I have noticed that times of transition tend to increase my anxiety and depression symptoms. To an extent, I like to know what to expect, and to have an orderly working environment.
Tomorrow Mark returns to his normal work schedule — Christmas vacation is over. We’re both ready — it was nice, but it’s time to get back to normal.
One of the things I’m doing is overthinking the rug purchase. Shopping is somewhat of an ordeal for me, because “what I want” is a nebulous, ethereal, changeling entity, even without considering whether or not I need whatever it is. I have, however, learned a lot over the years about what I like and what I don’t.
So, this rug. Does it look okay with the couch and chair? Do I need to replace the afghan and pillows? Does the African batik still look okay in this room? Is the rug’s near east style “me”?
I’m mostly at peace, knowing that this second-guessing is just something I do almost any time I buy something. It will pass.
Another thing I’m doing is I find myself listening to paranoid thoughts about my social life. It was about this time last year, I think, that I started getting depressed, largely focused on the disintegration of the playgroup and my role in it. The group has revived with the influx of several new moms this year — will it hold this time? Are the other moms starting to rethink how much they do or do not want to be around me? And even though I know I haven’t called, emailed, or invited my friends as much as I’d have liked to, I still wonder if some haven’t called, emailed, or invited me because they’re trying to send a rejection message, or because they’re just busy like I’ve been.
I have exercised some initiative — I’ve arranged a playdate for Friday, and started talking to Beth about scheduling T-tapp workouts.
I have seen one relationship cautiously restored, which also gives me hope in general. Not every social setback is permanent or insurmountable.
There’s also just vague, generic anxiety and depression — I am fairly confident that it’s the normal transition thing and not something to worry about, but, again, last year it developed into a major depression. I’m back on meds, though, so there’s some good reason not to expect another major episode.