Honest to a Fault ....

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.... is what I can sometimes be .... I think.

Some people do not enjoy my honesty on my personal blog.

I've learned to hold back on some things ..... things that will have an effect on those I love. Although sometimes holding back puts me in a very, very lonely place.

I wish that I could just pour out every single feeling that comes my way when something happens that I don't know how to handle.

But I can't.

Not on that blog.

Unless I can figure out a way to make that blog unreadable for some people, yet readable to anyone who finds solace or hope or support or just plain understanding here.

Those are the people that I really write for. The ones on this path with me.

The people who read this blog.

And I know that I can be totally honest and open here.

 

Yes, the honesty helps my friends and family to understand me better .... the me that stays hidden most days.

But it also can embarrass or unfortunately, offend others .... when that is never my intent.

I just write.

I write what I feel.

And I write what I think other widows/widowers can relate to or feel.

 

So, in spite of maybe being too honest for some people .... I'm forging ahead today.

 

I have not kept the fact that I am on anti-depressants a secret.

I started taking them approximately 2 to 3 months after Jim died.

I started taking them when I started thinking of suicide regularly and the thought of my 6 children didn't matter any more.

Fortunately I still had the wherewithal at that time to know this was a very dangerous sign.

So I went to my doctor, who doesn't like to mix meds and grieving, but once she asked a few followup questions she immediately changed her mind and started me on them that day.

Smart lady.

 

They helped.

They didn't stop the thoughts, but the thoughts never became plans.

Until last summer.

When I had a couple of very close calls.

I did not plan them.

I just lost complete control .... maybe what some people would call a nervous breakdown.

Twice.

And I knew, without a doubt, that I could not do this anymore.

Fortunately God put the right person in the right place at the right time.

And I did not succeed.

Now I can see that was a good thing.

Then .... not so much.

 

So back to my doctor I went.

She prescribed a bigger dose and an extra med.

 

And I slowly started feeling better.

Slowly.

Very, very slowly.

One step, heck ... back to one breath .... at a time.

 

Fast forward to a year later.

The past 6 months have been good.

Better all of the time.

Don't get me wrong .... I still have some days when I take one or two steps backwards, but those days are few and far between. I'm sure they'll always be with me.

Always.

 

I went to my doctor earlier this week and told her that I wanted to try to get weaned off of these meds.

She looked rather skeptical.

And a little worried.

She asked why.

I told her that I'd never had to take them before Jim died and I'd just like to see if I can live without them.

I don't think she's so certain that I can.

But she's working with me.

 

I am on half a dose for 2 weeks.

Then that dose every other day for 2 more weeks.

And then off completely after that.

Two weeks later I go in to see her.

 

If I have a "depressive episode" any time during those 6 weeks .... I go back on the meds.

For the rest of my life.

I'm not opposed to that .... I'd just like to see if it's necessary.

 

Why am I telling you, mostly complete strangers, all of this?

Because .... I know that I am not alone.

And because ..... the more people who know this .... the more people who will be aware of any changes in me that need to be noted.

C knows.

He's a bit worried.

I think he's more worried that he won't see something that needs to be seen.

I think he will.

 

I need to be able to tell the difference between just feeling sad (which sometimes happens when you're a widow/widower) and feeling depressed.

It's a fine line.

One that I'm not sure I can see anymore.

 

So there you go.

Probably not the uplifting post you thought you'd read today.

But .... it's an honest one.

For good or bad.

 

I hope that in being honest about this part of my life I am able to make a connection with someone else who reads this.

And let that person know that he/she is not alone in this.

Not by a long shot.

 

Thanks, friends.

For being there.

And for those who comment.

The comments are great encouragement.

They mean a lot.

Always.


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