{"id":5010,"date":"2015-05-26T13:50:25","date_gmt":"2015-05-26T17:50:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/admin.patheos.com\/blogs\/barefootandpregnant\/?p=5010"},"modified":"2015-05-26T22:08:02","modified_gmt":"2015-05-27T02:08:02","slug":"oh-hi-im-alive","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/barefootandpregnant\/2015\/05\/oh-hi-im-alive.html","title":{"rendered":"Oh Hi, I’m Alive"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<\/head>

So I\u2019m not dead or anything, in case you were wondering. I gather that my sudden and inexplicable absence from both the blog and facebook and <insert guilt here> my failure to respond to emails and even 99% of text messages has some people worried. I\u2019m not gonna lie, I kinda felt equal parts excruciatingly guilty and oddly comforted when the Anchoress called my husband at his office to make sure I was okay, since before that I was pretty sure that I could disappear from the face of the internet forever and everyone would be like<\/p>\n

\"BennyMeh\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Of course I realize that\u2019s a direct result of my overblown martyr complex, compounded by having the emotional stability of a 14 year old OneDirection fan, but also I have some depression\/anxiety issues which I despise talking about. The only thing worse than hating yourself and feeling really sorry for yourself about it is when other people for sorry for you, too. Then you get to hate yourself all over again for being so pathetic. It\u2019s super fun.<\/p>\n

Anyway, when I got into a bit of a funk after Easter I chose not to go down that road again. Instead, I made the mature decision to ignore the creeping depression, then deny it, then drink whiskey on the couch by myself every night while watching Firefly<\/em>.<\/p>\n

For obvious reasons I chose not to blog about my adventure into the chorus of a Pogues song, but since nothing else seemed worth writing about, I just stopped writing. I tried to sit down a few times and make sense of things, but every time I read my words back to myself I thought, \u201cJeez, Calah, you are a such a gorram moron<\/em>. Seriously, no one wants to read this shit. Get over yourself and stop pretending that anyone cares about your stupid opinions or how much of a crap mother you are.\u201d And then instead of getting over myself, I had a good, long pity party for one.<\/p>\n

\"bella-s-depression-o\"<\/a>
It was like this, except with a lot more palm trees and whiskey and a lot less Kristen Stewart (thank God)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Needless to say, it got old fast. Well, to be honest, getting up at 6:30 every morning with a wicked hangover and being snappy and short with my kids got old fast. It just made me feel even more guilty, which\u00a0 made me hate myself even more, which led to even more whiskey nights\u2026etc. You get the picture.<\/p>\n

(This is not a fun way to live, by the way. In case you\u2019re ever under the impression that your uncle Joe gets smashed every night because he just really likes to party, let me disabuse you of that notion. No one<\/em> likes to get smashed every night.)<\/p>\n

Anyway, it took me a few weeks to pull myself out of the booze-and-self-pity-spiral. The depression remained, as did the lack of desire to write anything or talk to anyone, or ever sign into facebook again. Without the alcohol to numb me, though, this state of affairs really sucked<\/em>.<\/p>\n

The Ogre would talk about going back to therapy, or back on antidepressants, or anything and everything he could think of. At first I would reject it all, much like a petulant 4-year-old rejects broccoli, then stomp to our room, slam the door, and cry myself to sleep under the covers. But gradually I just started shrugging noncommittally while staring out the window, which was a really bad sign. Finally one day he bought me a copy of Love in the Ruins<\/em>, took the kids to Naples, and gave me strict orders to \u201cread, and do nothing else. Do not cry. Do not sleep. Do not watch TV. Read.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was really sunny that day, so I dragged a chair outside and squinted up at Walker Percy while the Florida sun beat down on me. 2 hours, 76 pages, and one sunburn later, I went inside and stood in the middle of the kitchen for a while, disoriented by the unfamiliar sensation of peace and contentment.<\/p>\n

Right, <\/em>I thought. Reading brings me joy. Sunshine brings me joy. I forgot. <\/em><\/p>\n

So every day after that, I dragged a chair outside and sat for an hour while the kids played in the water hose. Sometimes I read, sometimes I took pictures of them, sometimes I just closed my eyes and listened to them laugh \u2013 and fight<\/del>.<\/p>\n

I started thinking of other ways to generate peace. Exercising, obviously. I went back to running and doing yoga. Confession and Mass, but alone or with 1 or 2 kids, max \u2013 so the Ogre and I started splitting up to go to Mass. I couldn\u2019t bring myself to confront the issue of writing, but eventually I had to face the fact that although chocolate makes me happy, it doesn\u2019t bring me peace, especially when I\u2019m eating all of it. Ditto for cookies, popcorn, fried chicken, and all the other crap I\u2019d been eating while I was too depressed to cook regularly. I faced it, but didn\u2019t quite get around to changing it. Then one day, I randomly asked my friend Mary if she wanted to do something dreadful, and to my shock and horror, she agreed. Worse, she wanted to start right away<\/em>, and only let me wheedle my way into a few days\u2019 delay.<\/p>\n

So I girded my loins and started a Whole 30, 19 days ago. (Don\u2019t worry, I\u2019ll write more about that later. Probably way too much more.)\u00a0 I still have mixed feelings about it, mostly because I have manifestly not<\/em> experienced a miraculous cessation of depression and have actually gained<\/em> weight, but it has definitely helped bring me back to the land of the living. Or, well, it\u2019s gotten me to the point where I actually almost want to blog and only feel a medium amount of fear at the prospect, instead of having a paradoxical reaction of overwhelming apathy and crushing terror at the thought of my blog.<\/p>\n

But really, two important things happened to get me to type these words. Someone in Ave actually told me how much my blog had meant to them \u2014 like it had actually helped<\/em> them with a difficult issue in their life, not like it had \u201chelped them understand what a true heretic looks like\u201d \u2014 and this was such an unparalleled experience that I started crying on the grammar school playground and thought, \u201cjeez, maybe I\u2019m really not just a foul-mouthed blight on the face of the Catholic blogosphere. I mean I am that, but maybe I\u2019m also something else too.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then Lizzie and Joanne sent me flowers and Margaret sent me a card, and I remembered that I have so many friends online, and I miss them, but I also owe it to them to not remain silent and distant in the face of obvious love and concern.<\/p>\n

So, I\u2019m not remaining silent. For now. My husband told me yesterday that self-knowledge is a rare thing, and it\u2019s not pathetic to know one\u2019s limits and express them. I\u2019m really sure about certain limits, like how I should never drink whiskey again and how I can\u2019t watch Arrow<\/em> right now because I want to avoid brooding in my entertainment choices, but I\u2019m not so sure about writing. I don\u2019t know what to do about this blog at all, actually. I\u2019ve played around with the idea of starting a new one, or just taking an extended hiatus, but big decisions should never be made without chocolate, so I won\u2019t have an answer for at least 11 more days.<\/p>\n

For now at least I just wanted to say hi, that I missed y\u2019all, and that I\u2019m so grateful for your prayers.<\/p>\n

And also that I learned how to sew buttons on while I was not blogging, so there.<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

So I\u2019m not dead or anything, in case you were wondering. I gather that my sudden and inexplicable absence from both the blog and facebook and <insert guilt here> my failure to respond to emails and even 99% of text messages has some people worried. I\u2019m not gonna lie, I kinda felt equal parts excruciatingly […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1110,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5010","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\nOh Hi, I'm Alive<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"So I'm not dead or anything, in case you were wondering. 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