Adulthood

Lately, I've been reading some of the blogs linked to Nancy's. Many of them are blogs written by mothers. I like reading mommy blogs and blogs about babies. My first encounter with blogs was The Trixie Update. I was visiting Nancy in Cincinnati about two years ago when she showed me some of the blogs she had started following, including that one. It wasn't long after that she started her own and convinced me to do the same. Actually, she tried to convince me to start one first. We talked about thinking about our lives in bloggable terms. We started narrating daily events in our heads, and, for me, it helped create a distinction between my lingering depression and me. It helped, and still helps, me to see things objectively. I never thought I would still be blogging almost two years later. It has helped me feel more connected to my friends and to many others who read my blog. Sometimes when I don't feel like writing, I will still post something for the internet. So much has happened in the past two, three years. When I began this blog, I had been married for a little over a year. Nancy once suggested on her blog that I post about my almost-turned-fiasco wedding. So here is an overview.

Wedding
It boiled down to almost losing the family dog (I found her about 1 hour before the ceremony was to begin out in the neighborhood while it was raining with my hair and makeup done. I was the only one not dressed yet, so it made the most sense for me to look for Zoe.), lots of thunder and torrential downpours, flooded roads and fires near the renovated barn where I was planning an outdoor reception, and no electricity. I was so happy to have found Zoe, that I almost didn't care what the ceremony would look like. We found a generator, and that gave us enough power for the little white lights wrapped around the beams and some music for the reception. We had candles all around, and I walked down a makeshift aisle created by the tables and chairs that were supposed to be outside under the flooded, mudcaked tent area. The rain eventually stopped, and it was cool for an August day. We made our way outside for dancing later in the evening. It was quite a memorable day. I was teary-eyed throughout the entire ceremony, because I looked at Ashley standing up front and heard a small sob, which ricocheted to my dad and then to me. I hadn't expected that. I really had to concentrate on holding back audible sobs. Everyone who said they were coming made it. I was really happy with the way the day turned out, and only wish it could have lasted longer.

Depression and Suicidal Ideation
I don't mean to imply here that marriage led to my depression. It's just the order in which things happened, and my depression is something I've wanted to write about here for some time. It is a major factor in my transition into adulthood, and I'd like to share it with you.

The first year and a half of marriage was difficult, to say the least. Zach and I hadn't lived together or even in the same state for over four years. He moved into what was my apt., and we quickly had to adjust to each other's presence. I didn't adjust. I can see now all the little things that contributed to my depression, and I think back to a quote I read somewhere about how the opposite of depression is not happiness, but resilience. I was not resilient. I had just gotten married, was finishing up my last semester of coursework for my PhD in German lit., which I wasn't even sure I wanted. I was helping TA for two different classes, I was studying for my comprehensive exam, both the written and oral, which I took and passed that November and December, I was training for a marathon, which I ran in October, and then Ashley got sick, which is what helped push me over the edge. Come December, I was done with all my coursework, exams, and had completed the marathon. It was dark and cold, and I was up in Massachusetts with Zach's family for the holidays. Meanwhile, back in Lancaster, my own family was broken. I still feel that way, what with Ashley now dead and Alyssa being mentally ill and having minimal contact with us. I still remember very clearly the first time it occurred to me that I could stop all this pain and misery with a few quick flicks of a razor blade, some vodka, and the big bottle of extra-strength Tylenol in the medicine cabinet. It was a Wednesday night in January, I was in the bathtub, and Zach was doing work. The thoughts entered my head seemingly out of nowhere. I envisioned myself lying in bloody bath water and tried to think about how it might feel to die that way. The next morning I couldn't shake those thoughts, and they were starting to freak me out. That's when the cutting began. I got home from a run, pulled out a pocket knife and scratched at my wrist. I thought if I could practice, then maybe in a little while I'd be able to really do IT. I felt immensely better afterwards. The cutting took on a life of its own. For the next two months, it became a release for me. It's what led me to the psych ward of the local hospital, and, ironically, probably what helped save me. It let me express physically what I couldn't put into words. Before I got the help I needed, though, I slipped down into some dark hole that I couldn't pull myself out of, not even with the help of my friends and family. I felt alone and miserable. I started swallowing the tylenol one afternoon. I got up to 9 pills before I stopped. I really didn't want to die. I wanted the pain to stop. I beat myself up for not being able to follow through with it. It made me feel worse about myself. Ashley convinced me to talk to my therapist, who eventually helped convince me to go away to a treatment center in AZ. Once I made the decision to go, things began looking up. Zach and I still weren't on good terms, and wouldn't be for another year or more. He didn't understand what was wrong and why I had to go, and there's still a lot of tension around the whole topic. It was less than a year later that Ashley died. This is all stuff that I've written about extensively in my own journals, and each time it feels a little less unbelievable. This is what really happened, and some days I am amazed at the human capacity for pain and suffering, and now, more recently, also at the capacity for happiness and love. I still don't have access to the words to describe what I felt and feel now. *I learned through my suffering that no human being is immune to the pain inherent in life. All people are connected through sadness and grief, and, as Nancy pointed out to me recently, they are also connected through love, joy and the myriad of emotions known to mankind that don't even have words to describe them.

*Here's where I stand on my soapbox.

Back to the Beginning
I started this post talking about mommy blogs, because I've been thinking more and more about having a baby, and soon. I am older than many of the mommies from those blogs, and I can't imagine having started a family before now. I am amazed at the number of women younger than I am who choose to start families. Nancy and I talk about how there is no set order to the way we are supposed to do things in life. As an adult, I can choose how I want to live my life. I am finally choosing what I want instead of what I think I should want. I am also finding the joy in my connections with other people. We really aren't alone in life, not if we choose to rely on other people. It's not a sign of weakness, as I once thought, but a sign of being human and of being healthy. It feels good to share not just the bad experiences, but also the good ones with other people.