Here's a thing I didn't know about depression recovery: Your to-do list is INSANE.
(I suppose I should avoid using words like INSANE as a hyperbolic adjective as we all attempt to de-stigmatize mental health disorders, but that would mean I'd also have to avoid words like CRAZYPANTS or BONKERSVILLE or ZIPPITY HUMMINGBIRD BRAIN and I just don't think I can do that. I am just a girl, with GAD and a CAPS LOCK key, doing what she can.)
Anyway. I've been busy. There's a lot of catching up to do and holes to fill and bridges to un-burn. You have to figure out how to prove yourself as an un-shit employee and friend, make a lot of appointments and phone calls that should've happened six months ago...or maybe just look at a piece of fuzz on the floor and think to yourself, "I am going to pick up that piece of fuzz on the floor today."
And then you pick it up. And allow yourself a brief moment of pride over this perfectly mundane and tiny task, because congratulations! You're officially human-ing at a baseline level again.
Tremble before me, o fearsome floor fuzz! Begone, both u and the desiccated dog toy husk u came from!
I actually changed my mind after this post and ended up staying on Wellbutrin. It's still the dead of winter, there's a couple unpleasant cyclical triggers on the horizon, let's not be too hasty here. It's a low dose, and other than needing to add a heartburn medicine to my morning pill line-up, the side effects are mild and tolerable. Paired with Buspar, I'm feeling very, very good. Very, very many good days in a row. Work is getting done, the house is getting clean, laughter is getting laughed, normal is getting normed, etc. etc.
Ezra and Ike went to school today with their Valentines -- the cheap-o drugstore kind with candy and bad licensed-character puns, the kind they explicitly asked for and received -- and juice boxes for the classroom parties. Noah, despite this being his second year of middle school, suddenly realized that there are no classroom parties in middle school, and that kind of sucks. So I made a double batch of his favorite cookies (orange chocolate chip) last night and snuck a few into his lunchbox. And then maybe let him eat one for breakfast, too.
(I baked Ike his favorite carrot-zucchini muffins and Ezra got a big bowl of mashed sweet potatoes for breakfast. My children's preferences are a bit weird and a lot wonderful.)
Tonight Jason and I will continue our Valentine's tradition of staying the fuck home and cooking ourselves an elaborate multi-course meal after serving the kids an early pizza and sending them to the basement to argue over what movie to watch. I bought some cute new clothes that actually fit so I can eat all the food without feeling pinched and bad about myself. I'm in charge of baking the cheese puffs and brownies.
None of this is edge-of-your-seat blog-worthy excitement, I know. But it's real and it's happening and I couldn't be happier -- or more grateful -- about any of it.