• Not Enough.

    I have an appointment with my general practitioner next week. I say that like I see her regularly, when the truth is: I’ve only visited her office once, and it was a “new patient” visit like…maybe 7 years ago? When I called to make an appointment for a “yearly checkup” they said, “Um…if you don’t come to see her in 3 years we assume you’ve found another doctor and she is not currently accepting new patients.”

    WHAT? You mean I get PUNISHED for not coming in? I assumed there would be smiley-face stickers all over my chart for all of the years passed without a visit!

    Anyway – she’s “accepting” me again since Donnie goes a bit more regularly than I do.

    I’m going to talk to her about medicating my anxiety/depression and recommending me to a psychiatrist (I was seeing a non-prescribing therapist) which is a big step at this point because I haven’t considered medication in over a decade.

    You see, I’m a pragmatic kind of girl and I like to quantify things, and it’s hard to measure that point when, “Okay. Time to medicate.” But lately I found a way.

    I don’t enjoy the things I should be enjoying. The things I used to look forward to are no longer a priority. The things that raise my spirits have become a chore.

    The last several months things I love, trail runs with my friends, book clubs, date night, time with the kids, family dinners…all of those things have become things I either skip, forget about, or I have to force myself to do. I FORGOT ABOUT BOOK CLUB LAST NIGHT. Book Club is my favorite night of the month. I go even if I don’t read the book because the women there build me up spiritually and fill my cup so I can go on with my life and GUESS WHAT? I FORGOT.

    If I hadn’t already been considering medication before last night? I would be now.

    But it’s not just that. I have to drag myself to social gatherings to hang with people I love. There was a big part of me actually kinda relieved this past Sunday was our last trail run group of the season because it’s such a chore to get myself out of bed to do that thing. AND THAT THING IS THE BEST THING. Logically? I know I love these people and they always renew my soul but I’m stuck in such a fog lately I don’t even like doing the things that I know I actually love doing.

    I don’t read as much. I don’t color as much. I just kinda push myself through the fog every day and this is all very quantifiable and when you add it all up it says: SELF CARE IS NOT ENOUGH ANY MORE. I’m exercising, I’m eating better, I’m not drinking, I’ve been to therapy (not in awhile, but still), I’m doing all the things they tell you to do to care for yourself and I’m still dreading the things I love. DREADING. There’s a thing going on this morning that Stable Kim would have woken up SO EXCITED ABOUT. But instead? I had to convince myself to go. I had to tell myself that this is for someone I adore and they deserve me to GET OUT OF THE DAMN BED and GO, DAMMIT. YOU OWE THIS PERSON! GET OVER YOURSELF!

    So I’ll talk to her next week because now I can quantify my fog and evaluate it pragmatically and determine: Yes. When the things that are supposed to sooth my broken spirit become chores, I can quantify my anxiety and depression and conclude that what I’m doing is NOT ENOUGH.