I am privileged, and I see what is going on here.

I have spent a great deal of my adult life working on my sensitivity.

It was with great reluctance that I posted this essay here. I do not want to be insensitive, or seen as jumping on any bandwagon. I hope I am more successful and evolved than some of the people I have seen sharing their thoughts - and I am using that term very loosely here - about two events that happened last week. These events may seem wholly unrelated, but a single, important fact connects them: two people died and left their families heartbroken.

The first event was the shooting death of Michael Brown, an unarmed teenager walking on the street outside his grandmother's house in Ferguson, MO.
The second was the suicide of Robin Williams at his home in unincorporated Tiburon, California.
(And seriously, they need to get incorporated so that we can just say "Tiburon" because really, do you care if they are incorporated or not? Me neither. /tangent)

I can't stop thinking about them, these two people who were here, until suddenly they were not. Judging by social media, other people can't stop thinking about them either. And that is a good thing.  Their lives had value. Both of them. Their deaths matter. Between the ice bucket challenge videos, there are Robin Williams quotes and people sharing their personal experiences with depression or offering support to others, and there are also photos of what appears to be a militia taking the streets of a town in the middle of America, Americans with their hands raised in the air on the street outside of their home chanting "Don't shoot" and video of children and journalists being hit with tear gas.

I wince as I look at my computer screen lately, through the tears and the anxiety attacks that seem to come in waves as I scroll. People are dying all over this world, and the planet is looking pretty bleak these days, but the two people whose deaths are affecting me and my life the most right now, and making me feel the most helpless and hopeless and confused, are Robin Williams and Michael Brown.

Full disclosure, lest you feel the need to call me out for discussing subjects I know nothing about - I hear you. I am not a mental health professional, nor do I have any experience interacting with law enforcement, aside from a few parking tickets. I am not going to hold up my six degrees of separation to try to gain some credibility. I am white, and currently my mental health is stable, I am married to a man, and I am not living in poverty. Things are good, for me and my family.

And that is precisely why I should say something. Because I am privileged, and I see what is going on here, and I refuse to wear blinders to continue on my happy way.

Here's what I do know:

1. Depression can be as deadly a disease as cancer. You do not need to be a mental health professional to know that much, but sadly I fear that this is not an acknowledged fact in the mainstream. Robin Williams died because he was ill. His death was a direct result of mental illness. Period. Just because he wasn't homeless, just because he had a family who loved and cared for him, just because he had access to healthcare and medications, doesn't make him any less ill than the guy sitting on the corner begging for change, barefoot and months from his last shower. Just because he died at his own hand, rather than at the hands of someone else, does not make it his fault, or his choice. (Side note: the numbers vary across the country, but generally speaking a significant portion of the people killed by police each year are mentally ill.)

2. And speaking of police killing people, let's talk about that. I expect police officers to hold their fire until they are staring down the barrel of someone else's gun and they have no choice - no other alternative - than to draw their weapon and be prepared to defend themselves. I mean, are cops in Ferguson not schooled in self-defense? Is there really no other way to protect and serve without shooting unarmed people? I have friends and relatives who are cops - some in in NYC, which I think we can all agree is a pretty good place to use as a reference for this conversation - and I know that they have been injured trying to subdue a suspect without using their weapon. And it is terrible that they were injured in the line of duty, while serving and protecting their community, but the bottom line is, even when they were faced with a very aggressive individual, they did not shoot them. In an ideal world - the one in my dreams - I thought this was how it was everywhere. A fictional sheriff from Mayberry said it best:

This is not the reality. I knew that on some level, but when I saw the armored vehicles rolling up to a line of peaceful protestors, I realized that things were much further from how I thought - and dreamed - they would be in this day and age.

I know that these events deserve much more than a blog post. But I have no idea what to do, or how to help, other than letting people know how I feel. The bottom line here is that both of these deaths were not unavoidable, and they are both symptoms of much bigger problems: In this wonderful country of ours, people discriminate all day every day. I feel fairly confident that every person has experienced some form of discrimination, felt some shame or helplessness. And I can assure you that there is discrimination against both people of color, and people with mental health issues.

I know this is true, because just last night I was at work and a couple walked in the door - he was black, and she was white, and from my vantage point behind the bar, I personally witnessed other customers look over their shoulder to watch them walk in.

My god you would think they were walking in naked, the way that people turned to look, and then quickly looked away again.

Then just the other morning at the therapist's office, as I waited for my appointment, I kept my head down. I did not make eye contact with anyone but the receptionist and my therapist the entire time I was in there. And as I was walking out through the waiting room, I saw someone I recognized - and as soon as I did I averted my eyes so as to avoid acknowledging that we were both in an office to see someone about our mental health.

As though there was some shame in getting help. In healing, and hopefully recovering. I was choosing not to share this experience, not to find an ally in this long and exhausting journey.

In both of these instances, the silence was deafening. It pulsed and it grew between us. Everyone in the room was aware of it, but no one was willing to take responsibility for it. To own the truth.

When Robin Williams died, his family and close colleagues knew he was battling depression. The rest of us were completely unaware, until it was far too late. And that is because depression is not always easy to spot. At times it is completely silent, a dormant volcano with the pressure building as all outward appearances remain unchanged. What is sad to me is that his beloved family were left so powerless. They had loved him and supported him and encouraged him to get treatment. Aside from standing next to him 24 hours a day - which is no way for anyone to live, and would not have helped his depression one bit, I'm sure - they had been there for him. Let him know he was loved, he was needed, he was important and valued. But the pressure was so great that it blocked out everything, like having a terrible throbbing migraine that impacts every moment of your life while it is there inside your head.

The same goes for racism. It can be a silent, unspoken, equally dangerous threat. 

Michael Brown was killed in a town where, a lot of people seemed to know there was a problem, an abuse of power within their police department, but no one outside of Ferguson seemed to know, or care, until someone's child was shot and killed in the middle of the afternoon a few steps from his grandmother's house. Racially, Michael was in the majority. The easy thing would be to believe he was enjoying the security and privileges that would come - one would think - from being in the majority. But perhaps it actually made him even more of a target. The police officer was white, and knew he was in the minority, and by all accounts, he claims he was afraid. And I have no idea why he was afraid - I was not there and neither were you, most likely, but even if he was afraid, there is still no excuse for shooting that boy. It is a damn shame that he felt he was not able to do his job without shooting an unarmed kid in the middle of the street. That he had so little training, and so few resources, that he instinctively reached for his gun, rather than, say, simply asking the kids to get on the sidewalk as he drove by. He didn't even need to stop, he could have just slowed down and said something like "Hey guys, use the sidewalk!" with a smile and a wave, and then driven away. There is no other excuse or explanation for what came next, except utter cowardice. And he lashed out with unforgettable, unforgivable violence, because of his fear.

And that is the essence of these two stories. Fear. 

People throughout this world experience racism and depression, and both of these appear to be rooted in fear. It remains far too easy to leave that fear silent between us, hoping that if we ignore it for long enough, it will go away. 

I am here to say that is not true. 

We need to be brave. We need to raise our voices - and not just across social media. Sure - it is easy enough to share a link or click "like" and think your work is done, your position known. That is not enough. We need to bring the discussion to our day to day lives, in our conversations with our children, our friends, and our neighbors. We need to let them know that we care. We need to stand tall and speak the truth. 

Before that dormant monster Fear rears it's ugly head.

Before someone else is killed by the unspoken, pulsing beast that is right there. Growing right in front of all of us, every day, gaining it's power through our silence.

Links:
Police Confront Rising Number of Mentally Ill Suspects

Dealing with Everyday Racism

Eleven Things White People Should Stop Saying to Black People Immediately

Becoming a White Ally to Black People in the Aftermath of Michael Brown's Murder

Robin Williams Didn't Kill Himself

Suicide a Disease?

I will add more links here as I see them, it is frustrating to me that most of what I am reading is a numbered list. People, life is not the David Letterman Show. I do not need or want a top ten list for every crisis. I welcome one solid piece of advice from anyone. Feel free to add your own in the comments. I also have a "depression" tag for some of my posts, so you can find some of my previous writing about my personal experiences with depression.

Trouble in paradise

This weekend has been full of work and friends and family and fun, and a massive struggle to keep myself together. But really, it's not a crisis or anything like that, and I feel like a shit for even bringing it up. I mean, I know there are a lot of people out there who actually have REAL PROBLEMS. And mine seems like nothing. A shadow of what real problems should be. So does that make them less valid ? I think it does......and yet.......but still.

Even with my trusty Prozac, over the past few months daily life has become increasingly difficult for me. I go for days without leaving the house. I avoid answering the phone. I sit at home, online, drinking tea, and thinking. And worrying. If you have recently sent a text or left a voicemail, there is a pretty good chance I haven't checked it. I get my email, but rarely respond - I don't know what to say. I don't have anything really important to say right now. I guess. I don't feel much like talking. I don't know how to respond.

The night sweats are back with a vengeance - one of the first sure, physical signs I have that the medicine is losing it's efficacy.

And more frequently now, I am having panic attacks - with the pounding heart and blurred vision and tight chest and breathlessness that, when I first experienced them, I thought were signs I was having a heart attack. Now, all of these years later, I know I'm not dying, but it's still scary. Especially since I have experienced them so INfrequently the past year or so - theirs is not a welcome return.

But the worst is I am not sleeping - maybe because my bed is soaking wet and I am chilled to the bone from the damn night sweats. Maybe because I lie in bed thinking about Sami and the kids and money and work and the dog and the truck and the house and things that happened that day and people I know and conversations I had......

With that said, it should come as no surprise to hear that I am constantly exhausted. You know, I read that sentence and I think: I feel as though every time I speak to someone, or write something, I mention how exhausted I am. I am starting to think that isn't even an accurate description. I am not exhausted. I am not just tired, or weary, or sleepy, or fatigued, or worn out.

This is more then that. This is having to pull over on the side of the road at 3pm because I am afraid I am going to fall asleep at the wheel. This is struggling to stay awake in the morning to get Max to school, then coming home and climbing back into bed with Lucy and a movie on the laptop, and sleeping for another few hours. This is having to drink an espresso to go out to dinner. It's not every day, but it is frequent, and frustrating. I have a lot to do, a lot to get done, a lot of things I want to accomplish - not just in my day, but in my LIFE. And this struggle is keeping me from doing too many things.

I hate to be on a prescription. I hate to take a pill every day. I have tried Paxil, and also tried a higher dose of the Prozac, but both left me feeling like a zombie. Since I am already barely awake as it IS, that option is not very appealing. I always hoped I would take the Prozac for 6 months or a year, and then stop, and be magically better. But as I have gotten older, and progressed through menopause, then had the hysterectomy, then dealt with the emotions and hormones relating to all of that...well.......it has been a hard couple of years, and instead of getting easier, it just seems to be getting harder.

This shouldn't be so hard.

This doesn't feel like me.

That is the weird thing about depression - it's not as though I am sitting around feeling SAD all the time. I'm not ill, I am still dressed and functioning. I'm still ME, everything still WORKS, but I feel like the Grinch Who Stole Christmas, with a heart 3 sizes too small. I'm living life wrapped in a comforter, muffled and confused and a little off balance. I can't feel things the same way. Reaching out is almost impossible. I cannot touch, or be touched. I can barely lift my arms sometimes. But inside, I am fully aware that I am wrapped up like a mummy, and I WANT to get out, shed the weight, the constrictions of all of these layers......I just don't have the energy. Maybe tomorrow, I think. Maybe later.

I have been here before. Depression is cyclical for me - damn long cycles, but cycles nonetheless. Crippling sadness, followed by outrageous, manic behavior, followed by a period of calm - where I can give advice ad nauseum, and take my own advice to heart. And then, something happens, a switch is flipped, and suddenly everything that was do-able is now undone. Sometimes, a stage lasts for months - but it always evolves. Or at least, it has before. I am sure it will again, sooner rather then later since it has been a while now......

So, this post is really just to say "Hey. I am still struggling. I am here, but it feels very far away. Hang in there with me."

I am fine, and yet I am not fine - all at the same time. Not a scary "not fine" - they're not going to admit me to the Molokini ward or anything for God's sake - this is just a muddled version of the real me, right now. I have all sorts of thoughts and feelings in here - and I am trying to find a way to let them out, share them with you, show them to everyone and say "HERE. THIS is what I think. THIS is how I feel."

It should be VERY interesting, hm ?

Sometimes you get the worm - and sometimes, the worm gets you

Today I had a really hard day. Trying to juggle holidays, meals, work, kids, errands, attempt to do some laundry - and completely bagged on cleaning the house.

I mean, really. What's the point.

If it isn't obvious yet, my prescription still isn't here (oh, Prozac, how I love you. You make the world seem more peaceful and fair.)

I cancelled our American Express card (also known as my meal ticket) today because, well, I am tired of living according to someone else's whim. These credit card companies are BASTARDS, and today, they just pushed me too far. These employees are obviously on some sort of crazy power trip and you know what, I am over it. Don't send me an offer to transfer a balance, and then DENY IT. You asked, you idiot ! Don't repond by behaving as though I have asked for your firstborn.

It's cash only from this point onward. We build enough credit with the damn mortgage, I don't need revolving credit to help me out.

I put a new For Sale sign on the truck - not even a nibble yet, but maybe it will just take a little time.......Doesn't someone want a nice blue truck for Christmas ?

Tonight I am going to make Creme de Menthe bars (one shot for the mixing bowl, one shot for me.....one shot for the bowl, one shot for me.....) and maybe some fudge. I don't know. I'm playing it by ear. I think I am going to need some additional support to make it through the evening.

Prozac, wherefore art thou Prozac.........

On why Hot Chocolate should never be consumed in the car

I am an idiot.

I took the kids ice skating at Rockefeller Center (awesome)
We got a killer parking space (awesome)
We got hot cocoa after ice skating (awesome)
The bakery didn't have seating, and they were closing, and the kids had to drink their hot cocoa in the car (not awesome at all).

So. This was yet another example of Things Mommy Does Not Handle Well Without Her Prozac.

I am trying. I am REALLY TRYING. But this is HARD. Thank god I am not a single parent because I would totally fuck these kids up if I was with them and responsible for them 24/7. After 2+ weeks of traveling, I am pretty much Over It. I have no patience, and apparently I am now a mute - because no matter what I say, it is though I have not spoken at all. I repeat myself. I do not yell. I speak calmly. I speak slowly. I speak clearly.
"No." This should be an easy one. Clear. Direct. No wishywashyness or debate indicated.
"Stand Right There." (with added hand pointing to specify the desired location of said standing).
"Put your coat on."
"That is for the airplane."
"Do your homework first."
"Eat your vegetables."
"Please stop arguing." For the record - using please does not make any difference to them AT ALL. They still don't do what I ask.
"Sign this card." (This one was a total disaster. I asked them each to sign their name. Lucy draws a bunch of stuff, which is OK, but then Max starts writing "from: Max". Only he miss-spells from. And Max. And now there is a bunch of scribbles on the nice card and no one's name is legible, and DAMMIT why can't you each just write your damn name and have that be it ? ARGH. Seems like a small thing, but it's a long tense story to explain the recipient of the card and why I am already really struggling with sending a card and gift to begin with. A story for another time.)

We got to my brother's house tonight for our very brief visit, and I felt like I was lecturing them from the moment we walked in the door.
"No running."
"Quiet Voices."
"Please stop arguing."
"I told you NO."
"Sit down."
"Eat your food."

The problem is this. By the end of the day (which it was by the time we got to my brother's) I have been ignored for 10 hours. I am aggravated. Frustrated. And my patience is at it's very tired, frayed, ratty end.

Some background: When I am ready to leave somewhere, one of two things happen. I say "Let's go." and they completely ignore me, OR I say "Let's go." And Lucy starts sobbing hysterically and Max starts begging to stay. Or to get something to eat. Or to have a toy bought for him. Or to watch "Five more minutes" of whatever is on TV.

And then I freak out. And yell. And they look at me as though I have just broken their hearts into a million tiny pieces. I really do suck. I know. They know. We'll muddle through. But in the meantime, pass the prozac please.

A vacation pause, and a reality check

I sort of, well, stopped taking my Prozac recently. Yeah. Probably not the bestest idea.

So while I was driving along the other day, and it was 2 in the afternoon and the sun appeared to be setting already, and it was all cold and gray out, I realized "Oh. See. THIS is why I was depressed the whole time I lived here." I mean, I didn't want to drive my car off a bridge or anything, but there was definitely some hyperventilating and blurry vision and "Oh My God what if I'm seriously losing it" moments.

Over the past few days, things have become more challenging. It's not that I am forgetful, per se, but that I just can't pull my head out of my ass, no matter how hard I try. Even if I brace myself against the banister, and pull with all of my might, it is so firmly lodged that I can barely see the light of day. It's funny, because I thought I felt like that because I was ON the Prozac. Turns out I am just LIKE THAT naturally, and the Prozac actually makes me a little LESS like that. Or maybe still like that, but I just don't care as much ? Or I am too sleepy to notice. Whatever. Either way.

But lately, I am really feeling, um, disoriented. For instance, I can't keep track of my phone. Or my keys. Or the time.

Last night, at 8pm, I realized my children had not eaten dinner. So I decided to take them out. And where did I take them for a nice family meal ? The Foxwoods Casino. Oh yes I did - and I was getting some PRETTY STRANGE LOOKS as we wandered through at 9, and again at 10:30. And the restaurant - a fancy-pants steakhouse - was not amused when I showed up with two sleepy, hungry children. But they perked up considerably when I ordered the surf and turf - yet another sign of my deterioration. Who exactly is going to PAY for that surf and turf you ask ? Good Question. I will have to get back to you on that. In the meantime let's just say AMEX.

But you know, it doesn't just end there, with the poor judgement and impulsive spending.....oh no.

Today I actually got out of the car, and headed inside...and the car was still running. I only noticed because I reached for my keys to lock the car as I stepped inside the house - and realized they were in the ignition. Seriously, was I not programmed to automatically lock my car, it would have stayed out there, running, until someone stole it or it ran out of gas.

Tonight I discovered that my cellphone is gone. G.O.N.E. And I am traveling. With 2 small children. Alone. In a rental car. And working remotely. I really do actually need that phone.

Now, I know that you are saying "Listen. Ten years ago, you got by JUST FINE without a cellphone. You will survive." And the answer to that is no. No I will not. I absolutely will not. I need my cellphone. It makes me feel safe. It makes me feel less isolated. It is my connection to the rest of the world and I FUCKING NEED IT OK ?!

Fuck.

So, I have to find my phone. I called it, of course. And it rings and rings which is good, because that means that where ever it IS, it's on. And ringing, apparently. So now I just have to call it, incessantly, until someone answers it or the battery dies. Any bets on which comes first ?