My beloved husband has just survived a man’s worst nightmare…the cold. Ok, ok, he was sicker than simply a cold, treated for an “upper respiratory infection”, but as his doting wife, I wanted at least one opportunity to poke fun at the “man flu”! He was down and out of commission for a week and was itching to get out this weekend for some fun. The younger SOMH was with us this weekend so I decided we would go to an NHL game. That was a very, very short-lived idea when one “cheap” seat was more than our weekly grocery budget. But I’ve never been to a hockey game and now that the thought seed was planted, it grew to an obsession.
Fortunately we have an AHL team, the Hershey Bears, a short distance away and those tickets were much more reasonably priced. So I surprised the boys with a night of Defending the Den complete with soggy arena burgers and fries that cost almost more than the tickets.
Having never been to a hockey game, I had a great time. I had my SOHM on one side and he explained rules and such. I understand hockey, but sometimes the game moves too fast and I need a verbal replay/explanation. I found myself holding my breath during play and have little left of my voice. I squealed with glee every time the puck slammed into the plexiglass or players slammed each other into the wall. The game went in shootout and I was on the edge on my too-small seat. I’m thinking its time to give up boxing and see if I can still handle myself on ice skates. GRRRRR!
I love that we love sports and am looking forward to baseball season staring next week.
A high school classmate of mine is dead. Gunshot to the head 😢. She battled depression, anxiety and probably other mental issues. We had lost touch over the years but kept up with each other’s lives via Facebook. She aired a lot (if not everything) on Facebook. She shared the kind of posts that made you cringe because they either revealed way too much personal information or seemed only to beg for a validating response. When I moved home, during one of her really down days, I messaged her privately with my cell phone number and asked her to meet me for coffee. I never heard back.
She was medicated. She was married. A mother. A grandmother. A day care provider that seemed to get so much joy from the children she cared for.
I am unable to recall many personal interactions with her in high school. Her name and face were familiar, but we were not close. Not then…not now. But her posts haunt me. I’ve been there. I’ve tossed out posts that could only be responded to with “no, no you look beautiful” or “he doesn’t deserve you” or “cheer up, the sun will come out tomorrow”.
I guess her death hits me hard because that could have been me. Depression is ugly. She was unhappy. I hurt for her husband. I don’t know him. I don’t know their relationship. I do know they were married for more than 20 years. I hurt for her boys who are only starting their own families and feel sad for the grandchildren who lost their “Nana”.
I know depression takes a toll on everyone. Facebook can be an evil place too. Shocked friends and classmates are tossing out accusations and right or wrong this isn’t the time or forum. In my opinion that is. Hindsight is always 20/20.
I was never suicidal, alhamdulillah. But I’ve been so tired I don’t want to fight anymore. During this sad time, I count my blessings for all that I have…my husband, daughters, sister, father, stepsons and friends. I am thankful that I found a doctor that saw through my determined no-medication wall, and took a firm stance to get me back on it. I am thankful for the years of counseling that taught me to understand my personality and to accept my quirks as just that…quirks. Not faults. I have the most supportive and loving husband and best friend who will patronize me with validation until I burst into hysterics. For my sister who is my safest of all safe places, my devil’s advocate, who will never tell me what I want to hear. My father who listens (and then calls my sister in a panic) and my beautiful, amazing daughters who are my friends as much as they are my children. And I have my faith…I believe in a merciful God who is forgiving of my faults. He makes me want to please Him. To try harder to better myself in all areas in my life.
So with all that said, I pray that my former classmate is at peace. I pray for her family. I thank her for bringing me awareness during this sad time that I am blessed in even more ways than I realized.
Tonight I made my first rotisserie chicken on this ancient electric rotisserie I found in my husband’s garage when I moved in. It was in an old plastic trash bag on the shelf near the meat slicer. I took it down, gave it a good clean up and when I exhausted my search online for a manual (yes, it is that old), I tested it and it still worked.
So, I mixed some spices together for a dry rub, trussed a small chicken (it was just the two of us for dinner) and set it to rotisserie-ing. I made some stuffing and corn for sides and chicken stock spiced up and thickened with some powdered potatoes for gravy. My husband was extremely complimentary of the meal. He knows my need for validation and humors me (very well).
Now, I know chicken and turkey do something with tryptophan and that in turn affects serotonin. As I was cleaning up the dishes and putting away the leftovers, I felt a rush of sorts. A warmth in my belly. Normally this is a very good feeling, I’m sure you would agree. But suddenly I had tears in my eyes and started fretting over whether or not I’m a good wife…do I do enough…is he happy with me…and the thoughts overwhelmed me. These stupid thoughts, stupid, stupid feelings of insecurity and low self-worth, as usual, all happens in a few seconds…there is no time to regroup before it consumes me. I don’t know what to do about them. I have to blog about it because anyone I actually tell this to has the same response – don’t. I thought the serotonin release makes your relaxed and “happy”. Is it because I take the medication now? It truly caught me off guard tonight. That is all.