It is now 2011, March actually. The months have simultaneously flown by and dragged on endlessly. Winter is never a fun time for me, I am a summer baby, although I differ from a Seasonal Affective Disorder sufferer, I decrease my antidepressants during the fall and winter months. This isn't to say that I don't suffer from depression at all, quite the opposite.
There is so much to enjoy in winter: Christmas and its celebrations, New Years, hockey, and cozy nights in with the family. In that sense, my winter has been wonderful. I am enjoying living in this house, being near friends. Being stuck indoors, I have spent much time with my lovely daughter playing games, building lego, and using our new Wii game system. On the surface, I have nothing to complain about.
With depression, there is always a deeper level, one that belies that surface. This is where my mind spends most of its time. I go throughout the day focusing on the positive, and it works for the most part, but then something will happen that pulls the floor from beneath me and leaves me crying underground. Yesterday, it was running into an old friend, which sent me into a funk that I had built years climbing out of. Other days, it is my failing body. Sometimes it is something so trivial as an innocent comment that chips away the wall I use to hide my psyche.
Dealing with my infertility has been the most harmful to my daily fight against depression. Having my doctor tell me that I have no choice but to accept my fate and hope for the best was enough to send me over the edge, and my only saving grace was the beautiful child I do have, seemingly my "miracle baby." Since that visit months ago I have researched infertility, started charting to get to know my cycles, and even convinced a doctor that I need tests run. I am hoping this will give me some good results, something to work with.
Lately my self esteem has diminished even more. I have serious weight issues, which I know I need to work on, but I am waiting for my blood results to see if I need to modify my diet, and also to see if I will be able to get pregnant, in which case I will shelf my issues until it is safe for me to lose the pounds. I know longer care about my appearance. I was never one to obsess, I always chose comfort over beauty, but lately beauty isn't even an option. I will dress in whatever is clean, or even clean-ish. I don't pluck regularly anymore. I sit like a lump on the train among all these beautiful (or at least attempting to be) women who are probably married or close to it. But let's not go there.
One source of my self-loathing was an eyesore on my scalp, a cyst, which a surgeon determined to be a "fibrous tumor," whatever that means! I had this lump of skin behind my ear for the better part of a decade, and over the years it grew to something that was difficult to hide, and was a constant embarrassment. Two weeks ago, I went in for surgery and I am glad to say it is finally gone! I had the stitches removed today, and it is still healing. I can't wait to have a lovely little scar where once there was something so disgusting I opted to stay home much of the time.
I am slowly working on me, and right now I am pretty level as far as imbalances go. This is probably the best I can hope for, which really makes me sad. However, I am trying to keep a smile on my face, and crossing my fingers that next week will bring me some good news!
