I-have an ongoing battle with genetic depression. When the heat is on, I can usually count on it lasting no longer than a month, but it has usually been less than that.
March 2004, after being diagnosed with ADD, a new medication was added to my already daily antidepressant. At first, this was a great thing...but now, looking back, I see that I've slowly slipped into a deep hole and have yet to find a way out of it.
Before things started getting bad, I had initiated some lofty projects and my art career was beginning to boom. Once the poop hit the fan, I was chest deep in commitments and found myself floundering.
There are pros and cons with having genetic depression. The pros are, because of my family history of depression, addiction, physical and chemical abuse, not to mention suicides...I can take comfort in the fact that what's wrong with me is the way my brain is wired (the depression runs in the family of my birth father). I also take comfort in the fact that medicine today, advancements in studies of the brain, etc., are much more advanced than when my grandmother lost her life to an overdose...not to mention my cousin and uncle...who else? I just don't know. My brave mother ended her marriage to my birth father when I was only 4 and saved us from God knows what.
The Cons for having genetic depression are feelings of being alone and misunderstood and never having a "good enough" reason for being so blue. I seem to have been the only daughter affected with this, so growing up I was never understood. (have great relationships with my mom and (adopted) dad now...they're awesome...my sister is a different story, I'm not sure that relationship will ever be saved.) With genetic depression, I never know what will trigger it. I believe that with most people, depression is triggered by a traumatic loss or event, stress, etc. Over the last year and a half, I never know from one morning to the next how I will feel when I wake up. Since this most recent episode crashed into my life during a crucial and very committed time in my art and family life, to say it wreaked havoc around me would be an understatement.
Most of the wonderful people who deal with me on an art level don't know me from Adam. One minute they see an artist who is passionate, has an updated website, has visionary ideas and projects underway. Suddenly, I disappear. "Where the hell is she? Why isn't she answering my emails?? Can't she at LEAST respect me enough to keep in touch? sheesh?!?!" I can completely understand these valid questions and feelings. What they don't know is that I am lucky not to be in tears every day. For no reason. I have no good excuses as to why my world has suddenly crumbled around me. I lock myself in my home, pretend to my kids and family that everything is alright...happy homemaker...and at the same time I'm looking for a way out. I would never want to kill myself...but is it possible to commit a botched suicide so that I could be committed to a hospital for several weeks? The ultimate escape for someone who can't imagine living one more day in this living hell inside my head.
If you can possibly imagine this...and I pray none of you have ever lived it....Can you understand why I'm choosing to not even open emails asking me where the Art4aCure decks are? "Where are my collage sheets, you no good, disrespectful artist? How can any decent person not follow through on commitments?" Once again, very legitimate questions and feelings...
I'm hanging on by my fingernails. Have been blessed with friends who have known me long before this has happened. People who really KNOW me....and love me. I can't even expect that the rest of you do...how do you know someone you've only seen in emails?
I am going to beat this thing and am actively working on it...I'm tired of saying I"m sorry for everything. When I'm no longer insane, I will respond to everyone...give refunds, all of it...
but right now...this minute, it's impossible. This minute, I'm just hoping to squeak through another day.
oxox
I've been feeling the burn lately in the stress department. Not major, pull my hair out kind of stress, just the hanging over my head, background music stress.
Hi! I've been flooded with emails from people involved in my chunkybook project as well as those who aren't...all of which are supportive and kind. *thanks* It seems this has become a common experience for people who have worked in group projects. There always seems to be at least one person who will somehow stir up some drama. Honestly, I've always tended to enjoy a little drama as long as I'm not one of the key players...it gives life a little flavor. In this recent situation ...being the KEY player, it's misery. Maybe I shouldn't take such entertainment value in future drama's I find myself a peeping tom to. I sat down a bit ago and wrote a letter to the participants of my chunky project on my thoughts about Swaps and personalities in general. I think I should post it here too, since many of you "outsiders" who haven't been privy to what the members have shared, can have a glimpse of how I really feel about it all. 
Something crappy happened to me yesterday. I'm involved at the moment with a chunky book swap that has been actually ongoing since late summer. There are approximately 200 artists involved with yours truly as the instigator/hostess. While we do have three incredible MALE artists....can you imagine a group of 197 women...dang, even 130 women working smoothly together for any period of time? I've worked full time in a law firm. There were only 5 office workers and the claws that were flying over someone using the last empty file folder was amazing. A dear friend of mine phoned me on Friday and told me I needed to get my act together and finish these books. Seems she'd been witness to many rantings from a certain artist in my group who was posting away from my group...ie..complaining about me in other groups I'm not a member of. There are actually 3 different groups of chunky books in this project and the first set (which was finished and mailed out in October) turned out to be somewhat nightmarishly stressful for me, with missing pages...'tho I'd been certain I'd done everything perfectly. I became somewhat gun shy about moving on the the second and third sets, deciding to wait until after the craziness of the holidays before jumping in again. My dear sweet friend, mentioned above, called to give me the gentle kick in the butt I needed...and it put me in motion. I sent an apology email to the artists about my procrastination. To make a long story short, crap ensued. Not from one of the male artists, btw. I'm so naive and just assume that people are kind and nice....then I come face to face with mean and it totally blows my socks off. As we've all heard, what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. I'm determined to learn from what happened yesterday....in fact, this is what I've learned....people who don't play fair are people I don't want to play with. There are people who need so badly to be in control, when they find themselves in a situation where they have none, there will be hell to pay. I would like for these people to stay away from me. Another thing I've learned...most people are good, kind, loving and understanding. Most people are actually so busy with their lives that they aren't on the rampage to belittle, undermine and hurt others around them. I can say with confidence, that I'm part of that group. Life is so short and unpredictible. I want to appreciate every minute of it....and still learn from the really hard, crappy parts.
I can pretty much fake it in public, things get a little touch & go when I'm driving in the car alone, tho. I was ready for a drastic change at the salon. Jill does my hair...she's the greatest. (we found out today that we're both going to see Sting and Annie Lennox tomorrow night). I told her to do something...anything...just different. She went a little conservative and stayed with the same color...(blonde) but gave me what she calls a "sassy" hair cut. I'm really needing sassy right now...It's cute...shorter but I like it. :) I bought two new books...(I'm a book whore, I'm afraid...would do anything for them! I hoard them the way Gollum hoards magic rings.) The books are 
Oooh, the wonderful 70's. Here I am with my dad. I was 9 years old and we were heading to the Brownie Father Daughter banquet. You might not know by looking, but things were not as they seemed in this photo. My mom and this dad were married two years before...(actually this WAS...no longer IS....my step dad..now he's my REAL Dad). We made it official my 8th or 9th grade year..he adopted my sister and I, thus changing our last names from Woods to Willis...so, he IS officially THE DAD. :) I am more than thrilled beyond belief that my wonderful father and I are close. I adore him and would give him everything I am. He and mom are now retired in North Carolina, braving hurricane scares, living in their ultimate dream house, fishing *dad*, antiquing *mom*, gardening, eating out, loving life. I couldn't be happier for them. My dad and I have gotten closer than we've ever been over the last 4 years....I turned 40 in March of this year. I'll never forget, a few years ago, we were talking on instant messenger and he called me "sweetie". I didn't say anything, but I cried....he'd never ever called me that before. He began phoning me for the first time in my life. A few months after the first "sweetie", we were online again and he typed it again..."sweetie". I spoke up and typed..."hey, you called me sweetie." He said, "I know, it's the second time." Amazing ...it was such a big deal to me, I never realized that he'd actually know it was just the second time in our lives we shared that connection...but he did. Things were different in my childhood. My dad married a woman with two little girls. I was in 1st grade, my sister in second. We had gone through a horrendous childhood before we'd ventured into a new life with our new dad. He had never had kids before...knew nothing about what to do with two little girls. We, on the other hand had been born with a dad who was physically and emotionally abusive. I've blocked out many of the memories but I do remember waiting in the car as 1st dad walked mom into the hospital after breaking her hand. I remember my mothers tears, my sister being locked out in the backyard as we watched through the sliding glass door...she wasn't allowed back in until she went down the slide backwards the way I had earlier. I'll never forget it...my mom hysterically crying inside and me looking through that glass door as this little 5 year old sat swinging in the dark....all by herself...not allowed in. We left the next morning...the three girls. It was the last straw, as mama was willing to stay while being abused, but refused to allow us to suffer too. We moved into a very poor neighborhood, in an apartment complex in Poly, Texas. It's amazing that my memory is such crap now, but I can remember so vividly my life in those apartments. Mama and dad started dating during this time. *she's Mom now...but was ONLY mama as I grew up...I'm from texas...all kids called their moms mama. :)* By the time they got together, I'd survived a physically & emotionally abusive father and had spent 3 years being sexually abused in daycare center run by an older couple. "Uncle JoJo" was someone I trusted. Not a good thing, I learned...Men BAD...I never wanted to trust one again. I was not, in any way, shape or form ready to trust any man. My new dad tried to be encouraging, he really tried to bring me in...I was petrified. I'm sure it looked to him like I was just this pain in the ass kid who didn't want to share her mama...let's not forget, he was a young man in his late 20's. The fear of men haunted me throughout my childhood. It really had nothing at all to do with Dad...he was wonderful...I'd just never known a man in my entire 6 years before meeting him who would not hurt me or my mother & sister. My sister warmed up to him immediately, as was her way. She and dad formed an instant bond that is strong to this day. I, on the other hand was scared, reserved and lost my chance for love from the begining...he tried, I didn't reciprocate....I was a pain in the ass...he worked like a dog to support a new wife and kids that weren't even his...and the youngest one who didn't appreciate one ioda of what he did for her. It was a damned relationship from the start. I know that he has no idea that I would sit in the backseat of the car...even as old as 16 years....if my mom wasn't with us...if it was just Dad and myself or even is my sister was in the car. I would sit in the backseat in a panic. I would work out the plan in my head..."okay, if he pulls into the woods to hurt me, I will run the opposite way and get out as quick as I can...I will look for a big rock, a huge stick..anything to protect myself...I will make myself safe." I didn't just do this with my dad...I had these same plans worked out when I was left alone with any man. This was a major, personal issue when husbands would take me home after babysitting. I babysat throughout my early teens, as most kids do...and I would pray, every time..."please let the mom take me home...please, please" In most cases, it was the dad...and I would grip that door handle, having planned my escape, my leap from the car, my way to save myself. I'd eventually arrive home with my heart pounding and a $6 dollar check after spending 10 hours babysitting two of the biggest brats in town. My dad has no idea how much I wanted and needed him while I was growing up. How hard it was for me to watch him with my sister...I was always the odd man out. Recently, after attending several sessions with an ADD therapist, (my daughter and I were both diagnosed this year) I spoke just a little about the conflict my dad and I had during my childhood. He said, "Tracy, it's hard for a BLOOD relative to love an ADD kid...it's almost impossible for a step parent to deal with." You have no idea what those words meant to me. Even tho I couldn't help the fact that I was an ADD kid...it made me feel better to know that there was a reason he had a hard time being in the same room with me. I'm reliving this all, all over again, as of late. My youngest daughter and my husband are in a battle. He has no idea how painful this is for me and how I am actually having to live the rejection, the battles, the insecurity a little girl faces by not being unconditionally loved by her father. I remember in the midst of my struggles of coming to terms with my childhood after my own daughters were born, I told my therapist..."He was the adult! Of course I was a pain in the ass....but he was the adult. Isn't the parent REQUIRED to love?? Kids will grow up...they will mature...what the hell is the parent's excuse??? I talked to kem the other night...I'm literally at my breaking point with everything. I told him that he and kimber were going to have to get together and work this out. I have NOTHING left in me for being the mediator. I can no longer go to bed with bitching from either of them and waking up again with their bitching about each other. I'm sick of it...I can't handle my own life at the moment, I will go right over that deep end having to be responsible for their conflicts. I talked to my sweet mother about it this week. She is worried about me. She knows I'm emotional...she knows what I'm going through...seems she is having to relive what it's like being a mother caught between a husband and daughter she adores. She said that I needed to remember that Kem needs me more than ever...that he is feeling unappreciated by kimber and I need to go out of my way to make him feel good, validated, loved. My thoughts? Where do I find the energy to mother a grown man, two kids and myself when I have nothing left? I'm at a loss. When will it be time for people to take care of me? 
Another productive but very emotional day. I'm exhausted. My emotions have always been a mystery to me and never cease to be a source of wonder to me...(hubby wonders quite a bit about them too). I've been in near tears for 4 days now...actually either near tears or in tears. It's different than depression I've known before, I feel no need to stay in bed all day...(tho the thought of doing that sounds quite nice on days like these) but the tiniest thing will just make me cry. I realized last night (after getting my feelings hurt by something) that I'd had my feelings hurt by people I loved 4 times in 3 days....I knew, then, that it wasn't those friends, it was ME...being sensitive about things that would have never crossed my mind normally...so, here's my dilema, I totally KNOW that my feelings should not be hurt....that the friends in question totally love me and are just incredible....the problem is, since I'm still so emotional, whenever I think of the specific thing that hurt my feelings...I totally break down and cry all over again. My feelings are still hurt and I know they shouldn't be. Does this sound like menopause? Blah! oxox 
