depression – Sconnie Molly

Not too late for a 2022 recap, is it?

Hey, friend.

I missed the 2022 Nagappala Book Awards (NBAs) and I don’t have the energy to do it now. You can haunt my Goodreads if you’re really starving for my book opinions.

We can do a quick 2022 rundown though, I guess.

I didn’t travel as much in 2022 as I would’ve liked, for all the obvious reasons: it’s challenging to travel with a 2 year old, everything is wildly expensive, work schedules, and did I mention it’s really fucking challenging to travel with a 2 year old. We did have about 5 days in Boston in the spring for a family wedding, which was fantastic because V also has family in that area, so we both got to see cousins we love. But parenting in a different environment is not actually a vacation.

To scratch that itch as best we could, we continued our tradition of taking “solo weekends” – where one of us goes away for a few days, decompressing and doing whatever the fuck we want, and the other gets 1-on-1 time with Ashwin. If it’s feasible for you, as a parent, I cannot recommend doing this any more strongly. I have tended to stick pretty close to home for my trips, to maximize the relaxation and fun and minimize the tedious travel time, but I might branch out in 2023.

In 2023, V and I will have been married for 10 years and together for 15 (!). For a long time I’ve said I wanted to do a big trip for this anniversary and so we are, in early March, to a very warm and lovely place we’ve never been. Of course, this is only possible because my parents so generously agreed to take Ashwin off our hands for a week. I am honestly not trying to humble brag – I’m just endlessly, endlessly grateful for my mom and dad. I do not take them for granted.

I guess if 2022 had a theme, for me it might well be gratitude. All sorts of not-great things happened this year; I cried, argued, maybe slammed a door or two, rescheduled therapy appointments way too many times, definitely made far too many trips to Starbucks for strawberry acai lemonades, despite buying the ingredients to attempt making it at home (whoops, never did). Loved ones got covid (though thankfully all mostly recovered), the ex-president still isn’t in jail, and Ron Johnson still represents me in the Senate. But nothing truly calamitous happened and for that I can’t be anything but thankful.

I didn’t see my friends often enough, but I’d like to think we made it count when we did.

I’ve loved my new job. The only thing I don’t like about it is it leaves me pretty much no time to write and/or pitch – which I knew would happen, and it’s fine, but I do miss it. I suppose I still have this good ol’ blog that 5 people read, maybe that’s enough of an outlet.

I did some personal healing that was a long, long time coming and I’m now a lot more at peace because of it. Shan’t get into the gory details, but maybe 2023 is the year you confront your trauma? It’s better on the other side, I promise.

Even with the daily grind and stressors that life brings – parenting, household management, marriage, friendships, family, self-care, career – I’ve found myself feeling…pretty good. So much so that I’ve been considering a sloooow taper off of my meds. Longtime friends/readers may remember that I tried this in 2015, as I started trying to conceive, and it did.not.go.well to put it mildly. As scary as that prospect is, I want to try again, because minus that ~6 month experiment, I’ve been on some type of antidepressant/anti-anxiety medication my entire adult life. I think I’m more stable than I was in 2015 and I really want to see if I can do it. If I can’t cope, I can’t cope, and I’ll go back on them without an ounce of shame. I’m mostly including this here because if I do end up tapering, I may track it somewhat here on the blog. Would that actually be interesting to anyone? Unlikely! But that’s not why I write here, really, though I hope it’s at least mildly entertaining for whomever stops by.

What I’m Reading

I just started Screaming on the Inside, one in a new-ish genre of “hey, modern motherhood is kind of a fucking shitshow?” A lot of women are writing about that right now and I’d certainly like to be one of them.

What I’m Watching

After a very, very long period of refusal, I’ve started watching the most recent season of Stranger Things with V. I don’t exactly remember why I tried to boycott; I think at the time it premiered, a school shooting had just happened and I couldn’t deal with violence of any kind. Still don’t love it, but am looking away when I need to. I’d rather be watching Bridgerton, tbh. (Kind of joking kind of not?)

What I’m Looking Forward To

Uh, most definitely our vacation in March. Only 51 days to go!! (I have a countdown app, of course)

What I’m Fuming About

This fucking idiot.

Missing the small stakes

I ended my social media sabbatical after about a week, but I’m still actively avoiding the news and depressing media of all sorts. We saw Hannah Gadsby two nights ago and I gotta say, it wasn’t that great, but I don’t know if it’s her or me. I have trouble laughing at the “everything has gone to shit” genre of jokes, even though I sometimes make them myself. The apocalypse is nigh, hahaha. The world is a dumpster fire, hahaha. All that goes through my head is that auto-tuned Madonna refrain from “Sorry“…”I’ve heard it all before, I’ve heard it all before, I’ve heard it all before.”

*me + jen + this album in 2005-06 = thick as thieves*

Like…I 1000% understand joking to cope with hard things. It’s what I did with our ~*infertility journey~* (Jesus Christ is there another way to name the 5 years I tried unsuccessfully to get pregnant? because that phrase is the woooorst) and what I still sometimes do with depression. So I absolutely get the impulse. But if that’s all we’re doing, how is any of this supposed to get better? At some point, don’t we have to move past the jokes and get to actual concrete strategies?

How is any parent supposed to be okay? How are we supposed to drop our children off at daycare and elementary school and middle school and high school and just…leave? I’d feel that way a little bit even if there was no such thing as mass shootings. But reading the emergency protocol for “intruders” in your 2 year old’s daycare really ratchets things up, and by “things” I mean the knot in my stomach.

He’s two. He’s TWO. He’s growing in every way every day and it’s so amazing to watch. I know he needs to be among his peers, and I do think daycare will really be good for him. The thing about mass shootings is that they are terrorism – the goal, outside of killing whomever is on that shooter’s particular menu, is to terrorize. I know intellectually that the probability of some psycho shooting up my son’s daycare is truly incredibly small. But it could happen, and I know that because I’ve seen it happen, so I can’t stop visualizing it as though it will happen. The terrorists have won, in my mind anyway.

What are my options? Keep my son in daycare as planned, tolerate the massive increase in daily anxiety, and just pray for the best? Keep him home, likely stunting his social and mental growth, until…college? Uproot us all and move to another country where this shit doesn’t happen and literally no one has to worry about it, but where I’ll know no one and probably not speak the language or be able to get a job?

I don’t know how every single person in this country isn’t straight up immobilized by grief on a daily basis.

***

I got rejected from another job today. A state job, but a communications position that I genuinely thought I’d be good at. I know that the answer here is perseverance. Michael Jordan got cut from his junior high basketball team, etc etc etc. But let’s just acknowledge that perseverance is very, very hard, yeah? By definition, obviously, it takes a toll. Rejections take a toll, especially when you don’t really know what you’re doing wrong. Maybe you’re not doing anything wrong – there are a million reasons why you might not get hired for any particular position that have nothing to do with your qualifications or resume. But maybe you are…

***

What I’m Reading

Primarily “Beautiful World, Where Are You” by Sally Rooney, though I’ve got a few books going on right now. I liked Sally Rooney’s previous books; the very specific (yet universal-feeling) world of Irish millennials loving and leaving one another while musing about capitalism, religion, and politics just does it for me, I guess. This one seems slower, less “plot-focused” – which is to say, not much is actually happening – than the others but I’m still enjoying it.

What I’m Watching

The Bear, and season 2 of Only Murders in the Building, both on Hulu. Re: the latter, You really can’t go wrong with Steve Martin and Martin Short. As for the former, it’s unlike any other show I’ve seen somehow. Compelling as fuck, but also borderline breaking my “no depressing media” rule. OMITB is my current palate cleanser, I guess.

We’re also watching Ms. Marvel, of course, and the South Asian representation is so exciting. I’ve *never* seen Partition depicted or even discussed in American TV or movies – so many people don’t even know it happened – and that was really powerful. It’s a superhero show, obviously, so it’s not exactly the Indian-American sitcom of my dreams…but Never Have I Ever still exists, after all (and is returning in August)!

What I’m Looking Forward To

Visiting our Lacrosse besties in a week and a half. Mulaney, still. Fall.

What I’m Fuming About

I got pulled over while driving home from Milwaukee about a month ago. I had been going ~12mph over the limit, but the cop actually wanted to ticket me for non-registration. Turns out our tags had expired, um…10 months ago? Oops? So whatever, you got me, Jefferson County. I paid the ticket. Today I get a letter in the mail informing me that I still owe the County of Jefferson $2.00. The ticket had been for $175.30, and for some reason I wrote my check (YES, a PAPER CHECK, because the county charges you exorbitant fees to pay online) for $173.30. So now I have to write them another goddamn check, for 2 goddamn dollars, and I am just salty about it.

Depression, but with memes!!

Something has changed in the last few weeks and I don’t really know what to think.

I’m…happy? But also VERY wary of happiness??

I’m eating well: tons of fruit, veggies, lean protein. I’m exercising, like, almost every fucking day whether it’s the circuit training I do at Orange Shoe or the walks I take with Ashwin. Sometimes I take two walks a day. I’m finally losing weight, little by little. I’m writing! I started a freelance writing course that I’m so far really loving and I published my first piece on Medium yesterday and as listicles go – true, they are kind of the dregs of the internet – I’m rather proud of it. I’m sleeping well. My skin is (mostly) clear. I have *energy*, which is the strangest feeling of all. (I still often nap when Ashwin naps, but not every day, and they aren’t depression naps!) I’m reading. I’m having fun with my son. I’m staying cleansed, exfoliated, and hydrated AF.

I don’t know if it’s superstition, cynicism, or your garden variety anxiety disorder, but when things are going this well, I feel very very nervous. Something is about to go terribly wrong. In therapy (I will never not want to make fun of myself after beginning a sentence like that) I’ve learned that anxiety is my lizard brain trying to protect me and keep me safe from danger. But there are really no predators to watch out for in the United States, circa 2021 (unless you count the unvaccinated! or the mass shooters! or the alligators! or the rapidly deteriorating planet!…) so my brain I guess has to come up with other threats to occupy itself. As it just did, without breaking a sweat.

*just gonna pretend this isn’t from LOTR*

Maybe part of it is just feeling weird about being 35 and approaching ~middle age~. I don’t want to get old. I mean, it’s always annoyed the shit out of me when people complain about aging – I always say “it’s better than the alternative!!” which is a glib way of saying “be happy you’re not dead”. I had a dream – nightmare, I guess – the other night that I was on a sinking ship and everyone was screaming and I was thinking “oh God this is really it oh my God I’m going to die this is actually going to happen what is going to happen what’s it going to feel like when will things just go black and how fucking terrifying is that”…and then I realized, as my head was underwater for a few seconds, that I hadn’t actually tried to swim. I brought my head up above water, breathed, and that’s when I woke up. Is there something profound there? Maybe. I don’t know.

I just don’t want to spend so much of my life worrying about death. That’s it. That’s probably the most intimate thing I’ve ever written here; I don’t like to talk about it OR write about it. But writing helps sometimes! So let’s give it a shot. Bow out now if you don’t want to hear about my history of death anxiety!!

When I was in elementary school, my parents went away for a weekend once and I stayed at my best friend’s house for a few days. We usually watched the TGIF lineup, but maybe it wasn’t Friday, because we watched Touched by an Angel instead. Remember that show? This episode’s premise was basically the storyline of that song “Last Kiss” by Pearl Jam – the song that made me a passionate hater of the band until I met V. (I’m still not, like, a fan but they’re okay. The song still isn’t.) It’s about some high school sweethearts who get into a car accident and the girl dies. Rock n roll!!! Anyway – I was traumatized by it. My parents spent so much time and energy sheltering me from “bad” TV and movies and music, and the thing that damaged me the most was this episode of Touched by a fucking Angel. I didn’t want to let my parents out of my sight for months. I wanted to go on every errand, every trip, because they wouldn’t get into an accident if I was there (so my thinking went).

Eventually I got over it – I guess just by becoming a teenager and all the self-absorption that comes along with that. And then for years and years I’d almost never think about death. It didn’t come up. I was lucky. In 2011-2012, we lost several family members in quick succession and while that was incredibly shitty and sad and depressing, it didn’t spur a return of my own specific death anxiety. Then in 2015, V and I started trying to conceive, and I gradually went off all of my depression and anxiety medications, which turned out to be a horrific mistake. I spent most of that summer crying. There were multiple days I left work early feigning illness after crying in the bathroom and then cried some more on the bus going home. Death was suddenly all I could think about. And I mean ALL. By the fall, I was back on the meds and slowly getting better. But it’s never completely gone away since then. I’m working on it in therapy.

Oof, that was a lot. And there’s oh so much more where that came from, but that’s for me and Dr. Sarah Byer to sort through. I guess I just wrote all this to…put it in perspective? I don’t know. Maybe I’ll write more about it some other time, or maybe I won’t. I don’t know if anyone relates or is at all interested.

Also: if you ever try to talk to me about any of this, I will change the subject to the Packers or my cat or something.

What I’m Reading:

I just finished Ace of Spades, which was described in reviews as “Get Out meets Gossip Girl”, which pretty much sold me, and that is accurate! It was good, entertaining, didn’t demand much from me.

What I’m Watching:

V and I have finished our Sex and the City rewatch but have yet to tackle the two movies. We’ve now begun a Veep rewatch. We binged the second season of Never Have I Ever in like two days, it was so so so good. Maitreyi Ramakrishnan FOREVER.

What I’m Listening to:

Still a lot of Olivia Rodrigo, but also a lot of random ’90s.

What I’m Looking Forward to:

Traveling to Detroit this week to visit family and show off this guy: