Grief

Grief is a silent, indisious destroyer.
Grief is a noisy explosion.
Grief is a dark, dank pit with no way out.
Grief is huge and overwhelming and inescapable.
Grief is love with nowhere to go.
Grief...is. It just is.
It's an explosion inside my brain that shreds everything in its path - not just thoughts but the concept of thought. Some days I don't know that there is a thing called "thinking", let alone how to think. But i have to. Every day. So, I go along and pick up the shrapnel of myself. Tiny piece by tiny piece. Sticking them back together into a semblance of substance. Sometimes I drop some. Some days, the glue doesn't hold and everything falls to pieces. And when everything falls to pieces, so do I, because I am the pieces.
Some days, I feel together.
Other days, there's nothing available to be together with.
That is grief. It's destroyed what I was and now I'm someone and something else. I don't know who this person is. But I guess I have to learn, because I'm kinda stuck with her.

Living with Depression, or, How Can The Broken Component Accurately Diagnose And Fix Itself?

I have Depression.  Lots of it.  Call it "Major Depression" or "Severe Depression" or whatever you want.  It's always there, it always sucks, and it's always next to impossible to describe what it's like to live with to people who don't have it.
But I'm gonna try, and I'm gonna use a computer analogy.  So if you don't like those, you're not gonna like this post.

See, it's tough to deal with depression and hear all the well-meaning comments about "get help", "there's help out there", "get medication", "get therapy", etc.  Because all those rely on me recognizing I'm broken and taking action to fix it.  And things like "well just pray more" or "trust in God and everything will be okay" or "just smile and ACT like it's ok and you'll be OK" - super not helpful.  Trusting in God gets me through the day.  It doesn't make the problem go away.

It's like my brain is a computer, with a glitchy health-check program.  It runs a diagnostic, and comes back with "All OK!  No problems here!" when it's clear to literally everyone else that nothing is OK, and I have all the problems.  So of course I don't get help.  Why would I get help - I don't need it!  I'm OK.  My internal health check said so.
"Sure", you say, invisible straw-person of the internet, "but you can just ignore it and know it's broken and do the opposite!" Yeah.  Right.  That requires that the broken part knows it's broken.  So now my software needs to recognize that the software itself is bad.  And it has to know in what way  so that I can get the help I need.  Plus, it's not like my brain always plays "opposite day".  Every minute, of every day, it's giving reports to me.  And I have to filter them, and evaluate them, and decide whether or not they're useful, valuable, and relevant. These reports sound a lot like:

• "You suck."
• "You're stupid."
• "Nobody wants you around."
• "Everyone else does everything better than you."
• "Maybe you should just die and leave the world a better place."
• "People only tolerate you because they feel sorry for you."
• "One of these days they're going to figure out you have no idea what you're doing and fire you."
• "Nobody likes you."
• "System OK"
• "I'm having a good time"
• "You only think it's a good time because everyone is lying to you"
• "You're a bad person"
• "You're worthless"
• "I'm valuable.  Shut it"
• "People DO care about me notheydon't"
• "People would be happier if you weren't in their lives"

And these happen every second, of every minute, of every day.  I have to fight the negative messages with fact, and highlight the positive ones.  This fight will never EVER end.  I can't ever win.  This isn't a fight that I can do once, and then hooray, I've taken the correct medication and gone to enough therapy, the Depression Demons have been Vanquished Forever!

No.  This fight will go on until I die.  This fight takes place in my head literally all. the. time.  I'm constantly battling those thoughts and feelings of inadequacy, of doubt, of isolation, of worthlessness.  I do it with fact and with knowledge because my emotions will NOT rule me.  But it's still a fight.  It's still a struggle.  And it's utterly, completely exhausting.  Some days I have no energy for anything except the fight.  Some days I don't even have enough FOR the fight - and yet somehow, I keep going.  I have no choice. 

Each statement must be acknowledged, evaluated, and either discarded or acted upon.  Because sometimes, they're correct.  I've done something wrong and it has to be fixed.  I've done something RIGHT and I should acknowledge that and revel in it for a few minutes.  I'm having a bad day and need to know why.  I'm having a good day and need to enjoy it.  Whatever the message is, I need to pay attention to it.  

So it may look like I'm distracted.  Yeah, sometimes I am.  Sometimes I'm not paying attention to anything, because I need a break from the cacophony.  Sometimes I focus on brain candy because I need something fun and mindless.  

My system diagnostics still run.  They still give me inaccurate reports, and sometimes they give me accurate reports.  How do I know what the difference is?  Evaluation.  Analysis.  Taking facts and comparing them to the messages.  

I fight depression every second of my life.  It is the hardest fight I've ever had.  It won't ever end.  But it's worth the fight, because I will live my life to the best of my ability, rather than letting my depression define me.

My name is Kim.  And this is how I live with depression.

A Modern Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was a princess.  She wasn't the "fairest in the land", nor was she beset by Evil Stepmothers and Stepsisters, nor was she a fairy princess.  She didn't live in a castle, surrounded by a moat, or fire, or guarded by a dragon.  She wasn't cursed.  But she was a princess all the same.  And she dreamed of the day her prince would come, and carry her off on his white horse, and they would live
Happily Ever After.

Because that's how all the fairy tales end.  All princesses eventually marry princes, who carry them away on their white horse, and they live
Happily Ever After.

As the princess grew, she learned about things other than just "waiting for a prince".  She learned about how her world worked, and about other worlds.  She read about space ships, and stars, and adventures, and tragedy, and triumph. About elves, and war, and rings.  And for a little while, she thought maybe she wouldn't want a prince after all.

But...the princess didn't really believe it.  She knew, deep down, that princesses need princes to live
Happily Ever After.

And so eventually the princess left home, and met her prince.  Her prince promised her they would live Happily Ever After. She was so completely entranced, she didn't notice that her prince was gradually drawing her away from her family and friends.  But it was OK, because they had each other, and they loved each other, and that's all you need to live
Happily Ever After.
So the princess slowly drew away from her family, and talked to them less and less.  She eventually refused to listen to the sage advice of the King and Queen at all...because they were not her Prince.  And her Prince was all she needed.  The King and Queen were frantic.  They thought they'd lose their Princess forever to the Prince, but they did not know how to change things.

And then....and then, the Prince made an error.  The Prince...left, assuming his hold over the princess was secure.  Without the Prince there every day, the princess wilted.  Her Happily Ever After really wasn't that happy.  Her friends, that she'd tried to ignore earlier in favor of the prince, came back.  The King and Queen welcomed her back with cries of joy when she called, throwing the castle doors wide, proclaiming a kingdom-wide celebration for their daughter. The princess knew it was for her birthday, but it was the thought that this ... this is what she'd scorned.  People who loved her no matter what.  No matter who she became, no matter what she did.  So the princess begged for their forgiveness.  And the King, the Queen, and all her friends told her there was nothing to forgive...but perhaps don't be quite so foolish next time.  And the princess vowed to learn from her mistake.

So the princess called the Prince and told him she no longer thought he was her prince, and she really wasn't the princess he was looking for.  The prince tried to draw her back with honeyed words, but it was too late.  He'd been gone for too long, and his spells had grown too weak.  He returned to cast more spells in person, but...she now had protection from his spells, in the form of her friends and family.  For the prince was really a Sorcerer in disguise.  After several failed attempts to recapture her, he finally gave up, and left for good.  While the princess (and the King and Queen) thought "good riddance", the princess did wonder sadly if she would ever find a prince.

A while later, the princess met...a prince. At least she thought he was a prince.  She was rather surprised by his appearance, though.  Not that one should place a LOT of stock in appearance, but...well...princes usually ...

"Aren't you a little short for a prince?" she said.
"What's it to you?  Why are you just sitting around here waiting for someone to 'rescue' you?  I don't see you with a broken arm or leg." he retorted.
"Well, it's just that princes are usually taller."
"Hmph. Tough. I also don't rescue people that aren't willing to help out. Deal with it, Toots."

WELL.  That was NOT how princes should act!

"You're quite rude.", she said.
"Look who's talking.  You're the one who started it.  'Aren't you a little short for a prince', indeed." he shot back.
"Um.  You have a point."
"Are we going to stand here and just chit-chat all day?  I have things to do, lady."
"I...what?  Why did you come here then if not to rescue me and be my prince?"
"OH MY GOSH.  You have got to be kidding.  First off, as I said, rescue yourself.  I don't see anything broken, you're not helpless.  Second, I'm not some brainless prize to be awarded out just because I happen to be in the right neighborhood when a princess is around."

You know...he's different...I think I like him.

And so the princess and the prince became friends.  And eventually, they did get married.
The princess learned how to rescue herself from a LOT of situations, and how to plan so that she NEVER needed to rely on someone else to rescue her.  She also learned that princesses and princes come in lots of shapes and sizes.  For her prince wasn't really a completely human prince at all.  He was also part Ogre. (It's complicated.)  And when the princess stopped looking to be rescued, and started rescuing herself, and standing up to her prince when he was being particularly grumpy and Ogre-like, she liked herself a lot more.  And when she did that, she started growing.
"EEP!  What is happening?" she cried.
Her prince came running. "Oh, you're growing into your real self."
"What do you mean" she squeaked "MY REAL SELF" she growled.
Her prince watched in delight.  "Yup, what I thought. Mind the ceiling."
For the princess had turned into a dragon.  The beautiful dragon she always was, and he always knew she could be.  Together they went on adventures of flying, bonfires, and other Dragonish - Ogreish adventures.

They lived happily this way for a while, and then tragedy struck.  The prince was struck down by an evil spell, and died.
The King, the Queen, the princess, the Queen of Cats (who had by now become the princess' very best friend), and all the land mourned for the prince.  But for quite some time, the princess refused to fly.  Refused to breathe fire.  Refused to believe that anyone could love a dragon.  That the only prince that would ever love a dragon would be a very special prince, and if he was very special, why wouldn't he already have a princess?  She mourned the human-seeming princess she had been, once.  At least, she thought, I looked normal then.  At least I could sort of pass for pretty.

Over the years, even though the dragon still missed her prince, she did more things that she used to do.  She spruced up her home.  She started trying to breathe fire again.  She got some cats with some advice from the Queen of Cats.  She did really good things at work. She spent time with friends, did things with the King and Queen, and quiet time reading. (e-books.  Tough to turn pages with those claws.)
And...she flew.
She flew skies that she hadn't known before.  She jumped off cliffs that terrified her and hoped she could open her wings in time.  She flew storms, and she flew peaceful skies.  She flew at night, over sea, and sand, and mountains.  And every time she flew, her wings grew a little stronger, and she flew a little higher, and a little farther, and flying was easier.
And so even though
Happily Ever After
didn't turn out to be all that long after all, the Dragon was happy to have the time she had with her prince.  Because he taught her to FLY.

Twenty-five years ago today, the Dragon Princess married her Ogre Prince.  I love you, Kevin. I miss you.  But I'm doing really good, and I'm still trying to be the best damn Dragon I can be.  And I'm flying.

(Metaphorically.  Leaving the ground sucks.)

An Analogy

I sit at my campfire.  Today, it burns low.  It's hard to keep it high enough to provide the warmth and light that it used to.  The warmth keeps the pain away. The light enables me to find more fuel for the fire.  Sometimes, I have enough wood to feed the fire well, and the fire burns so high that I'm nice and toasty warm - and there's light enough to forage quite a distance for wood.  Sometimes, the wood I find is excellent fuel, and it burns long, hot, and brightly.  It lasts a long time. Other times, I don't find much more than a little bit of bark - or all I find is wood that burns up immediately, and doesn't provide much in the way of heat and light. I never know which kind of wood it will be, because it all looks the same.  I have to put it on the fire to see if today will be a good day, with a warm bright fire, or if today will be a dim, cold, bad day with a small glowing coal where a fire should be.
Always, always there is pain.  Sometimes the pain is a small, insignificant thing, kept at bay by the heat and light.  Sometimes it's so overwhelming that simply breathing is all I can do. I just wish I could explain, sometimes, how very exhausting it is.  None of this shows, after all.  None of it is visible.  It's all internal, this pain.  But it still wears me down just like visible, physical pain does.  It's still exhausting.
It used to be easier to keep my fire going brightly, because it used to be "our" fire.  When it was "our" fire, one of us could tend the fire while the other looked for fuel, or both could gather wood for a time, and double our chances of finding good wood - or at least bring back larger quantities of any wood we found.  And, if one of us was unable to go look for wood one day, the other could look. Now,  I have to limit myself to what I can bring back by myself, rather than what "we" could carry between us, and if any is going to be found, it has to be by me.  There's no one else to get any, because each campfire must be maintained by those responsible for it.  Just as each fire is created by what each person brings to it, each fire is maintained by those same people.  So if I'm exhausted and can't move, the fire gets no fuel.

Campfires surround me, providing additional heat and light.  These are the fires of my family and friends, helping to keep the pain - and the darkness - at a distance. Sometimes, they visit my campfire, and help me build it up.  Sometimes, they bring additional wood for my fire.  Sometimes, I visit their fires, and bask in the warmth of their fire and friendship before heading back to my fire - occasionally laden with wood for my fire.  And the family and friends help.  Just the knowledge that they are there helps, and the additional heat helps keep the pain farther away.  Without these campfires, I don't know how I would have made it this far.  God provides what we need, every day.  And I am surrounded by the loving care and warmth of friends and family, even when my campfire is a mere smolder.

Farther out, more fires burn.  Not all fires blaze brightly.  Some are quite dim, and some have gone out. Some are deliberately stamped out, as people refuse to maintain their fires. Some just go out from neglect.  All fires require work to keep them burning, after all. As I watch, new fires are created...and some fires grow. As people are added to a family, their fire grows, and as the family members grow, they add their own abilities to supply fuel to the fire. As people join to create new families,so are new fires created, as each person takes a burning log from their families' fire, and joins it with their new family members' burning logs, and a new fire is made.
Some fires blaze quite brightly indeed, as people heap fuel onto their fire.Everything they have - love, joy, grief, sorrow - is put onto the flame.  Sometimes all I have to offer is pain, so that is what I give.  My fire doesn't burn very brightly, most days.  The pain is still here.  The fire will flicker higher, sometimes, and some days it will burn brightly and warmly for days in a row.  Sometimes, I have good days for weeks - and sometimes, I have bad days for weeks.
Always, always I offer it on the fire.  Because it is always what I have.

Farewell

Today I took Jeremy to the vet for an evaluation of his allergies and progression in "fixing" them.  The conclusion was that he's not getting better.  His skin was getting worse, even though he was on an allergy medication that should have fixed the issue - especially since he was getting serum shots (allergy shots) as well.
His arthritis has progressed rapidly as well - noticeably worse - just between the beginning of the year and now.
The conclusion was a probable autoimmune disorder, such as lupus - the most severe kind (SLE).  Treatment is immune suppressants, and massive doses of steroids.  Treatment may not even be that effective, and SLE can attack the entire system, including blood vessels and organs.  Since Jeremy's been so bad for so long, I expect he was having some organ damage as well as skin damage, which all would have only gotten worse over time.
So, I did the hardest thing for me, but the kindest thing for him.  He's not in pain anymore.  He's not itching anymore.  He's not miserable anymore.

Farewell, Jeremy.  You were well loved, and a very good dog.  I'm sorry the magic fix everything wand is apparently permanently out of stock.

My company made the news!

21 Alive came to Extension yesterday and their visit was on the news!

I've been thinking about grief, and to be honest, my sadness and grief is essentially all selfish. It's all "I" based - I miss him, I miss the things he did for me and for us, I miss having someone to talk to and someone tangible to "belong" to... Stuff  like that. NONE of it is because I doubt he is in heaven or anything like that.
So it's weird, but the articles, and books, and so on about "what it's like in heaven" that most people use / need for comfort really don't do anything for me. I guess it's because, even when I told the doctor to take Kev off  life support, I knew - and not just "knew", but KNEW with  a  bone - deep certainty - that he was in heaven.  I KNOW I will see him again. I KNOW he's far, far happier there than he ever could have been on earth.

My tears are not for him. They never were. They are for me. Yes, some of them are self - pitying. Some of them are just an overflow of pain that has  to have an outlet. But they're all for me.

And, in the end, God will take this and turn it into a blessing. He didn't "take Kev" - that was never in the original blueprints.  But He can, and will, turn  even our greatest sorrows into joy.

"And we know that for those who love Him, God works in all things for the good of those who are called according to His purpose."
 - Romans 8:28