A Whole Lotta Nothin

December 21st came and went, and the world is still here. No apocalypse — and I turned 32.

And, believe it or not, folks, without Cymbalta and Abilify in my system, I haven’t been having seizures.  I don’t know if the medications were lowering my seizure threshold or what, but it’s been nearly 3 weeks now since the last time I had an episode, and I am more than alright with that.

In fact, the last time I had a seizure, I was in the hospital with video monitors on me. Now, I’m no doctor, but if the last time I took those antidepressants was November 30th, and the last time I had a seizure was ~ December 6, I would have a tendency to think that the medications were messing with me.

It’s now December 26, and I’m brazenly showering alone – with no one home.  Watch out world —  I might even start cooking by myself again.

Making My Peace With Santa Claus

So one thing many of you probably don’t know about me is that I have a long-time deep-seated, almost loathing hatred of Santa Claus. It goes way back to being a Jewish kid who went to an Episcopal girls’ school where I was constantly reminded of how Santa was most certainly not going to visit me. Bastard visited everyone else, giving them toys and candy, but not me, because I was Jewish.

Well, this year, I got to see my husband dressed up as the jolly giant to bring mirth to my niece and nephew for Christmas. And truth be told, he looked adorable and brought a lot of happiness to not only the children, but to the rest of the family as well.

I had to realize that eventually, when we have our kids, they’re getting visited by Santa, whether I like it or not. And even though it used to burn me up inside that kids were being lied to by their parents (since we all know that Santa is really just parents messing with their kids) and that they used that lie to make me jealous, I’m grown up enough now to make a truce with that hurt little kid inside me. I don’t need to perpetuate the pain of being excluded from a benevolent spirit’s giving spree — especially not if I truly believe that God is all-inclusive.

So even though Santa didn’t visit me this year (Why should this year be any different than any previous year?), he’s off my naughty list.

Getting Back to Basics

As for the rest of life, I’m fighting hard to reclaim life from depression. Without meds in my system, getting back routine is the name of the game. Aside from making sure I’ve got hygiene well in hand, I’m doing my best to just get the daily work of life done — to not slack on the things that need doing: like folding clothes, doing the dishes, tidying the house. I’m working to replace inaccurate thoughts with ones that make more sense. I’m trying my best to be more positive and conscious of how I treat myself. I constantly remind myself that I am not in control of whether I live or die, and that I am only in control of what I do with myself. I try to choose positive thoughts and actions.

And I’m positive that the correct action to take right now is to stop writing and start cleaning.

Hope you’re having a happy Boxing day.