It's been close to one full year since I last published a post here, and a lot has happened in that year. I have a lot more Facebook friends now than I did when I'd published my last post, between the Flying Spaghetti Monster benefit dinner I helped plan in November and A Week in March.

Not many people know that, after the FSM dinner, I had a breakdown of sorts. I went into a major depressive episode that included suicidal ideation, which I ignored and pretended wasn't as bad as it was for as long as I could because I was determined to not give in to those urges. I eventually ended up unable to get out of bed or communicate with anyone except in situations when it was absolutely unavoidable.

I stopped going to class, answering calls and texts, and interacting on Facebook, though I logged in every day and lurked, scrolling through my news feed without the energy to engage another person in even something as minimal as a "Like." By that time I was so far down I believed that to tell anyone else about my depression would just be a burden on them, and that no one should have to put up with me whining about my first-world problems that I told myself I had no right to feel sad about in the first place because there are other people in the world who have it so much worse than I, which made me hate myself even more for not being able to just suck it up and move on like any "normal" person would.

Then a friend posted Hyperbole and a Half's web comic Adventures in Depression on Facebook, and it amazed me to discover someone else who felt the same way I did, and to read comments from so many others about their own similar experiences. It helped me feel less like some freak and more like a human being experiencing the symptoms of a treatable illness.

I read every post about mental illness in the archives of JT Eberhard's blog and watched the YouTube video of his talk at SSA Con 2012 on the same topic, and read more of Hyperbole and a Half's posts on depression. I listened to Under Pressure on repeat and told myself I would be okay while trying to summon the courage to tell someone what was going on inside my head.

The first person I told was a professor, mostly because there was a project in place of a final that I hadn't even started because I hadn't expected to live that long. When that realization hit home, I knew that it was more serious than I'd previously been willing to admit to myself. I talked to my other professors, finished up finals, lined up my sister and mother to take care of E, and called Netcare.

I was admitted to the crisis center, where I stayed overnight. The next day I was moved to the Crisis Stabilization Unit, where I stayed for four days. It was an overall positive experience, with a few minor exceptions, but those details will have to wait for another time.

After that I began therapy, which at first went alright. The longer I saw this therapist, though, the more I began to dread going; our sessions were mostly taken up by his talking at me (at me, as opposed to to me, or with me), and he frequently misinterpreted the few things I was able to say on any given subject. Then, of course, there was the difference in religious beliefs (in my case a lack thereof), which became taboo for me to discuss in our sessions, though he told stories about his days in Catholic school and once quoted scripture at me. Another time, when trying to convince me to step down as president of my school's Secular Student Alliance (SSA) affiliate group, he said, "even the pope stepped down," to which I didn't have a response. The response that came to me a number of hours later (as usual) involved pointing out that the pope had also covered up a mountain of child sex abuse cases, protecting the offenders rather than the survivors. I have little to no respect for religious figureheads in general, but pope Benedict in particular was one who earned my deepest contempt and loathing through his abhorrent actions (or inaction, as the case may be).

As of now, I've been officially discharged from his care for my failure to make and keep appointment times. Oopsies.

I'm still up and down. I have my good days and bad days. On my good days, I'm able to get at least a few things accomplished. On my bad days, I feel like I'm crumbling from the inside out (when I'm not completely numb, that is). I'm not consistent with anything, least of all completing basic tasks and communicating with others. My main mental health goal right now is to make sure I'm consistently taking my meds and sticking to a somewhat regular routine, as well as being aware of my moods and examining the thoughts that drive them.

Being around kids and animals helps. Even on my lowest days, spending quality time with kids and animals (whether my own or someone else's) is soothing to me; I find it easier to live in the moment and appreciate the little things and all the other platitudes that I can't seem to put into practice on my own.

 Another big help is my amazing boyfriend, whom I've been seeing for a little over two months. He's been so helpful and supportive that I feel confident in my future recovery, even though I still have a long way to go.

I'm putting all of this out there now because I want to add to the growing chorus of individuals with mental illness who are fighting the stigma that society attaches to it. I have so many brave friends and acquaintances who have been willing to speak up about their struggles, and in doing so they've helped me with mine. I'd like to pay it forward; I hope that this rambling post helps someone else living with depression to feel less alone in their struggle.

I took my five-year-old to see the Perseid meteor shower (have I mentioned she wants to be an astronaut when she grows up?) I put her to bed at the normal time, then got her up around 11pm to get ready to go. I'd planned to get her up at 11:30, but was glad I did it early because she cried for half an hour straight. She wanted to stop, but she couldn't, poor kid. She kept taking deep breaths, but she was so tired that she couldn't help it. I offered to let her go back to bed, but she refused -- she really, really wanted to go see the meteors. I managed to talk her down enough to get her out the door and buckled into her car seat, where she fell asleep as soon as we were a few minutes down the road. I drove about 45 minutes outside town and took a couple back roads until I found a good spot in between a cornfield and a soybean field. I pulled up in the tractor entrance. With no houses for at least a mile in all directions, the view into space was awe-inspiring.

The stars were amazing. Having grown up in the city, I'm always blown away by the night sky in the country. I only saw four meteors, and Evelyn might have seen one or two. Even though I'd checked the radar earlier that evening and it was supposed to be clear, the sky to the southeast was covered in clouds, and that's where most of the meteor action was supposed to be. Oh well.

We stayed for about five minutes, after which the munchkin said she wanted to go home; she was fighting so hard to stay awake. We got back in the car, and I'm pretty sure she passed out as I backed onto the road and started to head back toward the highway.

I have several other crazy stories to tell, but I'm just not feeling it. Kids do crazy things, and dealing with those crazy things is just part of living with kids. So on a lighter note, I've made a list of songs that are supposed to be love songs dealing with adult relationships, but that I feel translate well into how I feel about my mini-me. Thanks to my awesome sister for giving me suggestions after I told her I was compiling this list.

I had a lot of fun making this list, mostly because I went back and listened to some songs that were significant to me when I was younger but take on an entirely different meaning in the context of this list.

Also, no copyright infringement is intended by my posting of youtube videos for each song; I just want to provide links for people to listen for themselves.

1.) "I Love You Always Forever" by Donna Lewis

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SqdWTeXWvOg

 This one is pretty self-explanatory based on the title. I like to put it on for us to dance to, and I sing it to her while we're dancing.

2.) "Not Your Fault" by AWOLNATION

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jm9-yVdxbSs

The verses don't really match up to a parent/child relationship, but the line in the chorus is applicable whenever I lose my temper with her: "Baby when I'm yellin' at you, it's not your fault, it's not your fault." I sing this to myself whenever I've yelled at her to remind myself that it really isn't her fault; she's just a kid, and she's going to do crazy kid things. Perhaps I should sing it to her instead.

3.) "Ho Hey" by The Lumineers

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zvCBSSwgtg4

The chorus says it all: "I belong with you, you belong with me, my sweetheart." To someone in a relationship, this might mean something different. Since my sweetheart is my daughter and not a lover, the tone changes, but the words still ring true.

4.) "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjFaenf1T-Y

"Home is wherever I'm with you." Much of the verses are applicable as well, with lyrics such as "you're the apple of my eye, girl I've never loved one like you" and "laugh until we think we've died, barefoot on a summer night, never knew anything sweeter than with you." It reminds me that we're a family, even if there are only two of us, and that love is what makes a home.

5.) "Every Breath You Take" by The Police

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cEnJDaqT3-0

I've always thought this song was completely creepy. However, when my sister mentioned it, I listened to it again and found that it is definitely applicable to the parent/child relationship. It became much less creepy when listening to it in that context.

6.) "I'll Be There" by Jackson 5

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-apaIOOoAo

Another suggestion from my seester. I've always liked this song, though I'm not too comfortable with the idea of children singing a song intended to represent an adult relationship. However, like the stalker song above, it's completely relevant to the way I feel about my kid, so there's that.

7.) "I Swear" by All-4-One

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7QwCrlM7RE&feature=related

"For better or worse, til death do us part, I'll love you with every beat of my heart." Yes. I realize these are generally used as marriage vows, but they still apply. Actually, all of this song applies.

8.) "For You I Will" by Monica

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4lXmNqnaTcY&feature=related

"I will cross the ocean for you, I will go and bring you the moon, I will be your hero, your strength, anything you need; I will be the sun in your sky, I will light your way for all time, I promise you, for you I will." And then there are the verses. How was this not written by a parent for their child?

9.) "Too Dramatic" by Ra Ra Riot

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oRo7Ed4yfvo

I'd almost forgotten about this one; it used to get stuck in my head for days whenever the munchkin would have a screaming meltdown over something that seemed completely trivial to me.

I wanted to get to ten, but I've been adding to this list for the past couple weeks and I'd like to move on. Comment here or on my facebook page about your favorite grown-up song for your kid(s)! (Remember, it doesn't count if it was actually written for a kid.)

I know that the authoritarian discipline style doesn't work on my kid. I know this. And yet, for some reason, I still try to use it. Mostly when we're in a hurry or it's important to me that something be done as quickly as possible. Of course, the result is always the same: defiance. She usually listens pretty well when I speak to her in the same tone I expect her to use toward others (i.e. polite). She is not a defiant child in general. However, she is very stubborn and independent, so whenever I attempt to exert my authority in a manner reminiscent of a drill sergeant (or maybe a strict schoolmarm would be more accurate), she rebels. This, of course, becomes a battle of wills that quickly spirals into a total loss of control, usually on her part (though plenty of times on my own, as well). 

Last week, we were supposed to have dinner with some friends. She enjoys going to their house and has no reason to delay going there; however, from the moment I walked in the door to pick her up after my class, I began barking orders at her because I wanted to get there as soon as possible. Mommy fail. Her stubborn streak immediately kicked in and within a few short minutes escalated into a full-blown tantrum. I attempted de-escalation tactics, but she was hot and tired and hungry and nothing I said made a bit of difference once she was already in her behavioral downward spiral. She fought me every inch of the way from getting shoes on to walking out the door to getting in the car and buckled, and even after we got home; I had to physically move her anywhere I wanted her to go, with her fighting me the whole way and screaming like she was possessed. At several points I was positive that her head was going to turn all the way around and I'd soon be drenched in split-pea soup (yes, it was that intense). I'm sure with all the dragging and screaming it looked like I was kidnapping her (I'm so glad I didn't get pulled over on the way home).

Once we were home, there were fewer distractions. She continued her tantrum in the chair I sat her in, but after a while she just cried. I came and sat across from her, waiting for her to calm down more so we could talk.

"I think...I'm going...to throw up," she wheezed in between heavy cry-breaths. "And...my throat...hurts."

I got her a cup of water and some tissues, sat back down, and said, "Sweetheart, the reason you feel like that is that you've been throwing a fit and crying and screaming. The screaming hurt your throat, and the hysterics made you feel like throwing up. You'll feel better after you're all the way calm." She wiped her eyes and nose, took small sips of water, and sat. She was still crying, but no longer tantruming.

After a while, her breathing evened out a bit. "I still feel sick."

"Drink some more water and take a few deep breaths," I told her, "you'll feel better soon. I'm glad you're finally calming down." After she'd fully stopped crying, I asked her why she was so upset in the first place.

"Because I thought you didn't love me!" She started crying all over again.

"Oh, honey," (I felt so bad), "of course I love you! But when I tell you to do something, I need you to do it. I just wanted you to get ready so we could go to our friends' house."

"I'm sorry Mommy!" she sobbed. "I want to go, I'll listen, I promise!"

"It's too late," I told her as gently as I could. "It's going to be bedtime soon. We can go another day."

She wailed inconsolably. "But I want to see them, I miss them!"

"Sweetheart, you've been out of control since I came to pick you up. You wouldn't have had any fun if we'd gone because you were too upset. We'll go another night." In hindsight, I should have apologized to her for my rude tone. I want her to be polite and respectful to others, even when she's upset herself, which means I need to show her how to do that. Unfortunately, it's a skill I'm still working on myself when it comes to parenting. Mommy fail again. Still, an apology from me probably would have gone a long way in driving home the message that it's really not okay to use a rude tone of voice (yes, I consider authoritarian order-barking to be rude; it tends to breed resentment, not respect -- at least, I tend to resent people who bark orders at me in an authoritarian manner, and I suspect that many people feel the same).

The old "do as I say, not as I do" idiom is bunk. It holds the child to a higher standard than the adult spouting the phrase holds themselves, even though the child has less experience and therefore fewer resources to draw upon, especially when under duress. I feel this philosophy very strongly, yet I struggle to live it. Guess I have my work cut out for me, as far as parenting is concerned.

Dr. Jekyll/Ms. Hyde

I would say that most of the time, my kid is pretty sweet; she's generally not intentionally mean, anyway. I say "generally" because, for the past few days, she's been out of control. I've gotten exceptionally bad reports from school about aggression, defiance, and extreme tantrums over not getting her way (as in, not wanting to do what she's supposed to do, then flipping the hell out when she gets in trouble for it). I have not been a happy mama. I was even less happy about the following exchange.

In the car yesterday evening, she told me more than once that she hated me and was going to kill me. I just said, "oh, okay" so as not to give her too much of a reaction. She went on to tell me that she wanted to be mean, that she wanted to hurt, that she wanted to be a bully. She kicked my seat repeatedly while saying these horrible, hateful things. As much as I wanted to pull the car over and show her what a real bully looks like, I kept my cool (which I'm actually way proud of, because I was super pissed). When we got home, she told me she was hungry and asked me what she could have to eat. My response was, "what makes you think I'm going to give you food?" She stared at me for a few seconds and started to reply, but I cut her off, saying, "you said you hated me, that you wanted to be mean and hurt me, that you were going to kill me, so why in the world would I give you anything?" She didn't say anything, so I went on: "If you killed me, would I be able to feed you?" She looked at the floor and shook her head. "If you killed me, what do you think would happen?"

That's when she burst into tears and ran to give me a hug, saying, "I'm sorry Mommy, I didn't mean it, I don't want to kill you or hurt you or be a bully, I'm so so so sorry!"

I accepted her hug, but told her, "it's not okay to say things like that. Ever. To anyone. It doesn't matter how mad you are, you don't say things like that, because the next time you need something from the person you said those things to, you're not going to get it. You can't hurt people and expect them to still be nice to you."

I hope that message sinks in.

Dreams

Lately the munchkin has become somewhat obsessed with dreams. Every morning she tells me about her dream from the night before and asks me what I dreamed (I usually don't remember mine, though). Before bed, we talk about what she thinks she's going to dream about that night. She has a pretty wild imagination, which I love.

A few weeks ago, she carried around "baby Spongebob." She picked him up off of a cloud in a dream and carried him with her into the waking world. He was invisible, and small enough to fit in her hand. He rode in her pocket and slept on her bed, and she fed him bottles and changed his diaper.

There have also been several occasions where she has insisted that something completely outlandish actually happened; it seems as though her dreams are so vivid that she sometimes has a hard time differentiating between them and waking life. Honestly, I'm kinda jealous.

Last night during dinner, my almost-5-year-old daughter looked at me and said, "Mom, can you get a baby in your belly so I can have a sister or a brother?"

I almost choked on my green beans; I was trying so hard not to laugh out loud. "Sorry honey, that's just not going to happen."

"But why, Mom? I want someone to play with me!"

"Sweetheart, if I had another baby, it wouldn't be able to play with you for a long time. Also, babies are a lot of work and I don't have time to take care of another kid." Yes, I realize it sounds like a "we're-not-getting-a-puppy" discussion.

"Okay, I guess I'll just have to play with my cousins and my neighbors."

Phew.