Totally random introduction, because starting these entries are always the hardest part. Now with that out of the way, onto the actual entry:
January 6th. my body and other accessories finally gave up and I experienced that dreadful, but all to common feeling of collapsing onto the couch and cried until my eyes hurt. My husband put his foot down and demanded action be taken, so I called in sick the next day and spent the rest of the day coming to terms with the fact, that I had stress.
I always saw stress as a bad excuse for people, who should another job, better suited for their delicate, pansy ass mentalities. Turns out, stress usually only affects people, who have very strong mentalities: They only spread themselves out too thin and end up having breakdowns. Which I did. And I tried to do the right thing: I made doctor's appointments, found a psychiatrist, did pills. I even had meetings with my managers, so I could come back to work on reduced hours. All I needed was a final schedule from them.
I got a written termination by mail instead. Cue depression.
Funny how your entire self-esteem can be based on how well you think other people think about you. And funny how it takes hitting rock bottom, before you admit that you need help.
9 months later, and with the help of my husband, my doctor's apprentice, my psychiatrist, the best self help-guy in the world and a caseworker, who went above and beyond for me, I now feel better that I ever have. As anyone with depression knows, I will never be completely 'well', but I now have the mentality and tools to keep myself from falling into that hole again. I'm still between jobs, but I don't care for the moment. I'm happy, my husband is happy and my kid is happy.
I never used to have the self-esteem to be a part of groups like DeviantArt, other than a creepy-stalker type, who sits in the corner and watches. Now I feel comfortable enough to admit, that I actually like being the creepy-stalker type X-)
I can now wonder why I ever acted like a confident woman, when in reality I was just a lonely little girl who desperately needed attention. From anyone. It's so wonderful to finally be able to actually feel what I've been pretending to feel for all those years.
I recently turned 31, and it made me realize that I am now too old to have to pretend that I'm anything I'm not. I don't have to like a certain band in order to keep my 'nerd-cred'. I don't have to look a certain way to be sufficiently geeky. Hell, I don't even have to be polite, when I really, really don't agree with someone!
I weigh over 200 lbs, but my husband and I have the best sex in the world. I like Metallica, Eminem and Disturbed, but I also have Doris Day, Bruno Mars and classical music on my Ipod. My fantasy men are mostly burly and muscular, but I'm married to a semi-husky hunk who is the love of my life. And I think Adam Lambert is a very pretty man. Oh, and even though I don't like his music, I think people should get of Justin Biebers case, 'cause he's actually pretty popular with some people!
So don't mind me sitting in the corner, smiling at all you young folk: I'm just quietly contemplating old age and how to keep you of my lawn