Fog of Depression
During March, I had blog posts pending my planning and goal tools for individuals with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) and ADHD, Inattentive, formally ADD. The month started in the typical Iowa fashion, cold weather, hibernating in the house, and usually counting down the day to my birthday bash. I was struck down with a cold, full-blown fever, body aches, and sore throat. I spent as much of my time curled up on the couch, living off of crackers and lemonade. The boys would get home from school, and I would push them to play and entertain their sister while I fell back into my blanket coma. After a few days, when I was over the hump and was able to stay vertical for a few hours, I had to tackle the house. With thin patience and lingering ickiness, I was bombarded by “the house” with a rambunctious three-year-old sharing her excitement for the world with me. (So energy vampire, no, I joke.) There was stuff everywhere, cooked food left out, uncooked food left out, dirty dishes hidden in the pantry, dirty dishes filling the dishwasher, filling the sink. Everywhere I turned, any chore that the boys had been responsible for in the last three days had not been taken care of. The bathroom had a strange mixture of clean clothes, dirty clothes, and a load of clothes left in the washing machine. (Which usually comes with a funky smell within a few days.) I was the bumblebee cleaner, grabbing dirty socks from the living room, taking them to the bathroom and seeing the bathroom mess, restarting the washing machine, and cleaning out the dryer, grabbing spoons from the bathroom (yes, spoons in the bathroom. WHY!) and taking them to the kitchen, walking into something sticky on floor noticing its in desperate need of a cleaning. Back to the bathroom from the broom and mop. Around the house, around the house. After finally hitting my peak of annoyance and energy level, the house was still not up to my subpar level of cleanliness. A few days later and finally felt back to normal. It was time to deep clean the house, so I did. I was cleaning the carpets and wiping down the walls. When I finished, I still didn’t feel settled. I was chatting to a good friend of mine later in the day, just telling our weekly stories of life, and I kept saying after my cold, I just haven’t felt ok. Maybe I was feeling cabin fever or a bum for not leaving the house in a few weeks. I realized months ago I broke a few nails, so I decided to take my nails off for a new set. Then I never went; I didn’t feel emotionally able to go or feel like there was any time. I realized it had been almost four months. Now, any reader can think, “Oh no, not the fake nails; how does she live?” However, those who know me know I have gotten my nails done with acrylic or dip every month, 24/7 since I was 17. Between anxiety and thin nails, I have never been able to grow my nails. So having nails is my signature; it is what makes me feel confident and comfortable. If I haven’t taken a break in 23 years, taking my nails off and not getting a new set for months is out of character. I didn’t notice it. Then after, my friend straight said that is weird. Are you sure you aren’t depressed? Then it brought back the standard emotional test your GP gives you. Have you been able to enjoy hobbies that generally brings you happiness? Oh, oh. No. Crap. I like to believe as a person that has battled anxiety and depression; I try to keep a tight leash on my emotional wellbeing. This funk has slowly taken over my life. I realized I didn’t even plan my birthday bash, which should have been a trip to Las Vegas. I didn’t even look into tickets or childcare, and I blanked it off. My birthday consisted of waiting for the kids to get home from school and us going out to dinner. I didn’t even spend time with my friends or the rest of my family. I took stock further. I don’t wear makeup, get dressed up, or even have tattoo appointments anymore. I didn’t spend time with my sister on her birthday—just days on days of blah. My time spent indoors went from cooking, creating, and watching tv downstairs to just sitting on the couch or laying in bed day after day. I have let depression creep into many realms of my life, my relationship with my children, my business, and my day-to-day expectations of myself. I understand there are many factors at play here, two home businesses, the year of homeschooling, and the pandemic. There are many reasons to relax all the hoopla of the social contract and self-imposed beauty standards. I hope if any reader has gotten to this point and realized you are feeling the same, please reach out to friends and family. Speak to your doctor. I spoke to my therapist and reached out to friends and family, admitting yes. I am sorry I haven’t been there for you either. I am feeling depressed. It is not just the seasonal bump in the road. It’s a little deeper than that. I started scheduling more out-of-the-house appointments and walking. A little more getting into getting dressed and getting some vitamin d. With steps to get on medication if the fog doesn’t start to dissipate. So yeah, I hit my point. I am depressed; I am in a funk. I need to make some changes to get myself back where I want to be.
