It has been an interesting year here at Casa Amelia. I’m grateful to say that my family is healthy, as long as you count “coughing up a lung” as healthy because all of us are doing that right now. That’s right; it is a veritable snotfest at our house. There are dishes on every surface, because all of us are too sick to clean them. I think maybe someone did the catbox? I don’t know; I just avoid the laundry room all together right now. It isn’t like we’re doing laundry.
I am very grateful that no one got into any trouble at school, and I only had one rage-filled school moment this year. That’s an improvement over past years, to be sure! I did make a pretty bad parenting error and accidentally grounded my youngest for two months. That has been a laugh riot, let me tell you. Tantrums and arguing, the most wonderful sound of family. But, hey, at least we still have voices, right? Well, except for those of us with laryngitis.
In the last three months, I realized that my body image and food consumption had become quite disordered. I have done eating disorder work in the past. I thought I had conquered it, but no, it is back for a nasty round of Amelia, hate thyself the likes of which I have not seen in many years. Something about the combination of medical issues and some weight gain has triggered hellaciously bad cognitive and emotional symptoms. So, back into treatment I go. I hired a nutritionist, and she is awesome and helpful. So that sucks. On the plus side, the terrible Canadian exchange rate makes her fee cheaper than I expected. Woo.
I have managed to anger my bio family regarding holiday plans, which was a surprise. I’ve had some interesting emails and voicemails flinging around the last day or two. While I’ve done a boat load of shame resilience work, nothing hits you below the belt like making your parents mad. I feel OK in my position, and I’m using my holiday mantra (choose discomfort over resentment), but it hasn’t been super fun.
I had two bouts with depression this year, one in the spring and one in fall. One was for no reason whatsoever. They were blessedly mild, but I did not enjoy the symptoms weighing me down like an elephant on my chest. I played a lot of “Witcher 3” and “Fallout 4,” so I guess I got something accomplished? As a result, I’m still not up to snuff with going to the gym like I should, and some of my personal goals were derailed. Whee. Also, I am still super bitchy when I’m anxious. Super. Bitchy.
My husband still has bipolar disorder. That still looks shitty sometimes, with arguing and hurt feelings and resentment and apathy and other fun times. He’s doing really well, incidentally.
Some really good stuff happened to me this year, too, and I just want you all to know that this was a normal year. I can’t count it among the very bad times in my life. I used to think I was a failure if everything didn’t go perfectly. If I haven’t conquered depression and body hate and arguing with my spouse, I must be doing something wrong. Now, I think it’s normal to struggle with emotion. Not fun but certainly part and parcel of a life wherein there is mental illness, physical illness and human nature involved.
So, from my wild ride of a household to yours, happy no-shame holiday!