Today Keith and I  drove about a hour to check out a camp site in Iowa.   We have a pop up camper and are anxious to use it.

 The weather has been so crappy here.  The trees are still leaveless.  But if I close my eyes...I could tell that this place will be beautiful in the summer. 


But even if it's not, I've decided it's not really where you are that makes a camping trip a success. 
It's who you are with. 

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I wish I could describe what depression feels like.  Maybe some people would understand it better.  I keep scouring the internet for a quote or description that adequetly describes the torment that it brings.
I found this....




But then I saw this....



I felt a little weepy.  Because right now....compliments feel like a dagger in my heart.  They make me cringe.  I don't feel worthy of them.  Or I think the person is lying. I hope one day, I will believe nice words about me. 

The picture at the top of my post.... I stopped in the middle of the road and took it with my phone.  When I saw that tree, the foggy road, it reminded me of how I feel. That dark tree with it's ugly branches just waiting to ruin my day.  My life. To snatch hold of me and squeeze the life out of me.  And the air..  It's foggy and cloudy and sometimes its hard to breathe because it's so thick.

But I also saw some light.  Not so far away. In the sky.  That's my hope.  The tree will always be there.  But maybe it's clutches won't be as tight.  And I'll be able to speed past it.  And the road will be clear.  Maybe then I'll believe in nice words.  I'll accept them as truth.

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****Remember last Saturday.  It was a good day.

Before the weather turned to crap (again), we went riding last Saturday. 

How many toys can my husband stuff on his truck? 

Apparently alot! 

I like to ride but it's even funner (funner?) to watch my boys and husband ride.  I love it because THEY love it. 





My poor Micah didn't get to ride for very long.  His throttle toasted out on him. So we hung out in the parking lot and waited for Keith and Darren to get done.  He took a nap on my four wheeler.  Just kidding.  This eleven year old never takes naps.  Or even short breaks.  He is constantly on the move and talking non stop. 



I have to remember this day.  We were together for nearly all of it.  And I remember laughing alot. 
After riding we went to Culver's for dinner. When we got  home the boys watched a motocross race that they had taped.  And when I say "boys" that includes my husband too.  He's as hooked as our sons are. 
I sat on the couch and fiddled with my computer.  Soon my youngest started riding around the couch on his Barbie bike. 

You read that right.  I brought home the Barbie bike from work a few months ago with the intent to take it to Goodwill.  I procrastinated a couple of days and the next thing I know the Barbie bike is painted camo and Micah is riding it in the house. Sometimes with his helmet on. Because you know...Safety first!
Even funnier is when Darren saw how much fun his little brother was having riding the Barbie bike....he wanted to try it out. 

Have you ever seen a 17 year old who is all arms and legs ride a Barbie bike? It's pretty funny.
 It must be super fun to ride because some nights they fight over it. 
I have got to get a video of them riding that thing.

I have to remember the good times.  It can be hard.   Somedays it's nearly impossible.   I know that they are there.  I know that they happen.  But during the good times....sometimes I don't feel a thing.  So the good times, don't feel so good.  In fact they can make me bitter. 
I think,"Why am I not enjoying this!?!  This is good stuff!! You love your family!  Cherish this time with them!"

It makes me feel worse.  Like I don't deserve them.  Here I was given this beautiful family and half the time I'm not really there.  I mean...I'm there, but not.... "there".

So I need to tuck those good times away.  Keep them in my memory.  Because even if I didn't feel anything while it was happening, sometimes when I pull up a memory on a later date,  I will smile.  And I know it was real.  The good time.  And the smile too. 

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Thats how I'm feeling these days.  Like a lightening bug that a cruel kid smashed on the sidewalk to see if it would glow. 
Friday night I tried to pull out of it.  Sat in my office and worked on some art to hang on the walls.




I hated both of them.  I picked them apart.  Just like I do myself.  I almost threw them away but had to remind myself that I may feel differently tomorrow. 
It's so frustrating not to be able to enjoy things I used to enjoy.  I want that back so badly.  I can't remember the last time I read a entire book all the way through.
And I love to read. 
Or I did.
I'm sure I still do.
I hope I still do.
We moved my office/craft room into another part of the basement.  Now I have windows and it's so bright and cheery.  But it's a big fat mess.  Because I keep getting distracted when I go in there.  I can't focus long enough to put anything away.  I pick something up and carry it around and then put it back down.  This week I am determined to put everything away.  I will try really hard not to get sidetracked.  I will try really hard to love how I set that room up.  I will try really hard not to pick at myself.  I will try to be happy.

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He responded...

"It's ok.  Don't over think it.  I'll help you through tonight."

Immediately, I started to over think it.

What happened?  I was feeling so good!  Something must have triggered it.  My mind started to race...why why why...was it because of this?  Was it because of that?  There has to be a reason.  I can't accept that this happens without a reason why. 

But it does.  It did.  It will. 

 I work in a private home.  I stayed downstairs this afternoon.  Sat in the dark.  Over thinking it. 

One of the hardest things is trying to figure out what is a "real" feeling and what is the depression.
I have alot going on in my life right now.  Alot of things to actually be depressed about.  So when I feel it coming on...I wonder...is this how normal people feel under these circumstances or is this the depression? If I didn't have this illness how would I feel?
What is normal?

I'm doing it again. 

I'll stop now. 

I couldn't hide downstairs forever so I put my happy face on and went upstairs where there are humans and critters. 

I saw this.

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I see beauty when I look at this picture.  Strange?  Not really.
  I see a 17 year old's heart and soul.
 I picture him underneath this truck tweaking, tightening, loosening.
 I see his hard earned money buying stickers, whips and a CB.
  I see his face breaking out in a grin after he came home mudding.
 I see him and his little brother, pulling out of the driveway, innertubes ratchet strapped to the bed, and I'm praying they don't break a leg flying down the snow hill.
 I see him spending most of his paycheck to fill that truck with gas.  And not caring because he loves it so much. 

But then...it was taken.  Stolen.  Poof.  Gone. 
His first heartbreak. 
We got it back.  But it would never be the same. 
Stripped and full of garbage. 

I see a therapist.  Her name is Jamie.  A week before this happened, we talked about anger. She thinks that  I don't feel like it's a acceptable feeling.  I told her...Yes I do!  I get angry! She said...at what? At whom?
I said...um.....well.....

Jamie: What if I told you to fill a whole sheet of paper of things that made you angry.

Amy: Can I do "regrets" instead?  Because I could feel a whole notebook full of those!

Jamie: No.  This is about anger.  Who and what.

Amy: Can I list myself?  All the things I'm mad at myself for?

Jamie: No

Amy: How about bad drivers?  They make me angry sometimes.  Well, not exactly angry.  Especially if they are old,  maybe they can't see very well.  Then I just feel sorry for them.

Jamie: (looks at me and shakes her head)

Amy: I'll try.


I know what will be first on my paper.  The creeps who stole my sons truck.  I was mad.  I wanted to cuss and scream and hunt them down. I wanted to hurt them the way they hurt my son. 
The anger burned through me.  I let it tunnel through my veins. 
It felt good to feel. 

The truck is gone now.  It would never be the same and Darren couldn't bear to drive it.  He sold it.  Made enough to put a down payment on another truck.  He feels hope.  He's excited about his new truck.  His joy came back.  My anger faded. 

I am glad I was here.  To put my arm around him as we watched the tow truck pull up and dump the stolen vehicle in our driveway.  To see his face light up talking about his new truck.  To feel the anger and the sadness and to see the happiness he felt again.

I almost missed it. I'm glad I didn't. Even though it hurt.  I felt like a real live person.  Anger feels better then feeling nothing at all.  So I guess I'm grateful for anger.  And grateful that it fades and melts away into something better. Something like joy.  One day I'll believe that I deserve to feel that one too.

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