Monthly Archives: February 2003

Animals are family too

A few months back, Ethans bunny died. Her name was Sarah. It was one of the saddest things I can ever remember.
I went out to feed the bunnies in the morning while the kids were getting ready for school. Right away I noticed Sarah (Ethans bunny) was laying there stiff as a board. My heart sunk because I knew how much Ethan loved her. I didn’t know what to do. As I turned around to come inside, I realized Ethan was standing right behind me.
“What’s wrong with Sarah, mommy? Why isn’t she moving?” “I’m sorry, sweetheart, Sarah died.”

He started to cry so hard. I just picked him up and held him as he sobbed. Of course I was crying like a baby, too. It was heart wrenching. We had a long talk about Sarah being in animal heaven and how Sarah would be his little angel now and watch over him during the day. This seemed to comfort him.

I took him to school and told his teacher what had happened and told him to call me if he was having a hard time during the day. He was fine all day, and when I picked him up the first thing he said to me was this.
“Mommy, can Sarah hear me?” I told him, yes, that Sarah would hear him if he wanted to talk to her. He said “okay mommy , excuse me for a minute.” He turned around, looked up to the sky, blew a kiss and said “goodbye Sarah, I love you so much and I’ll miss you.”

Oh. my. God. I lost it. It was the sweetest thing ever.

I tell this story because my husband wants to get rid of our dog. He’s becoming a pain in the ass. He’s digging everywhere and he gets out when we’re not home. Anyway, I’m completely against it because my kids are totally attached to the dog and I don’t think you just get rid of a dog when he gets to be too much work. I think it sends a bad message to the kids, and it’s cruel. I told him I’m not going to let him do it because it will break the kids hearts. I know he’s just feeling frustrated right now and I honestly don’t think he could ever do that. But still, to even suggest it. Ugh.

Today I talked to Ethan about it and told him daddy wanted to get rid of him, so he better start helping take care of him. He got the biggest frown I’ve ever seen, put his head down and said “it’s just like Sarah, if you get rid of him my heart is going to feel sad like I did about Sarah when she died.”
Ouch! THERE IS NO WAY WE ARE GETTING RID OF THE DOG!

If I cut myself, will I still bleed?

I haven’t had much to say for the last few days. It’s very strange, but the Proz*ac has really kicked in and I feel a little “different”.
For one, I can’t cry. This is odd to me because I used to cry all the time, now I can’t cry even when things that used to make me cry are brought up. I just feel so mellow. I don’t ramble on as much, I don’t get upset as easily. I feel… calm?
It’s a little strange to get used to. I wish I could explain it better, but I feel so different. It’s a good thing in many ways. I was crying all the time, I was always upset and on edge. But I feel like I’ve gone to the opposite extreme now and I’m not sure how to deal with it.
I just wonder if it will balance itself out or if I will feel like this all the time now? I have a follow up appointment with my doctor on Thursday and I’ll talk with him about it then. I just hope it will balance out a bit.
I think I’m going to go put Steel Magnolias on and see if I cry. I always cry in that movie, ALWAYS. If I don’t, I’m going to be so freaked out.

my dirty little secret.

Apparently I’m supposed to be ashamed that I’m taking prozac and I shouldn’t be telling anyone.
I hate the stigma attached to taking anti depressants. That is why I fought it for so long. I wanted to get better on my own because I wasn’t “crazy”. Only crazy and weak people needed pills to get better. At least that’s what I was told. That is not true. I had to get help, I was on a dark and dangerous path and I wanted to get better for my children.
My parents would freak out if they knew I was taking it. They would tell me I’m like this because I have turned my back on God and that he’s the only one who can make me better.
I realize that the medication is not the only the answer, I am taking other steps to get well, but obviously, I needed it. For the past few months I had cried nonstop, all night, while my kids were at school. I have felt overwhelmed by the most simple tasks, like housework, paying bills, etc. I haven’t been out much because of the way I feel. It’s a horrible place to be. Depression is real and it’s ugly. So why should I be ashamed because I’m trying to get better?
I am already feeling stronger. I haven’t cried in a few days and slowly I’m picking up the pieces of the mess I’ve made of things here. It’s not easy and I’m sure there are going to be many bumps in the road to getting healthy again and finding peace, but I’m trying and that’s all I can do. I am not weak because I needed help in the process.