Month: October 2015

35 is the new 25, right?

Welp. I’m 35.

Remember when you were 10 and 35 seemed positively ancient? Yeah. Well, 10-year-old self, you were right about one thing: I feel positively ancient. Though I don’t think I had factored in the freakish MVA back then. But still.

When my mum turned 35, I turned 10 the same year. I wonder if she felt as ancient as I feel. And here’s the thing: when Grunt turns 10, I’ll turn 43. FORTY THREE. If 35 feels ancient, then 43 is probably decrepit. I mean, I’m just guessing here, but I assume it only gets worse.

In all honesty, with all joking aside, I do feel older this year. Now, maybe it’s because there have been so many challenges, and maybe it’s because I have been rough on myself while trying to take them all on, but for the first time, I feel my age. However, MiniSir and I were listening to the radio last week and the DJ asked what year we thought was our “best year” – the age we were at when we thought we were our best selves. MiniSir said this past year he felt like his best self.

My answer was “this next year”.

And although I can’t see the future, I can tell you that I feel good. I have 6 more pounds to lose to hit my goal weight (my weight pre-accident), and I feel amazing about that. It’s been a slow but steady loss, more of a lifestyle change than a diet. I am committing to buying myself new clothes (and nice clothes too!) to replace the ones that I have out-shrunk. My tenure as President of the Condo Board will be up in a couple of months, and I’m looking forward to enjoying new projects in my spare time that are about what interests me. Grunt will turn 2 – that magical threshold age where you can suddenly enrol him in cool stuff like baby tumbling.

Sure, we haven’t managed to sell the house, but that’s okay: MiniSir and I are making plans for basement and bathroom renos instead. Because why not make our space more like ours if we are stuck here? The excitement that comes with choosing paint and flooring and fixtures is steadily building. Plus more space for my Ponies collection. Which apparently just keeps growing.

So let’s make this next year, “The Year of Krista”. I’ll start.

35 years old, huh? Looking pretty good, kiddo. Pretty good indeed.


I Am A Terrible Blogger

Really. Just awful.

I originally started this blog as a method of therapy, a way to express myself in a safe environment where I could work out my thoughts and feelings while trying to navigate through life an anxious, post-traumatic stress-ridden woman in a new city. And so far, I’ve posted intermittently and never on a schedule.

I should have known that schedules were never going to work. However, I should also have known that writing would make me feel better.

The past few months I’ve been struggling with a relapse of depression and anxiety. It all started when I began taking a drug to help me with a completely unrelated physical issue and ended up quite depressed as a side effect. My doctor put a “cease and desist” on the drugs immediately upon seeing me again, and now I am waiting to see a specialist next month for some more testing and alternate options. However, since coming off the drug, I’ve still been struggling to get back to myself, the self I was before I started them – the balanced, “totally got this and don’t need more meds” me.

It isn’t working.

I bawled after getting out of the shower today because I was thinking about something that may (but 99.9% won’t) happen. And if that isn’t a classic symptom of anxiety’s cold fingers prying in my brain again, I don’t know what else would be. My sleep is beginning to be effected; I’m having more difficulty falling asleep and more difficulty waking up. I don’t want to do anything. Even MiniSir says I seem listless.

Yes, hello depression. Glad to see you could join us.

I have yet to relapse to anything PTSD related yet – thankfully – because if I do that, I will have a really hard time driving myself anywhere. And winter is nearly upon us, which means winter drivers and driving conditions and there’s a whole new heap of things to be anxious about.

So I am seeking help now. I have a call in to my psychiatrist, and if I can’t get in to see him soon I will talk to my doctor immediately.

In the mean time, if you see me and I look like I could use a hug, I could use a hug. Hug me. I am a good hugger. I like hugs.

(I would also like someone to buy my house. But that’s another blog post for another time.)