Tuesday, November 05, 2013

Not Today

“There is only one god and his name is Death. And there is only one thing we say to Death: “Not today.” 
― George R.R. MartinA Game of Thrones

I love this quote. I think it is my favorite line from this whole series and, if you're watching it, you know there are some really, really excellent lines. Like anything that comes out of Tyrion's mouth.

So this may be disjointed because there are things I feel and there are things I want so say and there are things I can't say and they're all competing in my head. The main thought and concern is how desperately, painfully unhappy my Bugabooga has been. Depression is a motherfucker and it has a tight grip on her at this point in time and I hate it more than anything else. More than snow and the inventor of Crocs, more than people who hurt animals and even more than 50 Shades of Grey. But you know what? Depression doesn't give a shit. It's nastier than Honey Badger, who at least offers some entertainment and inspiration to be a Bad Ass. Depression just takes over and ignores all attempts to thwart it.

What depression is really good at is creating barriers between the depressed person and anyone who cares about her. This is what it has done with D. No matter what I say, or how hard I try, or how much I will her to be better, none of that gets through. She's under the invisible shield of depression. Except it doesn't work the way that a shield should, it doesn't protect her. It hurts her. It lies to her. It tells her she's worthless and useless and dumb and a waste. None of which is even remotely true. She's beautiful and talented and wonderful. She's loving and sensitive and this is how it takes advantage of her. Damn it.

And then there is my own depression, which acts more like a door. It shuts me in, and turns down the blinds and makes it darker for a while. Only doors can be opened, even if I have to pick at the lock for a while to get out. I think, however, that it relishes in the fact that it takes me away from her for a little bit, that it uses up the energy I need to help her. I hate it for that.

If the universe worked in the way that it should, D would feel better because of the simple fact that I love her enough to make it so. I'm the mommy, I'm supposed to make the boo-boos go away. I lost that power a long time ago and I desperately want it back. It's my right and privilege as a mother to make my child's life better.

But here is the thing I have learned, which was reinforced yesterday. We are not alone. If you are reading this, and can relate to what I am saying at all, and if you take nothing else away from my rambling, know that you are not alone. You are not alone in how you feel and you are not alone in that you have to go through this on your own. The thing is, that when you ask for help, you get it. I can ask for a million dollars or a pony until I'm blue in the face and it isn't going to happen but if I ask for help, it's there. It just is. In the form of friends, family, discovering that other people feel this way or have felt this way, or those who can't even comprehend what you're trying to say but still care and want to help and offer to help and do help.

I think D feels like she is the only one affected by her depression. She's not. It breaks me into a thousand pieces on a nearly daily basis knowing that she is so miserable and I can't change it. And then I feel like since I'm her mom, that it's up to me and me alone to Fix It and help her but that gets overwhelming and I get tired and I want to stop even though I know I can't. So I ask for help. She asks for help. And what an hour ago seemed insurmountable suddenly feels a little more manageable. Even if it's just for a little while. An hour, a day. It's enough to keep me going. It helps her stop crying for a little while.

It helps us say, in the loudest voice we can manage in that moment, Not today.


The Martini Chronicles. Design by Exotic Mommie. Illustraion By DaPino