overcome depression and anxiety

The goal is to overcome depression and anxiety—not be cured. These are issues and emotions I will deal with for the rest of my life. But, after much soul searching, some lifestyle changes, and therapy, I’ve finally learned how to move through anxiety to achieve my goals. As a result, the depression is also losing its grip on me. I now have the tools to cope with whatever life throws at me.

So, with all that said, it’s time to cross this off my list.

That was when I adopted Regis. He should still be here with me, damn it. :(

I miss you so much, Reeg. You were and are a very special little dog.

I was really upset this afternoon. I went to Ikea, which was upsetting because I saw a couple of Pug pictures and had to fight back tears. Also, I was with my sister who always complains about money, which was a reminder of my own financial situation (not working due to health problems and lack of a driver’s license). I’d been in such a good mood over the past week and that good mood just shattered, as easily as a balloon can be popped.

So, when my sister dropped me off at home, I went to the living room and talked to my mother. I was crying pretty hard when my two-year-old niece came up to me and said, “Don’t cry, Aunt Jen. It’s okay.” Aww.

At that point, I realized that I needed to stop worrying so much about my current situation and start looking for solutions instead. I often make myself sick with stress (stomach problems, leg cramps, headaches) over issues that can be fixed with a little patience and perseverance. There’s no reason to keep torturing myself over such things!

And by “try again,” I mean adopt another dog.

I got to thinking about what killed Regis—acute renal (kidney) failure. It’s different from the chronic form in that it appears suddenly and almost always kills quickly. (Dogs with chronic kidney failure can often live several more years with medication and a special diet.) I’m still haunted by what happened to my little boy. I’ve had many, many animals over the years, but I’ve never seen anything that so viciously destroyed an animal both inside and out.

My fear now is that my next dog will get it. I know certain breeds are predisposed to kidney problems and that it tends to strike middle aged or older dogs. The chronic variety is more common, too. Also, I’ve lived with five dogs, four of whom have since died—and Regis was the only one who got this disease. And Cody, my current dog, is over fifteen years old and doesn’t have it, either. So the odds are pretty good that the new dog won’t be affected, but I’m terrified nonetheless.

Sometimes I swear I’m going to stop keeping animals and just focus on attracting wildlife because the pain of losing them is so great. (I’ve already stopped getting rodents and other animals with super short lifespans.) But I know I’ll end up adopting eventually because there are so many animals in need of a loving home and the house feels too damn empty. I could have a dog or cat twenty years and it wouldn’t be nearly long enough, though. :(

Isn’t that a great quote? I just had to share it.

I’m doing some life list spring cleaning this week. I actually feel better, not worse, after removing a few goals (and not adding others to the list). I want to use both my head and heart in selecting goals and making decisions.

So far, so good! :)

It’s still my birthday for a few more minutes, and what a birthday it’s been! I got so many wishes and kind messages from people I know and strangers, too, in “real life” and online, too. Thank you so much to everyone who participated in that birthday goal here on 43T. You have no idea how happy you made me! :D

About my day…My middle sister, the one I’m closest to, took me out to breakfast and then to the Women’s Museum in Dallas. I’d never been there before but have been dying to go since I first heard of it a few months ago. Amazing! It’s incredibly inspiring reading all these stories about women in the past and the brave things they did. Now more than ever, I’m motivated to work through my fears and prove that I, too, can make changes for the better—both in my life and in the world.

The day ended with a Subway veggie sandwich for dinner and cake and ice cream. My birthday is being extended, though, because I’m getting belated gifts from my family: garden gnomes, an iPod shuffle, and materials to make a sock monkey with. :)

One very wise therapist I had (the first one, I think) said that my anxiety seems to be causing my depression. For the most part, I agree. I’ve had anxiety and phobias since I was about five or six, and chronic depression since I was seventeen.

More than anything, what upsets me is not having a sense of direction and solid goals. Well, okay, there are some things that I know in my heart are right for me, like singing in a band and creating a wildlife habitat. But there are many others I’m undecided on, and I’d like to come to a decision on them soon. Yes or no, not maybe, maybe not. Making a decision and sticking to it is one of my biggest challenges.

Another thing that I’m having trouble with is balancing the different sides of my personality. Part of me loves animals and plants and spending as much time as possible outdoors…The other part of me writes dark stories and lyrics, wants to go to concerts all the time, and thinks tattoos and piercings are really cool. Right now, my inner nature nut is very happy, but I’m also bored out of my mind and desperate for excitement.

I have to learn to balance that need for peace and tranquility with my desire to have interesting, exciting experiences in order to enjoy life and stop feeling so miserable. And, of course, I need to figure out how to make decisions, too.

This entry isn’t about grief…At least, not the kind of grief that came from Regis’s death. Hmm. Maybe it is about grief.

Anyway, I’ve started going through my possessions, with the intention of donating anything I don’t want or need anymore. I realized that I also need to let go of the negative energy I have towards certain members of my family. My father, for example, and both of my (older) sisters.

I remember telling my therapist about getting dumped by my “best friend” last November, and how this person had expectations for me that I couldn’t live up to. My therapist’s response was, “It sounds like you had some expectations for her, too.”

That made me think. Yes, I guess I did. For example, I expected her to give me my space when I needed it, and she believes that withdrawing emotionally is, in her own words, “not the answer.”

I can see now that I had expectations for my father and expect my sisters to be a certain way as well. I wanted them to be supportive and compassionate and sensitive. My mother is all of those things, and sometimes my middle sister is, too. My oldest sister, on the other hand, takes after my father—often cold and controlling.

All I can do is change myself, because I can’t change my sisters’ behavior, any more than I can change the fact that my father was a hateful, miserable man. He’s been dead for four years, and my sisters…Well, I don’t see them all that often. It doesn’t make any sense to let their negativity continue to affect my mood.

To quote a character from one of my favorite books, I’ve got more important things to do than grieve for what you and I couldn’t be.

I’m going to wait awhile longer before adopting another dog. I have to grieve first and really think about what I need and want from my next dog before I make a commitment.

It’ll be difficult, but just being honest and admitting that I need more time makes me feel less stressed already. In the meantime, I plan to concentrate on improving other areas of my life until I’m ready to make this decision.

Is made a little easier by my belief that my animals cross over, if you will, when another animal really needs me. The absence of one opens up room in my home and heart for someone else.

In a few weeks or a month or so, I’ll submit an application to Pug rescue. The emptiness is awful, but I know it’s important to grieve and start healing before I’ll be ready for another dog.

Right now, I’m still coming to terms with the fact that Regis is actually gone. I’ll often glance at my bed, expecting to see him there, or think about giving him medication at certain times of the day before I remember that I don’t have to anymore.

This is a different grief from what I had with Sandy, the dog I had before him. In that case, I was hysterical because it was so unexpected. The emergency vet told me she was fine and then she died a few weeks later.

Things were different with Regis. I was told on the day of his exam that he was seriously ill, and I cared for him as he got sicker and sicker over the next two weeks. I cried a lot during this time. Maybe that’s why I’m not crying as much now. I mostly feel numb and empty, but part of me is relieved that his suffering is over. Even the vet admitted that sometimes there’s nothing even he can do, and, if a professional says it…

I loved Regis (still do, of course) and cared for him the best I could, and now all I can do is cherish those memories and honor him.