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October 27, 2006
Friday Shuffle - The Scary, Spooky Ghost in the House Edition
It's Halloween Weekend. When, exactly, did Halloween turn into a holiday meriting an entire weekend? I'm guessing since the day retailers realized they could make a shitload of money by making every holiday seem really, really important. And that scares me. Kristina and I were bitching the other day about how Halloween has become this weekend event. It was so much fun when we were kids, and Halloween was that one weeknight when we could blow off school and stay out late. I know I always dreaded the years Halloween fell on Friday or Saturday because it was somewhat of a let-down.
Long before having Clara Jane, B. and I had looked forward to someday taking our kids to the Halloween shindig thrown by one of the local townships. They have a quaint little Main Street, and one night, all of the local shops open for trick-or-treaters. The nearby farmer's market holds costume contests and party games. We intended to finally go this year, until I realized it was five days before the actual holiday. Ridiculous!
Instead, we stayed home and made these:
Which illicited this response:
I'm sure we had a lot more fun carving the pumpkins than we would have had in the cold, trick-or-treating five days early.
I'm frightened by the number of miniature Reese's Peanut Butter Cups I've consumed in the past 24 hours. In fact, I'm frightened of all chocolate products, period, right now. And candy corn is scaring the fuck out of me.
And I'm terrified of the prospect of getting caught in post-World Series victory chaos tonight, but considering tonight is the only chance B. and I will have to go out for our birthday dinners with access to a free babysitter, I need to just get over that fear. I'm sure there will be wine, and that will make me brave.
But what's scaring me the most on these days leading up to Halloween? The book A Ghost in the House by Tracy Thompson has me damn near pissing the bed with fear every single night.
No, this isn't the typical horror novel. I don't do genre fiction, for the most part. This book is about something really, truly scary: mothers living with depression.
The scariest part is how much of myself I'm seeing in it.
A few weeks ago I had a follow-up with my doctor regarding the anxiety and depression problems that plagued me all summer. I told my doc that I was fine, and she was amazed at how well I looked, how happy I seemed. I didn't feel like I was being dishonest; I was conveying what I thought was the truth.
I've had depressions so bad that they've left me staring at the wall, silent, for hours, completely closed off from everyone and everything. I've had dpressions so bad that I seriously contemplated things I won't even say outloud. What's scary is, I've experienced that and come through it, but it's colored the way I look at depression. To me, now, that's what depression is - staring at the wall and wanting to die.
In reading this book, I've seen my day-to-day life on nearly every page, and it's haunting me. Keeping me awake at night. Things like the exhaustion and irritability that are daily presences in my life. The lethargy and lack of motivation. The feelings of extreme guilt that accompany the exaustion, irritability, lethargy and lack of motivation.
It's scary to read about how much motherhood has changed since our mothers were doing it, and how much more complex and hectic it is. Thompson writes about how our generation can't just shoo our kids outside to run the neighborhood with the other kids who've been shoo'd outside, and how that's hurting both moms and kids. These lives so many of us are leading where we have days without a moment to ourselves, our thoughts not offered the luxury of completion.
Today it took me an hour to fold two regular-sized loads of laundry. Because it's not folding laundry. It's folding laundry, pulling Clara Jane out of it, pulling the cat out of it, refolding the pajamas when Clara Jane unfolds them, pulling the cat out of the miniblinds, pulling Clara Jane out of the miniblinds, putting the clothes away, taking away the drawer Clara Jane has removed from B.'s nightstand and is using as a drum in the living room, listening to the fit that ensues when the drawer is taken away from her, putting away yet another pile of clothes that have been lying exactly where B. dumped them two days ago ...
No wonder I'm chronically exhausted, irritated, lethargic, and unmotivated. It would be one thing if events like the hour-long laundry-a-thon were isolated incidents, but they're not. It's a good example of what happens here all day, everyday.
I'm afraid that I'm going to fall off a cliff I can't even see if I'm not careful.
Anyway, I didn't intend for this to be a downer. I'm fine. Really. In fact, having read what I've read over the past few days I'm probably better than I was days ago when I was going through my days accepting my perpetual bad mood as being normal, thinking that as long as I wasn't completely shut off and wishing for death, I must be a-ok. I feel like this book might have enlightened me to something I would have missed otherwise. So what's next? I'm looking at what causes stress in my life and working to eliminate the stresses that are unneccesary. Some will be easy. Some won't. We shall see.
The shuffle is never stressful and it never steals furniture to use in its musical endeavours.
1. In My Time of Need - Ryan Adams
2. Hot in Herre - DJ Tiga and Kicks
3. The Good Part - Wilco
4. Yahweh - U2
5. Another Girl, Another Planet - The Replacements
6. Don't Be Afraid of the Dark - Robert Cray
7. They're Blind - The Replacements
8. Hope - REM
9. Angel - Kirsty MacColl
10. The Air Near My Fingers - White Stripes
I think Beatrice the iPod wants me to feel better.
Posted by Robin at October 27, 2006 03:20 PM
Comments
Chin up, girly -- it'll get better, and it's better now than before, right?
(I thought depression was staring out the window for days watching the birds and squirrels. Then I realized the a subtle distinction: That was grief. Is this book a help, or a recognition of things past?)
Recognize the 'holiday' early, bring the little one on over to Pretty Town. In her costume!
Posted by: Mary at October 27, 2006 05:01 PM
Beatrice done good by you.
I read what you moms go through and I get more and more convinced that while I'm someone's caretaker - someone who won't get better and won't grow up and be independent someday - I still feel like I have it easier than moms because my husband doesn't get into the laundry nor does he get cranky if he doesn't have a nap (although I do) and he doesn't pitch fits or kick me. Robin, you and all other moms of wee ones have my utter amazement and my deep admiration.
Posted by: Dixie at October 27, 2006 05:10 PM
Oh...and those pumpkins and Clara Jane's face are awesome!
Posted by: Dixie at October 27, 2006 05:11 PM
I started suffering from anxiety after I stopped nursing, so I get it. Boy howdy (anyone remember Cream Magazine?) do I get it. And it gets better. The twos are the worst of it and then, suddenly, the child is not only potty-trained, but can go by herself. Soon enough, she will be able to "help" - give her a pile of washcloths to "fold". Bean now puts away all the washcloths and handtowels in her bathroom, all the kitchen towels, and a few other things. She feeds the dog with little prompting. Once she hit three, she started to be a contributing person in the family rather than just contributing to my being overwhelmed. Not that I don't get overwhelmed still, but it's much much better. So keep that in mind. No matter how bad it is now, it's always changing.
Posted by: liz at October 27, 2006 06:16 PM
I'm afraid to read that book. I love the pumpkins and CJ -- she has the greatest looks -- I can still call up her "spawn of the devil" look in my mind. Beatrice did indeed to good by you, shuffling up musical happiness.
Posted by: Katya at October 28, 2006 11:28 AM
sometimes it helps to read a book that can articulate something that you're feeling but isn't completely clear. i'm glad that you found that. i also found the section that you speak about insightful - about mamas shooing kids out into the great outdoors. i've gotten so hung up on how bad it is that kids don't play outside anymore, just for the kid's well-being, it never occured to me that it was more than that.
thing is, we shouldn't have to do this all alone. it takes a village. a village that is non-existant in this culture. i'm surprised that the depression rates aren't higher, actually.
but thinking back - there were plenty of 50's mamas popping little yellow pills, as they shooed.
me likkeee your punkins! i can't wait to meet cj. here photos crack me up everytime.
xoxoxoxoxox
Posted by: kara joy at October 28, 2006 03:38 PM
Being a parent to a toddler/preschooler (or two) is an impossible job. Being "chronically exhausted, irritated, lethargic, and unmotivated" pretty much sounds like me too and all of my friends in the same situation. I am holding on to the hope that it doesn't last and there are always the "pumpkin moments" to get you through. Hugs.
Posted by: Monica at November 1, 2006 07:36 PM
