Wrapping Up? (It Gets Better Part 4)

I closed Part 3 by telling you "how badly my mom was doing began to really hit me," complete with that link. If you haven't read it yet, you can click over and do that now -- it's essentially Part 4 of this story, and this post labeled Part 4 should be Part 5. Not confusing at all!

But I didn't say in that link how the trip down to California to say goodbye to my mom went, because it hadn't happened yet.

I absolutely love this picture. Somehow, amazingly, it shows joy and laughter as I sit by my mom, who's dying, and by my baby, who by the grace of God is whole and healthy even though her organs are in weird places.


Now, that was almost a year ago.

I wish it were easier to end this story, but I also don't. Because I wish I could tell you how I'm feeling and doing these days, wrap up my story with a pretty bow and clear lesson, but it's... it's life. Hallelujah, it's life.

There's huge relief in understanding your narrative and naming your pain in depression, but it's even better to not be majorly depressed, even if it can be hard to put words to when everything is less dramatic! Even if it isn't easy to see where you are in what story, even if it feels all mixed up and down then up again and "How are you?" stumps you.

Granted, my ups and downs can be pretty extreme -- sometimes my kids trigger feelings from the chaos of my own childhood, I explode, and everything is awful. But I still have my therapist and my tools, and these extremes are beginning to feel more like the issues I've always battled, and less like PPD.

I'm still taking Zoloft, or more accurately, Sertraline, its generic. My kids are still littles -- 20 months, three years old, six years old. My mom is, quite frankly, still dying. She's bedridden but relatively stable now, so my emotions have come to an uneasy truce with it for the time being. Though at any moment there could be a very quick decline.

If it's possible, I am both doing so much better these days, and yet I'm still "in it" with you. I want to tell you about all the things that have helped me, big and little, in the hopes that some of them will help you, too.

I'm a peer, not a professional, but you are not alone. Pull up a chair, I'll make some tea, and I won't ask you how you're doing unless you want me to. Welcome.