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There’s Bird Shit on my Car and My Husband Just Ate a Fly


This is my weekend. There is bird shit on my car that I keep hoping will disappear on its own and while taking a family walk this morning, a bug of some sort flew into my husband’s mouth and he ate it.
This is our typical weekend.
It may sound strange but this is our life. While I pop my pills for my depression and anxiety, we try to lead as normal a life as possible. This is not always easy for any of us but we give it the good old college try. As I struggle with my issues, life does go on, not just for me but for my husband and our four-year-old daughter. We try to keep things simple, yet fun. We had a lovely play date over lunch with wonderful friends and things could not have been more normal. The kids were bouncing off of the walls, literally, and the adults were only slightly paying attention. It kept my mind busy and I could enjoy being with others. It was a win-win-win for our family as each of us enjoyed it. 
This was especially nice since I just started another new medication last night (when will I have the right cocktail already???) and I was feeling a bit odd this morning as a result. I am still hopeful that this medication will add the right mix to my other meds to finally yank me out of this depression. So, after a phone call to check in with my shrink, I went out to get an oil change for my car. Now, you can’t get more normal than that, right? I was happy not to have to wait and was in and out quickly. But then what? What was the next structured plan for the day? 
We did not have one. This is when I become a little jumpy: can’t sit still, need to do something to keep busy. I am very lucky that my daughter can ground me at these times when I feel I don’t have control. Her asking to play a game on my phone was calming to me. Strange, I know! 
As we make our dinner plans, (take-out, of course! We have no food at this point in the week, nor do we have any napkins, so paper towels it is!) my intention is to enjoy the evening. It will be “ordinary” as there will be no bird shit to think of or flies going into anyone’s mouth, but it will be “our” night. I am with the two people whom I love the most.
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Weekly Routines

Every week I take a drive to the Boston area, spend the night at my parents’ home and see my psychiatrist bright and early the next morning. I have been doing this for several weeks now and will continue to so for many weeks to come.

This is now part of my routine and this is how it goes:

1. I leave work on Thursday and drive the hour and twenty minutes to my childhood home. During this drive I increase the volume on the radio and work hard at staying awake. I am tired from being depressed and I am tired from the medications, so I make sure I am alert. I also take advantage of driving alone. I love having my daughter in the car with me but it is a nice break from millions of questions from my beloved four year old. I think about things I want to talk about with my shrink the next day.

2. I arrive at my parents’ house and they immediately want to feed me. OK, why not! My mom has already asked me days prior about what I will want for dinner. My answer is usually “anything” as I do not want to have her “work” for me. So, I am well fed not just with dinner but with a special dessert (cookies, brownies…) and I am spoiled and taken care of for one night. I don’t even mind watching TV with them at night, even thought the volume is loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear! I am able to just relax.

3. The next morning I am up at 6 AM and out the door at 6:30 AM to see my shrink. We continue to work on my medications which has proven more difficult than I thought. Increase one week but too many side effects, try another med but more intense side effects; increase, decrease, increase and add another med. That’s where we are at now.

4. I leave her office feeling loaded as if my head is so full I will begin to ascend like a balloon into the air. This is when I make my Starbucks pit-stop and drive back to get to work. This is the time I decompress (as anyone in therapy knows, those moments post-session are full of thoughts, questions, sadness, upset, etc.). My drive back is still themed with loud music but I am able to process what was just discussed and wrap it up so I can return to my already in progress life. When I lived in NYC I was lucky as I was able to walk the 2 miles home after each session with my then therapist and that was truly the best way to decompress.

This is now my routine and I think I am used to it at this point. I can take care of myself and I know that there will be a light at the end of the tunnel. My life will be even better which will light the lives of my husband and daughter, as well.