Step Away From the Donkey

My high-functioning depression knows when to slip in.

Yesterday, the last day of school, was non-stop testing. Bang it out, donʻt stop, keep going til itʻs done. Iʻve been administering these assessments for the last ten years, maybe, so I got it down.

The tests themselves are easy and each only lasts one minute. I explain the instructions, start the timer, ding!, tell them to stop, repeat. I hear the same thing over and over (and over) again. I say the same thing over and over again.

I love it because I get to sit down with just about every student in the school. I get to visit with them for a few brief moments, which is even more meaningful now that Covid prevents us from actually interacting on a regular basis.

But it meant, yesterday, no self care. I could have, but didnʻt, take a break. I didnʻt, though I could have, stop for lunch. I just plowed through the testing, scored MOST of them (sorry, Lori!), packed up my personal things, and took down my crap off the walls. This took the entire school day.

By the time I was closing up the classroom, I was famished, headachey, and tired. I could feel myself slipping. I knew where I was going. Home, yes, but specifically my bed. Iʻd be curled up, half-dressed, trying to keep myself afloat. 

And I knew, I knew it was because I didnʻt listen to myself. I should have taken more brain breaks, I shouldnʻt have waited until nearly 4pm to eat lunch, I shouldnʻt have tried to pack all my crap and haul it home in one go.

So, at 2:45pm yesterday, you would have found me curled up on my bed, tears streaming down my face. Itʻs a success, though, that I gave myself space to cry it out. Itʻs a success (and itʻs super important to acknowledge this) that I wasnʻt sobbing uncontrollably, which is what happens in my darker moments. Itʻs an enormous success that I could identify what triggered this reaction because then itʻs more manageable: eat, Kanani, and rest.

Take care, my friends. Tend to your mental and physical health. Listen to yourselves. Honor your inner voice when it urges you to take a break. I guess I needed the reminder that running on fumes sucks donkey butt.

Learn from my mistakes, yo. Donʻt suck donkey butt.

My Four Closest Friends (or Another Note to Self)

"You are an average of your four closest friends," Jonah said to me last night. He wasnʻt talking about me specifically, and the message he was really trying to convey was: what do your close friendships say about you?

This slight change in perspective has been super impactful today.

Because I have amazing fucking friends. They are smart, perceptive, kind, generous people. The manaʻo they share blows my mind.

And often, Iʻve felt myself unworthy of the love they show me. Their patience and compassion.

I think I suck. 

But if I consider how beautiful they are and that theyʻre MY friends-- they choose to be friends with ME-- then maybe Iʻm amazing and beautiful, too.

I cherish my friends. I love them. I would never hurt them, and if I did, Iʻd remedy it as quick as I could. Whenever they call on me, I try to be there, and if for some reason I canʻt, I work hard to explain why. Because theyʻre important to me. Because itʻs who I am. Because I cannot do anything less. (To be honest, my friends know this about me, anyway, so no need explain, even. But I still do cuz no can help.)

Then I look at myself. Who am I? What kind of person am I? You wanna know what I came up with? It surprised me.

Iʻm the person Iʻd treasure. Iʻm the person Iʻd cherish. Iʻm the person Iʻd make that effort for. Because Iʻm a pretty fucking kick-ass person. I didnʻt always know this.

Iʻve been through a lot. Iʻm still going through a lot. Meredith called it "high-functioning" depression, and I laughed. Itʻs true. Sometimes I canʻt tell if itʻs the depression or anxiety thatʻs getting me, though probably Iʻm sure itʻs both. But Iʻm high-functioning so even though maybe I canʻt clean the fucking house or return a simple email (let alone read the fucking thing), I can laugh, listen, teach, comb my hair, floss, pick people up and drop them off. Most days, Iʻm good.

Point is, if I were my friend (and, you know, not me), Iʻd be kind to me. If I were my friend, I wouldnʻt consider myself a burden, Iʻd be stoked to know me, Iʻd think it an honor to help. How do I know that? Because I never think that when one of my friends needs me. I never think, "What a hassle she is!"

Thatʻs what Iʻve always thought of myself. A burden. A humbug. Asking for help meant burdening people, giving them a reason to reject me. Get rid of me. But Iʻd never do that to any of you! And I think you all know that. Yes, lately, Iʻve been dropping a lot of balls. I donʻt text back, I donʻt do what I say Iʻll do, I canʻt commit. Iʻm sorry. I only have so much bandwidth these days. I hate being unreliable.

Nevertheless, Jonahʻs words last night have been helping me see myself differently-- as a person worth loving, caring about, making an effort for. Iʻm the kind of person Iʻd work at to keep in my life. There are a few people who have "unhomied" me (go watch Atypical on Netflix, yo), and for long time I wondered what I did. I felt disposable. Long time it took me to understand itʻs not me. And even if it was me, then why didnʻt they say something?

Itʻs not always easy to remember my worth. I easily forget how special I am. I forget how much love I bring, how much I give. I forget how fun I am, how smart I am, how compassionate and thoughtful. I forget that Iʻm accepting and safe, open-minded and silly. I know Iʻm flawed and Iʻm always trying to be better. Do better. My sometimes fragile mental health doesnʻt make me weak, it makes me stronger. It makes me work, learn, change, grow.

I forget that Iʻm a prize.

And now that I have caught a glimpse of this beautiful person-- I can see her kind heart, playful spirit, and keen mind-- maybe I can value her. Maybe I can treat her better. Maybe I can love her.

She deserves it.

I deserve it.