Gratitude, Comment Love and Something Entirely Unrelated

Confession: The revision history on my last post is RIDICULOUS. I edited it over and over and just could not get it right.

It actually started off as my blogging anniversary post, and it was directed at those of you who come here and read and offer support. I wanted to tell you how much that has meant to me over the last year. How much it means to me now.

Writing about something as personal as depression—especially in the moment, as so many of my posts were—feels incredibly vulnerable. I wrote about those things because I needed to have them live somewhere other than inside my own head, but there was also a part of me that wanted to hear I wasn’t alone. And wow, am I ever NOT ALONE.

starling-flock

Image credit: Joffley on Flickr

Over the last year I have come to realize just how many people struggle with depression and anxiety, and I hate that there are just SO many. But I love that there is so much support out there too, and that it’s becoming more and more okay to admit to these things.

So in the end, after realizing that it simply wasn’t working, I wrote something more simple for that anniversary post and said what I really wanted to say, which is: Thank you for loving me. But I didn’t give up on the rabbit.

I played around with that post some more and eventually decided it was actually about something different. And then it got to a point where I thought it was good enough, so I published it.

And then you all took over.

I’ve had so many incredible comments and messages and re-tweets on that post. It seems I struck a nerve. I keep trying to respond to those comments, and I will, but right now I don’t really know what to say. It’s all making me feel a bit weepy.

So again: Thank you.

On a related note, if you want another glimpse into why it’s so important for us to write about depression and have it be acceptable, go and read the latest post by The Bloggess. Jenny, if you don’t know her already, is absolutely, stunningly hilarious. But she also deals with mental illness. She writes about that pretty openly, but this post really blows the doors off. Go, read, and give her some love.

And now sometimes entirely unrelated…

I wasn’t actually planning to post today because I signed up for NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) for January, where the goal is to write a post a day for the whole month. And after I signed up I decided that was crazy, so I intended to cheat (sort of) and just direct you to my Just.Be.Enough. post today. But then you were all so nice and I kind of got sidetracked writing this.

Anyway… I did write a post for Just.Be.Enough. today and it’s about Spanx. See? Entirely unrelated.

I’m going to close comments on this one, so please either visit me at Just.Be.Enough. or go and give Jenny some comment love. (She’s already got over 1,000 comments, but what’s a movement if not something that really takes off?)

R xo

One Year Later

It feels as though the post on my one-year anniversary of blogging ought to be profound. I started off trying to write something like that, but it’s not working and will be relegated to another post, another day.

New Year’s Day usually feels quiet to me. A calm before the bustle of January, when the it’s-the-holidays excuses for being lazy or skipping out early no longer work. That’s what January 1, 2011 felt like to me.

I have a vivid mental picture of that day, which I don’t have for most New Year’s Days (tending, as they do, to all blur together). I had spent New Year’s Eve 2010 in the usual fashion—with Chinese food followed by blissful nothingness—with one critical difference. That last night of 2010 I sat on the floor of our living room, in front of the fire, and set up a blog in WordPress.

It was totally unplanned. I had been thinking about writing about my experience with motherhood, but I hadn’t really thought about it being so specifically about PPD and I really hadn’t thought about getting into blogging. And yet there I was with wordpress.com on the screen in front of me and before I knew it this blog was born.

It was a short time later that I became Farewell Stranger, but at that time I was simply MamaRobinJ. I had a basic blog and a Twitter account (because I didn’t want to use my professional Twitter persona for this very personal project) and I decided I was going to do it. And then I went to bed.

The next day, during the quietness that was January 1, 2011, I got a direct message on my other Twitter account from my boss. “MamaRobinJ is a great idea,” he said. And my heart exploded in holy-shit-fuelled adrenaline.

That was the start of what became a slow progression towards having it be okay to talk about this. I would say a year later I’m 95% there – it’s still not something I bring up early on when I meet new people, and the people at my new job don’t know this about me yet (unless they’ve Googled me, in which case hi!). But it’s no longer an oh-God-please-don’t-find-my-blog sort of thing.

For I guess that’s the beauty of blogging, isn’t it? It can be whatever we want. If we want to be anonymous, we can. If we want to use it to say, “This is who I really am. This is my experience. Do you still love me?” we can.

One year later, this is who I really am. And not because I hid who I was, but because this blog, and those of you who have been with me during the last year, have allowed the protective shell I placed around myself to crack and let the light in.

One year later, this is who I really am. Because you still love me.

colorful-cupcakes

Image credit: ms.Tea on Flickr

So today, on this New Year’s Day that feels not quiet but alive with possibility, I wish to say thank you. Thank you for this last year. Thank you for loving me.

Have a cupcake.

 

To Make an End is to Make a Beginning

“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.”

~T.S. Eliot

2011-2012-wave

Happy New Year. Wishing you all good things in 2012.

Thank you for being with me this year.

R xo

10 steps to a chaotic Christmas

Step 1: Move into a new house in a new city less than a month before Christmas. Unpack as much as you can and then stuff everything else into the basement and the spare bedroom upstairs. Pray no one needs to get in there.

Step 2: Agree to host Christmas for most of your family because you’re the house that makes the most sense this year.

Christmas-dinner-table-2011

Step 3: Start a new job the week before Christmas, making it tough to get all those last-minute errands done.

Step 4: Forego your usual practice of making many, many lists and figure it will all work out.

Step 5:  Make one exception to Step 4 and hastily make a grocery list the morning of the 23rd before you go to work. That way your husband can do the shopping and you’ll still have time to pick up all the things you forgot.

Step 6: Hide stocking stuffers and gifts in various places around your new house. Having to look for them at 9:00 on Christmas Eve so you can finish wrapping will provide a different sort of orientation to the house you’ve only lived in for 3 weeks.

Christmas-present-under-tree

Step 7: Start cooking on Christmas Eve morning by just doing things as the thought occurs to you. Send someone down the street to the grocery store for the items you forgot in your half-awake list-making state.

Step 7 1/2: Thank your lucky stars Santa’s helpers are there to pitch in.

Santas-helpers-aprons

Step 8: Realize you forgot some of the presents you meant to get, are short on some critical elements of Christmas Dinner (pickles) and neglected to appropriately plan for the vegetables you wanted to serve.

Step 9: Decide that this is the “wing it” Christmas and none of the above issues matter. This philosophy will be reinforced when your three-year-old opens his stocking on Christmas morning with a face lit up with joy and says, “He came! Santa knows me!”

stockings_2011

Step 10: Have a very merry chaotic Christmas with great family and the best damn turkey ever cooked in a brand-new-to-us oven. (And we didn’t set fire to the turkey like we did the first year in our old house!)

Christmas-tree_2011

I hope your holiday was great and you’re getting a little down time before January comes and things ramp up again.

 

[Pictures #2 and 5 credited to my sister, the other iPhone addict.]

Farewell to 2011 in Photos: Link-up

Christmas is over and a new year is nearing. As much as I love Christmas, I also really love this time of year when the holiday madness is over and the week-between lull starts. The end-of-year lists and retrospectives appear, offering a chance to remember what was and think about what will be before normal life resumes and the daily what-is takes over.

So let’s do some retrospecting, shall we?

 

Pick a picture (or a couple, if you wish) for each month of the year, post, and link up with me to say farewell to 2011 in photos. (You can focus on the photography or the memories – up to you.)

One winner will be randomly chosen from those who link up to receive a complimentary registration in the Brave Girls Club’s Soul Restoration I class.

January

bird-on-a-wire

This is the only photo I’m including that’s not mine (credit underactive on Flickr) but it’s what best represents January to me. January 2011 is when I started this blog and shortly after that I started using this image in my header. I’ve had 2 other designs since, but this one is still “my” image. It remains my wallpaper on my laptop and I’m still getting gifts inspired by this image. I love it, and it will always represent this blog and what it has come to mean to me.

February

airplane-deicing

I took this photo as we were preparing to take off for Toronto from my hometown, which doesn’t get a lot of snow so de-icing is a rare requirement. This picture is not about the snow, though. It’s about the trip, and not because it was memorable but because it wasn’t. In thinking about February I knew I had travelled for work but I couldn’t remember where I’d gone. And even now, I barely remember that trip, except that I forgot to pack underwear. It was the start of my realizing something within me had fundamentally changed over the last couple of years, and not in a good way.

March
antenatal-unit

The happenings in March—including this visit to the antenatal assessment unit—were the precursor to what happened next and what my year has become. On the current path of my life this yellow hallway was the start line. It was where I went to see the psychiatrist who put me on the medication that almost killed me (and that, incidentally, also probably saved my life). I will never, ever forget this hallway.

Aprilguest-bedroom

In April I plummeted. Crashed and burned. And this room is where I ended up. No, not a psych ward, but the guest room of a friend’s place. She was out of town and kindly offered me a sanctuary when I badly needed to run and hide. At the beginning of a 4 1/2 month leave from work I spent a few days here, awake late into the nights before finally taking a shrink-prescribed pill that knocked me out completely for at least 12 hours. When I think of the me who spent time in this room I barely recognize her. This grainy picture from my BlackBerry isn’t one I’ve published before, but I took it because I wanted to remember this room. When I look at this picture now all I feel is unending gratitude for that time and space and my friend’s generosity.

May

tree-silhouette

By May I had scraped myself up off the floor and was riding a yo-yo. Yearning to be better but mostly bouncing between desperate depression and feeling nothing. I walked. A lot. On the day I took this picture I decided it was time to start looking at what was around me again.

June

Tiger_zoo

June was the start of the road that let me where I am now, though I didn’t know it at the time. “We could move to Alberta,” my husband said, and shortly after that we went to Calgary for my sister’s graduation. This picture was taken at the Calgary Zoo and I remember enjoying the visit while one question reverberated around my brain: “Am I ever going to feel better?” And yet, at the same time, I started to really see myself again.

July

toddler-mini-golf

In July I had had enough. Enough of being on leave from work, enough of being drugged all the time and enough of feeling like a mental patient. I started to explore going back to work, but my psychiatrist wasn’t so keen. I was annoyed at the time but when I look at this picture I remember that she was right. My husband took Connor out one day so I could have some quiet time alone in the house. It was badly needed, but when he sent me this picture all I could think was that I should be there with them. But at that point early in the month I just couldn’t. When I look at this picture I think about how I missed out on so much time with my son. Not just months, but years.

August

Group at Sparklecorn at BlogHer '11

By August I had taken a stand. I fired my psychiatrist, weaned myself off the sedating anti-anxiety medication (note: don’t try that at home – much better to have a doctor’s advice and know what you’re getting in to), and scheduled my return to work. But first I went to BlogHer ’11. It was totally amazing – incredible and life-changing.

I got myself back.

(Clockwise: Lizz, Galit, Natalie, me, Jessica, Mad Woman at BlogHer in San Diego)

September

blue streaked hair

In September I turned the focus back on others and streaked my hair blue in support of suicide prevention (and my friend Cristi, who is tireless in her efforts to raise awareness). In the end, there were many #bluebloggers who did this, including my mother.

first day of preschool

But that’s not all! September was so monumental it deserves two photos. This is my baby on his first day of preschool. I just love this kid.

October

House for sale sign

In October we did it – after a month of prep work we put our house up for sale so we could move to Calgary. It sold in less than two weeks and we haven’t looked back.

November

our new house

In November we made a quick trek here, bought a house in one day and moved into it less than a month later. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing, right?. (Smart cookie, that Helen Keller was.)

December

fun in the snow

And here we are at the end of the year, living in snow and sunshine. Our whole world has shifted and we couldn’t be happier about it.

 

As I sit here now, late on the evening of Christmas Day, I will admit to looking back at this year with some emotion. I’m aware every day, around every turn and with every breath of crisp winter air, that life is different. That I am different. That I’m not where I thought I would be. But it’s been a while since I really looked back at where I was.

2011 was hard. Gut-wrenching, tear-stained, and really, really hard. But ultimately oh so good. As we finish out this year I’m so, so grateful and unbelievably excited about what 2012 will bring.

What about you?