You May Not Want to Read This... I'm Not Even Sure I Want to Write It.

Today, according to my training schedule, should have been a cross-training strength day. I may pay minimal attention to that in a bit - perhaps some crunches and a few minutes of core exercises before bed. Really, I just wanted to run. Plans derailed by family drama. Yesterday's tempo run was pretty awesome. But although I'm starting this post by talking about my marathon, I'm going to take a sharp right turn here and start talking about the other thing plaguing my life right now.

Because I can't lie. I feel like shit. Emotional wreckage, upset stomach, the usual exhaustion.... Let me start closer to the beginning...

I used to work night shift as a nurse on the ICU. Up until June of this year, I'd worked nights almost uninterrupted for about 5 years - immediately on becoming an RN, that was the shift I worked. I took time off for the baby, I did a little stint as a home health nurse, but that's been my life for several years. I had come to feel like the zombie-half-life of a night shift worker was actually my normal state. In June I took this new job as Stroke Nurse - a regular day job. And I thought surely my exhaustion would disapate once I got ued to the new normal. Just a few weeks, and I would be raring with energy. Nope. SO wrong. I fall asleep in meetings. I nap at my desk (I set an alarm, it's only 15 minutes max... but still.. who does that shit?) I come dangerously close to sleeping behind the wheel. I feel physically ill I fight it so hard some days. It's embarassing, it's dangerous, and it pisses me off. SO I told my doctor. "Roll eyes" Her first question was, "Are you taking Benedryl?" Yeah - sure, thanks for assuming I'm a moron. Eventually she agreed to draw my blood. No anemia. Vitamin D a low normal, nothing remarkable there. So I started taking a million units of Vitamin D and signed up for a sleep study. That's tomorrow night. But I don't think that's the real problem.

Well in the mean time, being a nurse I'm inclined to think all the worst things. Chronic fatigue syndrome? I refuse. Cancer? Probably not.  Depression. Now that one is a very real possibility. I have issues. Daddy issues. Mommy issues. self-esteem issues, a healthy dose of OCD, type AAA+, and hoarding runs in the family just for a little cherry on top.  So why not depression too? Of course we're a good midwestern family - we don't talk about such things. Mental illness happens to other people. Not us. Never us.

Comparing notes with friends who have gone through therapy, medications, ECT... I've pretty much diagnosed myself. I'm not at the dangerous, suicidal level. Just at the 'some days it isn't worth getting out of bed' stage. Of course, I'm stubborn as hell so I do keep getting out of bed. And feeling miserable and exhausted. And as I write this, I feel like I should apologize to you Dear Reader. Because I'm not perfect. And I should be - in my head I should be... Unreasonable, but there you have it. I want to hold up a perfect image to the world and have it be true.

I emailed a therapist tonight. My husband had a disagreement (fight) with my mother at the dinner table and I fell apart inside a little bit.  (Here's the part where I air our dirty underwear out in public, and my upright, midwestern mother will hate me for doing it) I made my first step toward asking for help. I'm admitting that I need help. I'm not perfect after all. Let's just see where this goes, shall we?

In the mean time - running helps. Figuring skating helps. Having a job with meaning, reading to my kids every night, writing, music - all helps. So, I'm sorry for taking this right turn into my own personal misery. I'll try to make the next post happier. Lots of people have it worse than I do. I know that. And I thank you for 'listening'. It helps. I'll get through this. I'm too damn stubborn not too.

And here's my obligitory link to my fundraising page: RIGHT HERE! (Don't feel obligated to give just because I just figuratively sobbed all over your shoulder)