Almost Divorce- PJ’s-Lola’s (my) Depression

7:00 Blank Page

Later  in the Morning:  Not  sure how this got published. To be honest I am surprised I havent accidentally published something early prior to this. It’s still in my head and apparently I planned to get it out onto paper by 7am this morning.

Um…yeah…  that didn’t  happen. 🙂

It’s a busy work day ,  but I’ll get it updated before I go to bed tonight.

Have a great day lovies, check back much later today !

Best,

Lola

7:50 PM  

Sitting down to finish this, I’ll put a closing statement at the end in case any of you wander in while I’m still writing and editing.

  I just got off the phone with Shorty.  I told her I needed to go write about Depression and  she said I  tricked her into making her coffee this morning.    We spent most of the conversation laughing and making fun of last Sat night and this was near the end of the conversation.  I teasingly told  her I was making an avante garde statement about the emptiness  and nothingness of depression.   She wasn’t buying it.   Even as I sit here writing this I wonder if I shouldn’t just go ahead and give you all this Thursday’s post a few days early. It’s been done since Sunday and next week’s is almost ready as well, though it won’t be publishing on Thanksgiving.   I know this post didn’t get done because I’ve been pondering how to respectfully tackle this topic.  It is important to me that I  navigate this properly and that I feel my heart is in the right place while I do it.  This is the filter I try to apply to all of my writing to come across properly in spite of the rawness and intensity of some of  the things  I choose to  share with you.

In that vein, I’ll divulge first before I tackle PJ.

Lola’s (my)Depression

This story from prologue to finish talks pretty openly about my mental state at the time things were happening.  I wasn’t in a good place way before I met PJ, but I don’t know that I would call that depression.  I am just a few weeks past weaning off Wellbutrin.  I have been on Wellbutrin or something like it on and off since I had MiniMe…… dinner’s here……….. and we are back.  You can’t spit in this town and not hit a school, a fire station or a mother on an antidepressant.   I started taking them because I was pissed off all the time.  This seems to be how “depression” manifests in me. I have always called them my anti-bitch pills.   I’ve heard a lot of other Mother’s say the same thing.  The battle we fight isn’t always one of grief depression, or can’t get out of bed or bathe or feed my kids depression; but rather, it’s OMFG if I have to get one more thing done against all of these daily obstacles and I have to repeat this how many fucking days in a row for the rest of my foreseeable future  I’m going to go postal on someone depression.   I’d like to try  to make a mothering version of the Chris Rock joke where he talks about ” I understand”, but I’d probably fuck the up the execution.   Some of us have  bodies that don’t make the right chemicals, I don’t think mine is one of those.  Right now I’m off the meds  after discussion with my PCP. But back when all of this was going on that was not the case.  Backs when this was going on I was up to Wellbutrin combined with Cymbalta.   I started the cocktail sometime in the early fall, shortly after Mother’s  Day I quit taking ALL of my meds.  At first it wasn’t on purpose, I’d forget, then notice I’d be especially emotional beyond whatever normal emotional was at the time.   So I’d do a better job of taking them and things would even out to normal emotional at the time.  The big issue with this was, normal emotional at the time, got worse and worse for me the more stress and calamity I brought into my life.   By sometime right after Mother’s day I felt that my poor  soul was at its maximum for managing of suckiness. It was SO BAD that I just wanted to be able to feel everything, if that even makes any sense.   I stopped taking  all my meds the week after I got back from  my weekend in  Texas.   ohhhh….noooo. wait.   I stopped taking them sometime in January and started back on the Wellbutrin only right after Mother’s day?  Hell, I’m not entirely sure.

The short point is I went off them for a time, then as I started to recognize that I  had some serious work to do to  center myself, I started back on the Wellbutrin. There were parts of this journey where I am almost numb with stress and grief.  Or maybe I was numbing the stress and grief.  I now can tell you that  I not only absolutely understand but have personally  had grief, pain, sadness, frustration, anger, confusion and shock to the point that when I cried it felt like my heart was trying to crack layer after layer of hardness open so it could let the pain out.  I have cried to the point of  moaning in  what I described in my journal as,   My sobs almost sound like sad orgasms. They are deep and emotional and breath stopping.   Later I figured out I was keening.   Orgasms of Sadness.  The intensity of the best thing you feel used to amp up the worst thing you feel.   I wrote this almost a month after he vanished.   Here is a mid-late August PJ quote  just so you know I meant everything I said.   At that time my heart was at how is that even possible.  At this time my heart is at  “It is what it is, so now what” .   

The mid range point  is I started back on my meds and to my journey of emotional stability well before PJ started his.  I made faster progress, so I was always the one ahead of the game.   We both knew this and it was part of the way we talked with each other.  I was the (mediocre) mentor of progress.   PJ and I were equals in self awareness of our issues.  I’ve talked before about how those were unpacked and   mutually reviewed.  This, in part, is how I came to know so many intimate things about PJ.   It is these intimate things, as well as the other minute details, that make it so hard for me to believe that all of what we went through was lies and manipulation.  Can you even imagine the amount of mental work that it would take to DO that?  I can’t.   The only kind of person capable of that kind of evil manipulation for nothing more than  free internet penis/pussy is a sociopath.  A sociopath could easily fake depression.  I have touched on this before, but I cannot out rightly tell you that I think PJ is a sociopath.  He might be.   He might also be a young, scared, what are you a fucking idiot, who made some really bad choices.   It doesn’t matter to me. I’m going to treat him the same way.  Hell, I’m probably treating him better now than I ever did then,  because I’m in a place of forgiveness.   I’m in a place of forgiveness where I can see my own mistakes and see more of what he may of felt.   I can not only see how he might of felt, but I can do that without losing my temper  or my confidence. most of the time.   I talk more about this in Thursday’s post; part of why I considered giving it to you early in place of this one.   And if he is a sociopath  he isn’t the first person to try to destroy me and fail.  It is natural for me to be curious about who  he really is. I’m ok with carrying that curiosity.  I’m thankful (#12) that it no longer consumes me.  That’s “what giving up gives you, where giving up takes you. I have and I’ve been”   means for me.  I only wish I’d given up sooner.  Not sooner before he vanished, sooner after he was gone. I’m a girl and this was my largest heartbreak.  I carry him with me  in the inner chambers with the others.  I’m content with that.

PJ’s depression will have to be another post Lovies, or I will simply do a better job of weaving it into the story where it applies.  Right now  I’m going to listen to the new Blink 182 Neighborhoods and play some Words  With Friends on Facebook.

Mwah ❤