I found out today that someone on one of the forums I frequent had killed himself.  I didn’t really have much contact with this person.  I’d seen his posts, we’d interacted a few times, but mostly he was just a screen name and an icon to me.  He apparently had made quite a difference on the forum, but I hadn’t really known him well or crossed paths with him much.  For all intents and purposes it was almost like hearing a stranger had died. Except this strangers was, however peripherally, someone I’d known.

Mostly, when I hear someone is depressed and committed suicide I think what most people do,  some variation of “how sad” and “what a waste”.  I don’t generally let it go much deeper than that.  Underneath the sincere “how sad” lurks  the twin specters of “it could have been you” and “thank god it wasn’t me”.  Neither is a comfortable thought.

I don’t talk about my dark year much because there aren’t words to convey the depths of despair that I experienced.  I literally didn’t care whether I lived or died.  Dying seemed easier and infinitely preferable.  I didn’t see how I could get out of the pain I was in, and I didn’t think there would ever be a light that could dispel my darkness.

I wish I could say I knew why I’m still alive today, but I really don’t.  Maybe it was grace or fate or maybe it was luck.  Something kept me going and eventually something got me well.  Maybe I was just too stubborn to give in.  I’ve certainly been accused of stubbornness in the past.

If you’ve never experienced it, I’m not sure I can convey what absolute, total, utter darkness of the soul feels like.  I can talk about being smothered in a blanket of sadness and drowning in a dark pool of gloom and those would be poetical and strangely beautiful descriptions, but they wouldn’t even come close to describing what it’s like.  The nearest I can come to describing it is to tell you to imagine the flatline on a heart monitor.  That’s what it’s like.  No life, no sound, no laughter, no hope.  Just a long flat line and a monotonous beep that seems as though it will go on forever without changing.  It’s no wonder that sometimes the darkness wins.

Tonight as I sit here in my still new house, after making a nice dinner and doing my strength training, I’m alternately sad for this poor man I barely knew and consumed with gratitude that I didn’t end up like him.  It seems odd to be so sad for someone else and so happy for myself, but that’s how it is.  Sometimes the darkness wins.

Sometimes.

It didn’t, however, get me.

I’m a procrastinator.  Not about everything, but I do tend to put some things off longer than is sensible or efficient.  Let me give you an example.  For the past several weeks I’ve had a few small things I needed to do.  I had to get a minor repair done on my glasses.   I needed to get the oil changed in my car.  I needed to buy a mop so I could mop the floors in my new place.  I had to return an item that didn’t work.  I knew I needed to do these things, but kept putting them off.

Yesterday, I finally went and ran those errands I’d been putting off.  My glasses were fixed quickly, easily and cheaply.  My oil change took about 20 minutes.  I was able to easily return the item I didn’t need, and the refund purchased the mop and floor cleaning stuff that I did need.  In all, I spent about two hours running errands and getting things done.  When I came home, a lot of little nagging tasks were off my list, and I felt a true sense of accomplishment.

What I’m trying to figure out is why I kept putting those tasks off, and why I exhibit similar behavior when it comes to doing things for myself.  Ask me to do something for someone else and I’m on it right away.  When, however, it comes to doing things that will benefit myself, I tend to put the task off.  I’m finding the tendency annoying and I’d really like to make it stop.

I suppose part of the reason I do it is because doing things for myself feels self indulgent.  I was always taught that doing things for others was virtuous and good.   I also have a pretty big streak of people pleaser in me.  Doing things for others is a way to be useful and a way to be liked.  Being a manager and a facilitator was a coping strategy of mine for many years  I suppose that still lingers.

Not that I want to be new agey about things, but I also think procrastination is a way of delaying benefits for myself.  If you don’t think you deserve good things in your life, you tend to delay taking the steps that would bring good things into your life.  Even if it’s something as simple as getting your glasses fixed so they don’t slip down your nose, procrastinating on completing the task means you’ll suffer an inconveneince just a little longer.  If you think you deserve suffering or punishment or should come last, procrastination is a great way to make that happen.

It could be that I’m overthinking this all way too much.  This certainly wouldn’t be the first time I’ve overanalyszed a situation to death.  I also suppose it really doesn’t matter why I procrastinate.  I just know I need to stop doing it.  After all, I do deserve only good in my life and procrastinating will only delay it that much longer.

I was raised by a mother who cared quite intensely what the neighbors thought.  Inside the house, when it was just us, there were some hair raising fights and some ugly scenes.  Outside the house, where other people could see us, we appeared to be the perfect American family.  The disparity used to make my head spin.  How could we all scream horrible things at each other in private and be loving in public?  It didn’t make sense.

What the neighbors or other people would think became the ruling mantra of my life for a number of years.  It didn’t matter whether you were happy or healthy or functioning at all in private, as long as you could put on a facade in public and fool everyone who might be looking.  I became very adept at hiding who I was and what I thought, mostly because I thought who I was would never be good enough and what I thought would never matter.

Finally, when I was in my early 20’s the facade and I both came crashing down.  During my lost year I didn’t care who saw the pain I was in.  It sounds strange, but letting people see what a mess I was felt liberating.  I was finally showing years of hurt, and it wasn’t pretty but it was honest.  I gradually realized that it was a little honesty that I’d most wanted all along.

For the most part, since that year, I’ve stopped worrying what the neighbors think.  I do what I do and let them think what they will.  While I still sometimes find myself wondering what this person or that person might think about something I’ve done, most of the time I just remind myself that most people are too preoccupied with their own lives to worry about what I’m doing with mine.

I haven’t completely shed the “what will the neighbors think” syndrome, but I’m getting closer to that goal.  The more I like myself the less it matters what anyone but me thinks about what I do.  I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to be able to say that.

Lately it seems that I spend a lot of my time worrying.  I tell myself I’m not going to obsess about my heart rate and then I check it twenty times a day.  I worry it’s too slow.  I worry it’s too fast.  I worry, if it seems to be beating steadily, that something will go wrong.  I worry that the medication will stop working.  I worry about what we’ll do if the medication stops working.  If I’m feeling good, I worry that I’ll stop feeling good.  If I’m feeling bad, I worry that means that another episode is on the horizon.  I’m spending so much time obsessing and worrying I feel like I’m not doing much living.

For the record, my heart rate is fine and my heart is functioning normally.  My heart is healthy and my heart rate is strong and steady.  Yes, sometimes it is faster than others, but it is no faster than anyone’s heart would be if they were exercising or undergoing stress.  The medications I take seem to be doing the job admirably well.  Now, if only they could give me something to shut off the worry gene, everything would be golden.

They say that when you have a lesson to learn the teacher shows up.  I guess, in this case, afib showed up to teach me that I can’t control everything.  I have to learn to go with the flow and deal with things as they come.  A very wise friend gives me this advice often, and I want to take it, but I also want to say “yeah but”.  As in “yeah but that’s easy for you to say, you’re not dealing with this.” Or, “yeah but, you don’t have almost 5,000 dollars of debt from unexpected hospital stays.”  Or, “yeah but, I’m doing this all by myself and there are times when I get scared”.

The reality of the situation is I can’t control this.  I can do everything right, lose weight, take all my medications precisely on time, avoid stress, exercise to make my heart stronger, and think positively, and it might still happen again anyway.  There is no magic bullet, there is no special pill and there is no guarantee.  The thing is there’s no guarantee on anything in life, and I’ve been living my life as though I expect one.

I guess it’s time to take some chances and maybe trust a little in the benevolence of the universe.  Maybe, just maybe, if I believe that the universe wants me to have only good things, like good health, in my life, that’s what I’ll have.

Right now, this moment, my heart is healthy and functions perfectly with a strong, steady beat.  There’s no reason to assume that won’t continue.  So, from now on, I’m going to plan on good things happening and let the rest take care of itself.

As far as I’m concerned, that’s what settling or more is all about.

Glenda Lee Ackerman Shreve Fosgitt passed away six years ago today.  She died of liver cancer.  She was 56.  She was my mother.

To understand the magnitude of losing my Mom at the young age of 56, you have to understand something about the women on both sides of my family.  I have good genes.  The women in my family lived forever.  My paternal great grandmother lived to be 99.  I have maternal great aunts who are in their 90s.  My maternal grandmother is 98.  Given that record, I expected to have my Mom around for many more years.  Losing her at 56 was a shock.

There’s a tendency after someone dies to change them into some sort of saint.  Much as I’d like to do that with Mom, I can’t.  We had our share of conflicts over the years, and there was a lot we didn’t agree on.  There were times I felt that she wanted me to be anyone but who I was, and I’m sure there were times she felt the same thing about me in reverse.  Fortunately, we made our peace and got quite close before she died.  Somehow, even though it made losing that wonderful new relationship we had that much worse, it also made losing her a little easier.  When she died I knew she was proud of me and what I was becoming.  I’ll be grateful for that knowledge for the rest of my life.

Mom and I had completely different personalities and we wanted a lot of different things from life.  I can’t say I ever hoped to grow up to be just like her, but she did teach me several lessons that I value.  The biggest lesson she taught me was to value myself.  She also taught me to have compassion and to care for and about others.  Mom loved her family very much and when the chips were down I knew she would be there for me, even in the times when we didn’t like each other very much.

Today, on the sixth anniversary of her death, I think she would be proud of who and what I’ve become.  I still have a way to go before I become the person I aspire to be, but I think I’m closer now than I’ve ever been.  I wish she was here to see it, and to know that the screwed up young woman over whom she despaired has become a functioning, responsible adult.  She got to see the beginnings of that.  I wish she had gotten to see more.

Still, today, I choose to believe that she knows and is proud of me and happy for me.

I love you Mom, and I always will.

When you start out writing a blog, first you just hope people read.  Then, after a while, you start hoping those who read like what they read.  Every once in a while, if you’re very lucky, someone let’s you know that they enjoy what you’re writing.  That’s what happened to me today.

Jody, from The Hunter’s Wife,  gifted me with the I Love Your Blog Award.  As I am a huge fan of Jody’s work, it is nice to know that she likes what I do as well.

According to the rules of the award, I meant to:

• Link to Jody’s Blog
• Answer some questions which I will do after this list
• Tag 7 others – I may not make it to seven, but I will tag a few

Now, for the questions:

1. Where is your cell phone? Counter
2. Where is your significant other? N/A
3. Your hair color? Blonde
4. Your mother? Passed on
5. Your father? Fishing
6. Your favorite thing? Computer
7. Your dream last night? Don’t remember
8. Your dream/goal? Self actualization
9. The room you’re in? Living room
10. Your hobby? Computer
11. Your fear? Snakes/Being alone forever
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Thinner, in love and wealthier
13. Where were you last night? Home
14. What you’re not? Religious
15. One of your wish-list items? New Clothes
16. Where you grew up? Midland, MIchigan
17. The last thing you did? wrote an e-mail
18. What are you wearing? A t-shirt and sweat pants
19. Your TV? Annoying
20. Your pet? N/A
21. Your computer? Dell
22. Your mood? Happy
23. Missing someone? Mom
24. Your car? Saturn
25. Something you’re not wearing? Shoes
26. Favorite store? Borders
27. Your summer? Hot
28. Love someone? My dad
29. Your favorite color? Purple
30. When is the last time you laughed? Today
31. Last time you cried? Yesterday

Thanks to Jody for spreading some blog love my way.  I do appreciate it.  Now, according to the rules of the game, I have to spread some love myself.  I’m going to reserve two of my awards for now and pass it along to five other bloggers.  I hope they’ll answer the questions too.

I pass the award to :

Blessed from A Blessed, Crazy Life

Jamie from Paint Til You Faint

Muse from Musings, Chocolate and Tea

Jane at What I Love to Do

Steve at The VanBlog

In this week when so much news has surfaced about companies going bankrupt and so many people losing their jobs, I’m grateful that I have a steady job that allows me to pay my bills and have a bit extra.  I can’t imagine how awful it would be to go to work one morning and suddenly no longer have a paycheck.  Or, alternatively, to always be wondering if your job is going to gone tomorrow due to downsizing or layoffs.

My job may not be perfect, what job is, but it is steady and I make a decent paycheck.  At a time when a lot of companies are pulling back or downsizing, the company for which I work is trying new things and looking for ways to expand.  I don’t worry that my job will be gone someday soon.  I’m confident that it will be around for as long as I want it to be.

Having had years when paying my bills was a struggle, it is nice to have the security of money in the bank and a surplus left over at the end of the month.  My job also allowed me to buy my first home.

My heart goes out to all those who are dealing with unemployment and struggling to find new jobs.  I know that is a terribly hard thing to endure, particularly in today’s job market.  I wouldn’t want to be in their shoes, and I have to say that, today, I’m grateful I’m not.

Yesterday I did something that still mystifies me a bit.  I needed to stop at the grocery last night, which is never one of my favorite activities.  My new house is about a half mile, if that, from a grocery store.  There is also one about a mile or so from my office, which was the place I would be leaving to go to the grocery.  Either place would have made sense.  I like both stores equally well.  I didn’t, however, go to either of those stores.  Instead, I drove across town, and quite a bit out of my way, to go to a grocery store that I frequently shopped at when I lived in my apartment.  It made no sense.

After thinking about it for a while, I realized that I have become quite a creature of habit.  I like routine because, to me, routine equals safety.  If I know what’s going to happen and everything is familiar than it isn’t likely that anything will blindside me or make me feel unsafe.  I also feel more in control in surroundings that are familiar.  If I know the territory I feel as though I’m less likely to encounter anything that will make me upset or uncertain.

This all, of course, stems back to my fear that my depression might come back.  I’ve discussed my theory about building a safe and mundane life as a bulwark against future depressive episodes.  I’ve also noted that my theory doesn’t work and that, while I succeeded in keeping fun and happiness out, I didn’t succeed in eliminating sadness and grief.   I think part of my clinging to familiar surroundings and places is rooted in that theory.  Even though I know it doesn’t work, I still keep doing it.

When I started writing this blog, one of the things I wanted was a fuller, richer life.  I wanted to live at the apex of my potential in all areas.  I wanted job and laughter and love and wonderfulness, even if it did come with the potential for sadness and pain.  You can’t be open to one without being open to the other.  You also can’t deny yourself happiness just because sadness might come in the future.  That just doesn’t make sense.

One of my goals for the rest of this year is to stop being such a creature of habit and to try new things.  Maybe I’ll take a class.  Maybe I’ll try a new restaurant. Maybe trying new things will be as simple as going to the grocery store near my house.  All I know is that I need to expand my life.  I’m hoping that will become my new habit.

This Wednesday I want to talk about something for which I have been really grateful lately, my health.  After all the issues I had earlier in the year, it may sound odd to say I’m grateful for my health, but I am. It took me almost 40 years but I’ve finally come to comprehend how valuable my health is to me.  I’ve also come to understand that there are a lot of people battling much worse problems than anything that I face.  I’m be very churlish if I were anything but grateful for how lucky I am. .

I’m grateful that my heart, which didn’t even start out fresh from the factory, is responding well to the new medications.  I can proudly say that my heart is healthy and functions perfectly.  At my last cardiologist appointment, Cute Cardiologist said he’d never seen a heart respond so well.  After two surgeries and various medications, my heart is still hanging in there and doing what it’s supposed to do.  Who wouldn’t be grateful for that?

I also grateful that, after years of neglecting my body, I am still able to lose weight and get in shape.  I can run and jump and sweat and get stronger.  I can stand when I want and sit when I want and walk under my own power.  I know, for some people, having that ability just for the day would be the stuff of dreams.  I’m working to never take that ability for granted.

I’m also grateful that my brain is sharp and healthy.  I’ve always been a person who lived half in her thoughts.  Having a brain that can comprehend complex ideas, that can imagine great things and that can be by turns witty, wise and sarcastic is a wonderful thing.  My brain allows me to read at warp speed, to learn new things and to appreciate the beauty around me.  I know, for some people, the brain doesn’t work that way.  I’m grateful that mine does.

I’ve also come to treasure all my senses.  Today I took the office dog out for a potty break.  It was a lovely Fall day, not to warm and not too cold.  I could feel the warm sun on my back and a gentle cool breeze on my skin.  I could see the green grass and the green trees and the clear blue sky.  I could smell the freshly mowed grass that lay around me.  I could hear the chirping of the birds.  It was one brief prefect moment, and I was able to enjoy it all.

Sometimes it’s the simple things that we take for granted that we need to treasure most of all.  On this Wednesday, I pledge to do all I can to protect my health and to stay healthy.  I’m grateful to have the opportunity to do that.

I’ve never been a relax and go with the flow kind of girl.  I always want to be in control.  I suppose that’s a legacy from my childhood when I often felt out of control and powerless to change things while simultaneously being told that all the bad things that were happening were my fault.  Being so powerless while being told you’re so powerful can really mess with your head.

Basically I grew into an adult who pretty much assumed she was doomed but also believed that if she could just control everything she could avert that doom.   I spent a lot of time obsessing over how I could build the perfect life while around me my real life spun out of control.  I also spent most of my time stressed and tied up in knots.  I’m not sure I even knew the meaning of the word relax.

Gradually, very gradually, I started to get smart.  My first breakthrough was realizing that people who loved themselves didn’t purposely put obstacles in their own path.  My second breakthrough was realizing that I wasn’t doomed, and that maybe the best way to avert doom was to look at things in a more positive way.  The third breakthrough was realizing that the person who was causing me the most amount of stress was myself.

I’ve been through some really hard and painful stuff in my life.  At no point did obsessing about my problems and getting stressed help me find a solution to that problem.  It also did me no good to get mad about what seemed unjust or unfair. It still happened to me anyway.  Now I work on dealing with the problem without letting the problem get to me.  I want a good outcome and a positive lifestyle, but I also want to achieve those goals without making myself a nutcase.  Luckily, my two wishes are not mutually exclusive.

My plan now is to deal in a positive way with obstacles and problems.  I try to handle things immediately and not let them simmer, which is a new method for me.  I was the queen of avoidance, which often caused addtional problems.  Dealing with things in the here and now works much better and generally goes more smoothly than when I hid from problems and procrastinated.

I’ve also learned not to obsess and not to beat myself up when things don’t go as I would like.  I deal with the situation and once it’s over I’ve move on.  I’ve learned to cut myself a break, and my life is definitely happier because I’ve learned that skill.