A Little Help from My Friends
Dec. 1st, 2009 07:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sandmansisterFirst and foremost, thank you all for your words of support during my weeks of wibble. When I begin to doubt the Universe and my place in it, I have only to think of my Tribe to put things in perspective.
Now that I’ve had some chance to consider things more, I stand by my “Not OK” diagnosis. But I think—for myself and those who interact with me regularly—I need to clarify just a bit.
There’s depression, sure. But I’m (mostly) functional, which is why things are so tricky. I’m not so bad that I can’t get out of bed (OK, that’s never been easy for me; just go with it). I still have happy moments. The National Anthem gig at the Allen Americans game last Saturday was great, as was dinner afterwards. Lace time is always healing (mainly because laughter—much of it inappropriate— is plentiful).
If I were caught in a Tar Baby of Misery, I think I’d feel more entitled. Or at least it would make more sense. As it is, things are just a little off. That’s much harder for me to notice and deal with. And keep in mind that I’m talking about what my heart knows, not my brain. Rationally, I get that my responses are reasonable and expected. That doesn’t mean I’m emotionally smart enough to apply that to myself. (I’m working on it!)
It also helped to realize that one of the tamoxifen side effects is depression. (So is weight gain... and I’m here to tell you that in and of itself is depressing!) So there are definitely a number of factors at play, chemical and emotional.
Many of you have said, “Whatever you need.” Thank you. A thousand times, thank you. I just wish that wasn’t such a moving target! I go from wanting to be covered up by my nearest and dearest to wishing for a cabin for one in the woods somewhere far away.
I can say this much, though: I need you all. (Don’t I always? But now it’s more keenly felt.) Big gatherings feel intimidating right now. But small, spontaneous things? That’s of the good. And please don’t wait for me to be smart enough to set something up. I can’t. I’m just depressed enough that reaching out is hard—this is as close as I get. Help me get the ball rolling.
Going for dinner? Call me. Coffee date? Let me know. Wanna come watch movies? Drop a line. Holiday bake-a-thon? I might mix, blend, and/or whip. I can’t guarantee I will say yes, but the asking should help me feel more connected—especially because I can trust you all to get it if I say, “I just can’t.” But eventually, I will say yes. You can count on it.
And yes, I am writing my book. Right now most of it’s in my head (at least the bits I haven’t written here), but I am Having Thoughts. And I think I know the title: I’m Not OK (and That’s OK): Happy Endings Are Hard, Too.
As ever, I love you all. Wishing you peace, love, and the decadent confection of your choice.
Now that I’ve had some chance to consider things more, I stand by my “Not OK” diagnosis. But I think—for myself and those who interact with me regularly—I need to clarify just a bit.
There’s depression, sure. But I’m (mostly) functional, which is why things are so tricky. I’m not so bad that I can’t get out of bed (OK, that’s never been easy for me; just go with it). I still have happy moments. The National Anthem gig at the Allen Americans game last Saturday was great, as was dinner afterwards. Lace time is always healing (mainly because laughter—much of it inappropriate— is plentiful).
If I were caught in a Tar Baby of Misery, I think I’d feel more entitled. Or at least it would make more sense. As it is, things are just a little off. That’s much harder for me to notice and deal with. And keep in mind that I’m talking about what my heart knows, not my brain. Rationally, I get that my responses are reasonable and expected. That doesn’t mean I’m emotionally smart enough to apply that to myself. (I’m working on it!)
It also helped to realize that one of the tamoxifen side effects is depression. (So is weight gain... and I’m here to tell you that in and of itself is depressing!) So there are definitely a number of factors at play, chemical and emotional.
Many of you have said, “Whatever you need.” Thank you. A thousand times, thank you. I just wish that wasn’t such a moving target! I go from wanting to be covered up by my nearest and dearest to wishing for a cabin for one in the woods somewhere far away.
I can say this much, though: I need you all. (Don’t I always? But now it’s more keenly felt.) Big gatherings feel intimidating right now. But small, spontaneous things? That’s of the good. And please don’t wait for me to be smart enough to set something up. I can’t. I’m just depressed enough that reaching out is hard—this is as close as I get. Help me get the ball rolling.
Going for dinner? Call me. Coffee date? Let me know. Wanna come watch movies? Drop a line. Holiday bake-a-thon? I might mix, blend, and/or whip. I can’t guarantee I will say yes, but the asking should help me feel more connected—especially because I can trust you all to get it if I say, “I just can’t.” But eventually, I will say yes. You can count on it.
And yes, I am writing my book. Right now most of it’s in my head (at least the bits I haven’t written here), but I am Having Thoughts. And I think I know the title: I’m Not OK (and That’s OK): Happy Endings Are Hard, Too.
As ever, I love you all. Wishing you peace, love, and the decadent confection of your choice.
