What's a girl to do when her darling husband can't/won't/doesn't get out of bed all day? What's a girl to do when she has to be to work at 8 but all she can think is, "But if I leave that early, how can I be sure that he's going to go to work today?" What's a girl to do when her husband is adjusting to new medication, has a love/hate relationship with his job, and seems to think that using drugs will somehow "help him feel better?"
Luckily, my hubs, let's call him Jim, has agreed to forgo his "natural" cure for depression, c@nn@bis, until we at least try to adjust his traditional medication of anti-depressants. I just can't wrap my head around the idea of medical m@riju@n@ for anything besides cancer patients. It is apparently gaining credibility and use in California, but I'm reluctant to jump on the weed wagon until I've seen some cold, hard, research-proven facts. (But alternatively, it is a natural substance, that has been used for over a hundred years for the treatment of melancholia aka depression... who's to say that man-made brain altering chemicals are better for you than found in nature brain altering chemicals?)
It is pretty hard to see him so depressed that he can't get out of bed, when I know that one tiny dose of c@nn@bis will help him feel functional, happy, appropriately emotional and not at all "buzzed" or high (according to him.)
What's a girl to do when it's time to leave work for the day, but she doesn't want to go home?
I love my husband and I truly believe that we'll be able to move past this dark patch of life but some days I feel utterly alone and that my strength is waning. I know that Jim wants to get better and in some of his better days he has articulated to me that he is sorry for the pain and sorrow he causes me. (Note: He just called me in tears, saying "I'm sorry," over and over. It's heartbreaking the pain he's in and the guilt he feels for putting me through this hell with him.) I don't blame him AT ALL. I know that depression is a disease and that treating it is often a lifelong struggle. I also knew what I was getting myself into when we got married. But...
there are days when I want to run away.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Well, now that I know you all...
I have just spent the last two hours reading all your past posts. Now I feel like I've actually met all my neighbors. Man, you guys are like me! You have crappy stuff going on in your life, mixed in with wonderful stuff going on, and most of the time you courageously suck it up. You enjoy the good and try to survive the bad, meanwhile not inconveniencing anyone in the process. I am so glad that in this beautiful apartment building, we can all let IT out and it's okay.
Whew.
Where do I begin?
First of all, it's scary (as some of you have already mentioned), to write IT down where people can read IT. Turns out it doesn't matter what IT is, or who PEOPLE are, it's still scary and hard. It feels good and cathartic in one moment and crappy, ungrateful, and embarrassing the next.
I am a person who cares what others think of her. Perhaps too much. I care so very much that I tend to keep all my problems to myself, which is wearing me out. When I do find the courage to share, I always tell a sanitized, edited version of the truth. I'm worried that I'll be judged for IT or that IT will always be in the back of people's minds when they think of me.
ARGH. I wish I could move past this part of myself. Maybe that's what this pink apartment will do for me. It will help me to not care what other people think of me so much.
Except it's still there a little bit. Because even though you don't know "me", you still know Constance #25, and that's still a part of me. So basically, I hope to find an encouraging and friendly place here (which I know I will, having read so many of your supportive comments to each other already.)
Whew.
Where do I begin?
First of all, it's scary (as some of you have already mentioned), to write IT down where people can read IT. Turns out it doesn't matter what IT is, or who PEOPLE are, it's still scary and hard. It feels good and cathartic in one moment and crappy, ungrateful, and embarrassing the next.
I am a person who cares what others think of her. Perhaps too much. I care so very much that I tend to keep all my problems to myself, which is wearing me out. When I do find the courage to share, I always tell a sanitized, edited version of the truth. I'm worried that I'll be judged for IT or that IT will always be in the back of people's minds when they think of me.
ARGH. I wish I could move past this part of myself. Maybe that's what this pink apartment will do for me. It will help me to not care what other people think of me so much.
Except it's still there a little bit. Because even though you don't know "me", you still know Constance #25, and that's still a part of me. So basically, I hope to find an encouraging and friendly place here (which I know I will, having read so many of your supportive comments to each other already.)
Candid Constance, finally!
I'm so grateful to Constance the first for instigating this wonderfully cathartic "Constance Co-op." I can truly spill my innermost fears, secrets, concerns, annoyances, insecurities and maybe even joy without the accountability and repercussions that come from such candor in my other blog or my non-blog life.
Some issues in my life recently have me crying out for guidance and support or even just the relief of confessing what I've kept so private.
I look forward to sharing with you, my Constance sisters, my neighbors in the secret, pink apartment building in the city.
Some issues in my life recently have me crying out for guidance and support or even just the relief of confessing what I've kept so private.
I look forward to sharing with you, my Constance sisters, my neighbors in the secret, pink apartment building in the city.
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