Note:  With all my heart, I genuinely request that due to the content written, please seek the guidance of professional help should you feel you need it.