And ever since I have been battling depression. Well, if I am honest, it has probably been a lot longer. I was just too busy taking care of him to notice.
It's a horrible disease that parlayed him, left him unable to talk, feed himself, and eventually he got FTL dementia which sometimes comes along with ALS.
I am going to write his story. And I guess it is also kind of my story too.
Depression is a weird thing.
I didn't even realize I was dealing with it until I realized I hadn't pulled out my sewing machine for about two months.
And I really hadn't done any other crafts either.
Plus, I stopped running, walking my dogs, and having the motivation to do much of anything.
And then it was like a light bulb moment.
I realize that some of it might be grieving, but that it might be depression too.
I have dealt with anxiety for about twenty years, but never depressed.
When I was eighteen, I started having panic attacks and anxiety. Thankfully though it wasn't something I dealt with on a daily basis. It happened just once in a while but I still hated dealing with it.
Panic attacks are horrible. They are exhausting. And they leave you worried about having another one.
I think (for me) the reason why it never got worse is because I didn't let it stop me.
If I had a panic attack or anxiety while driving I would go home. But then I would get out the very next day and take the same route.
I had one while at the mall and instead of staying away from there I went back the next day.
For me it was like conquering a fear. Fearing that it would happen again and still doing it.
Sometimes it took a couple times. But eventually I would be able to drive that same route and not even remember the panic attack that took place weeks ago.
But depression is different.
It's literally like a weight pulling you down. And down. And down.
Like something is weighing on your body that make you feel like you can't get up.
It is hard to explain (for me anyways) exactly what I am feeling.
Mostly it is just a lack of motivation.
I want to blog. I want to run around the neighborhood. I want to go to the Y. I want to sew, paint, and crochet.
But when it actually comes down to it it seems like such a chore.
A chore to pull out my sewing machine. I chore to put my shoes on and go run around the block.
Thankfully, when it comes to my son or husband, I am fine with doing things. I don't mind cooking dinner, taking Ryan swimming, or whatever the case may be.
And I think that that might be because I would hate for this to affect them.
And I also think that they help pull me out of it some days.
Yes, my dad died. And it sucked.
But I still have so much to live for.
And I know that.
And over the last couple weeks I have found that the more I do the better I feel.
I might not want to go to the Y, sew, or run around the block.
But once I do it, I am happy. I feel like it has been a good day. A successful day that I can be proud of.
The last week has been one of my best weeks yet.
I made a bank for traveling, a ribbon flag, a table runner, went to the Y, and ran around the block.
I am focusing on this blog again and am planning on posting two-three times a week. I also will be posting pictures and tutorials for the travel bank and ribbon flag.
I feel like I need to fight this the same way I did with anxiety. I need to face it head on. Take it day by day and do the things that might seem like chores because sooner or later they won't seem like chores anymore.
I don't know why my dad got sick and I am not even really sure I care to know. All I know is that he did get sick and that it was the hardest two years of my life.
Nothing up until that point had put my trust in God to the test. Of course I would have bad days, but that is something that just comes along with life.
But I never had anything that made me say, 'Okay, do you really believe in him?' And that answer was yes.
That my faith was strong enough to get me through this. Well, as long as I put all of my trust in God.
People would tell me to take it a day at a time. There were some days that I literally had to take it morning and afternoon. Hour by hour. Minute by minute.
And that is what I am doing now.
I will not let depression win this fight. Sickness took my dad, but depression will not take me.
Some days I might have to crawl out of bed. Some days I might have to force myself to look at the good in the world.
But everyday I will fight.
For my son, husband, dad, God, and for me.