The Midlife Reframe

Category: stigma

  • This Phase of Life is Stupid

    See that smile?

    I’m not smiling now. I’m awake and it’s 1:55 am.

    I went to sleep at 10:00 pm.

    Been awake for an hour. I am so tired, but I can’t sleep.

    Even as I am typing this, I am yawning.

    I remember being told 8 gazillion things about the upcoming changes in my life when I was in health class in elementary school.

    No one prepares you for the changes that come later in life.

    And your options are limited.

    I am starting to read The Menopause Manifesto by Dr. Jen Gunter, because I need some answers/guidance/relief.

    I’ve been reading Menopause/Perimenopause posts on Reddit.

    I’m commiserating with other women, and you know what?

    We’re all tired.

    This phase of life IS stupid.

    There needs to be more research…more doctors who do not say “Oh well, that’s the stage of life you’re in”.

    Because if men had to go through this, you bet the uproar would produce results.

    But instead, us “hormonal” women will continue to suffer…out loud…

    Screaming into the void.

  • Weighted

    I’ve gained weight. Gone up 4 sizes as a matter of fact.

    It’s happened over the past few years.

    As part of my journey to self acceptance, I’ve struggled with this extra weight on my body.

    Societal issues with body image has done a number on my head, and it hasn’t been easy accepting where I am at right now.

    Being gentle with myself isn’t easy. I am my own worst enemy when it comes to my body.

    Mentally, it’s even worse. Having been in an emotionally abusive long term relationship does a number on you. Seeing rolls meant I would come under fire. But being “skinny” meant I was also a target for other men’s attention. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Always under fire, always on alert.

    That has stuck with me for a very long time.

    I have been thankful lately to the body positivity movement for shifting the narrative.

    Shifting my narrative is going to take some time. Acknowledging that my body is a power house is my first step. I’ve harboured a human life in this body. I’ve run half marathons with this body. I am surviving a pandemic with this body. I will continue to do great things with this body, no matter what.

    Instead of trying to “get back to where I was”, I am working with what I have. I still run, I still workout. Instead of focusing on losing weight, I am focused on staying strong and healthy.

    Starting now, I am treating my body with kindness instead of disdain. It deserves kindness, and I deserve kindness, especially after all these years thinking I HAD to look a certain way to be accepted.

    I may not be a “perfect 10”, but goddammit I am a “perfect 14”.

  • Keeping it Real

    This is Mental Illness Awareness Week, and I decided that every day, on my personal Facebook page, I would write something about my experience with mental illness.

    I did my “hey this is what I am doing” post on Sunday night.

    I did “hey here are my meds” on Monday.

    Today (Tuesday), well today was a rough day. One of those “it hurts to move and I don’t want to face the world” kind of days.

    So, when I picked myself up out of bed I contemplated whether or not I would share it.

    It took me until I got on the bus to be able to form a post that expressed how my day was going to be.

    I don’t have these kind of days that often, now that I am medicated. But they still sneak in there.

    I had told myself long ago that if I was going to be open about my mental illness that I had to share the good and the bad.

    This felt/feels different. Sharing my experiences on my own personal Facebook page opens me up to everyone.

    Being vulnerable and having such an outpouring of support does make the fight a bit easier….until I dig deep and my brain says “Hey, nice going attention whore.” Then I want to crawl back into a hole and stay there forever.

    I have to remind myself that sharing the things I do is not an attention grab. I am sharing my journey, my good and my bad. Today was bad. Tomorrow may be a better day.

    I keep telling myself this: People won’t know how hard it is to fight a mental illness if you don’t keep it real.

    So, I’ll keep sharing. Sharing what is real in my life, and in my fight with a mental illness.

  • Waiting to Come Out On The Other Side

    I am into week 2 of the booster (Abilify) for my anti-depressants.

    It’s been a bit of ride, but not necessarily a bad one.

    The first week: I was restless and I couldn’t sit still. I am still a bit restless, bit that is starting to subside.

    I also found it hard to get to sleep the first week, but that has remedied itself as well.

    After my initial post about taking Abilify, I panicked. I was certain everyone would Google the drug and think “Wow, she’s psychotic too?”

    Let’s be clear: my brain had me convinced of this. It almost made me believe that people would avoid me, stop talking to me, and no longer want to be my friend.

    I remember the pharmacist telling me to just keep taking the dose, even if I didn’t think it was working, and that after 2-4 weeks I would start to see a difference.

    Am I noticing ANY difference?

    I am. Sort of. It’s little things, but: I am starting to notice a slow decrease in my itching (yay!).

    Being patient is hard, but I am doing my best to give this time.

    If it gets me to where I need to be, it will be worth it 🙂

    @crazymamaruns

  • I Was Afraid

    So let’s just dive in.

    One of the things that I am afraid of, when I go on my medication, is that I am going to “lose myself”.

    It’s part of how my brain tries to trick me into thinking I don’t need the medication.

    In the back of mind I KNOW it won’t turn me into someone else, but there is that part of me, of my brain, that grasps tightly onto self preservation.

    It has taken me years to become comfortable with who I am, and who I have become. I don’t want to lose that.

    Since I was self aware of my mental health and it’s decline this time, I had to keep telling myself that the medication will not change who I AM, it is changing the chemicals in my brain so I can be myself.

    There is still a chance that I will require something else for my anxiety, and I am okay with that. That component of my illness is still a tad ramped. If I need to have a combination of medication, then so be it.

    There is NOTHING shameful about needing medication. I cannot express that enough.

    I am making sure I move. I am making sure I have human contact (outside of work). I am taking time for me.

    I am still weird.

    I am still awkward.

    I am still wickedly awesome.

    Rock on my fellow weirdos.

    Rock on.

    @crazymamaruns

  • If It Makes You Happy

    Hanging With My Peeps

    Here we are.

    One month in.

    I had my check in today with my doctor. We had a good sit down, and even though the tides are slowly turning, there are still some issues. One being: my anxiety is being a jerkwad.

    I go back again in six weeks. We may have to supplement my current prescription if my anxiety doesn’t come down enough.

    This is really good news for me. Starting to feel better this early in the game is a good thing!

    Moving forward is important. Looking back (or too far forward) can be an unpleasant thing for me, so I am trying to focus on each day as it comes.

    Each day I try and start fresh. Sometimes it’s hard, and I try not to complain, but as a human I know I will. So I try to forgive myself.

    One thing I am trying to not do: crush things that make people happy. It serves no purpose to put down something that makes someone happy. I may not like the same things as others, but it doesn’t mean I have to rip someone/something apart because it’s not my thing (except draggy pants because that shit is wrong and not attractive so pull your pants UP! …and criminal activity – jail/prison = NO).

    So, you want to take 500 pictures of yourself with your tongue sticking out? Do it.

    You want to eat Cheez Whiz and (insert whatever here)? Do it.

    You love playing Pokemon Go? Do it.

    You love Crossfit and want to profess your love for it daily? Do it.

    A person’s happiness should not be driven by what everyone else likes.

    DO WHAT MAKES YOU HAPPY.

    [Like buying yet another Rae Dunn mug…even though you may have no room in your cupboards because it’s full of other Rae Dunn mugs 😀

    On that note, I better go find a spot for that new mug.]

    @crazymamaruns

  • On My Way

    Here we are: Week three on my meds, and now on vacation until after Canada Day Weekend.

    No more dizziness (YAY!), just some fatigue that will hopefully work itself out over the next little while.

    I am starting to become more present.

    There is less disassociation.

    I can see NOW that I really should have done this a while ago.

    Sometimes denial is a stronger drug. I don’t want my depression to consume my life. I want it to be anything BUT depression that is making me feel irritated, helpless, and useless.

    I know I have pushed a lot of people away inadvertently (and some on purpose, for my own mental health).

    I am thankful for those who stick around, even when I try to isolate myself, and to those who have kind words when I am not comfortable hearing them.

    Having someone be kind to me makes me nervous, and I will sometimes laugh or be sarcastic because I am uncomfortable. I don’t feel I deserve it.

    That’s what my brain does. It whispers: “You. Are. Not. Worthy. Of. Kindness.”

    I can make a list of things I have sabotaged because I was scared.

    But I can’t look back and brood. I need to unpack those “boxes” and move forward.

    I will slowly start getting back to the gym, and slowly get back to running.

    Each day is still unknown when it comes to my brain, but I’m on my way.

    @crazymamaruns

  • My Brain, The Jerk

    So, here we are.

    I am 5 days into my dosage upgrade.

    It’s been dizzy and sleepy.

    I can say now that those side effects are slowly retreating, and I am finding it a little easier to get out of bed in the morning.

    I am still chewing the sides of my fingernails, although not as much. Still gross.

    I am thankful for those people around me who have not treated me any different than before I announced I was back on medication to stop going down the rabbit hole (again).

    Saying, and acknowledging, that I need help is a very vulnerable moment.

    The days after that are hard. I feel defeated, and tired. The meds are working on my brain chemistry and I am trying to fight the lie machine that lives inside my head.

    It likes to tell me that I deserve to have people pull away. It reminds me of all the awful things that have happened in my life and tells me it was my fault. It will tell me that everyone is talking shit about me when I’m not around.

    I become even more guarded. I will push people away.

    I will doubt every decision. I will doubt my own capabilities.

    I will overdo things because I think I need to make up for my “deficiency”.

    I will be awkward.

    I will be full of insecurity.

    Knowing that I will get better is not always the ray of light it should be.

    Each day is tackled one at a time.

    I will get through this, even though my brain will tell me otherwise.

    This inner war is exhausting.

    I just need a little patience, and understanding.

    I am doing okay, and I will keep moving forward.

    You can go and suck it, jerk brain.

    @crazymamaruns

  • Upgrading My Toolbox (Because Suffering is NOT an Option For Me)

    Today I was able to see my doctor.

    I am very lucky, because I called this morning and got in this afternoon.

    I know I’ve been off kilter for quite some time now (months really) and I’ve been at the edge of the rabbit hole for about the same amount of time.

    I had been able to keep my head above water with running and meditation.

    My depression loves food, and sleep. Lots of food and lots of sleep. It is how it fuels the lie machine.

    I’ve been tired, I mean reaaaalllly tired, for a long time. I sleep a full 8-9ish hours every night.

    When the alarm clock goes off, I drag myself through molasses to get moving. Usually I can enjoy my bed coffee and then get moving.

    Lately it’s been bed coffee and I-want-to-go-back-to-sleep-for-another-eight-hours kind of morning. Every day. Even on the weekend.

    There was also my slow disassociation. I would hear myself talking and be like “Who is that talking? It can’t be me because she sounds like she has her shit together.”

    Please note: SHE DID NOT HAVE HER SHIT TOGETHER.

    This past week I could really notice how I was starting to slowly unravel on the inside. I can’t share it all, because it’s raw right now, and I need to let it be for now.

    But I can share that I had a few conversations with my mom on Saturday, and we drove by the doctor’s office so I could see who was in for the weekend clinic (thanks mom, love you!). Unfortunately it wasn’t my doctor, so I decided then that I would call on Wednesday to try and get an appointment.

    (I am so very lucky, soooooo lucky to have the family doctor I do. She rocks.)

    (Also, to acknowledge my slow brain drain: when I had a conversation with some people at lunch the other day, and then later…when I was on the bus with someone who was sitting RIGHT BESIDE ME during this conversation, I said “remind me to tell you…*insert things from lunch conversation here* that this person already heard because SHE WAS RIGHT BESIDE ME . Ugh.)

    So tomorrow, I start using my new (I’ve taken this medication before so it’s like an old new) tool.

    Living with a mental illness is not easy.

    It’s awful to think that there are people out there who are afraid to ask for help.

    I was once afraid to ask for help.

    I am not afraid anymore.

    Suffering (for me) is not an option.

    I am on my way feeling better.

    One day at a time.

  • It’s Not Always A Choice

    I wake up every day and check in with whatever emotion is at the top of the list.

    I acknowledge it.

    If I can, I ride it out. I am more willing nowadays to face what I am feeling and accept it.

    This doesn’t work for everyone, and I acknowledge that.

    I believe that accepting how I feel gives me the power to ride whatever wave comes at me.

    I can’t choose every day to be happy. My brain isn’t wired that way.

    I wanted to believe this very much after I was first diagnosed with depression. That I could choose my emotions each day. I drowned myself in motivational memes and quotes.

    It became exhausting, deciding/choosing to be happy, because I really wasn’t. I wanted to be. I just couldn’t force it. I couldn’t motivational quote/meme myself into happiness.

    I’ve been living with my diagnosis for almost 7 years now. Medicated twice.

    I’ve learned what works for me. This illness is a very individual thing. What works for one person may not work for another.

    I embrace my good days and ride out the bad.

    Find what works for you and embrace it. Know that it may not work for someone else.

    Support each other.

    Be kind.

    Realize it’s not always a choice, and that’s okay.

    @crazymamaruns