Staci\'s a quirky bird

Ok, so maybe I’m being a little melodramatic. But still, I’m just now writing again as I’ve dragged myself out of the funky black hole I’ve been living in for the last few months. Things have been impossible these last months, and in all facets of my life. So here’s the spill.

Quirky Bird was going through some growing pains throughout the fall…training a new programmer, changing our process to streamline, trying to get websites up before Christmas. It’s always a completely insane time of year for us, and this year we had more clients than ever trying to go live. Then, in December, business came to a screeching halt – which isn’t unusual, it’s just that we didn’t have the clients in the queue that we normally do. It was hard and scary and stressful. And painful.

In mid January, we found out that my grandmother (who is a huge part of the reason why I am who I am today) is terminal with congestive heart failure. My brother and I flew out for several days to hold her, talk with her, love her. I was so beyond heartbreak, I knew it’s probably the last time I’ll see her. Half of her heart isn’t working. But she lives on. That’s how hardcore we are. I’ll have a separate post on that visit eventually, I’m not ready to go there just yet.

Knowing I’d be on a plane a ton, I figured I should get a book. It had been ages since I’ve had time and energy enough to read, I didn’t even know where to start. Then I remembered my sister-in-law had just read the Twilight series and could have had about a litter of tiny werewolves she loved it so much. So I figured why not, right? Yeah. Um, I almost finished it on my way to Houston. Bought the second book in the airport on my way home and finished it the next day. Then threw myself into the final two books to avoid living in the real world with my real problems and real pain. And because I’d been avoiding dealing over that week, I crashed and burned when the books were gone. It was ugly and gnarly and horrible, and I realized that I needed some help.

That’s when I threw my back out.

No idea how, but about 4 of my ribs got knocked out of alignment. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t sleep without feeling like I was getting nailed in the back. Went to the ER where the stellar young doctor who was in a major hurry told me I had a sprain and gave me some vicodin and motrin. Classic. Thank goodness for Chiropractors, mine set me straight and within a few days I was back in action. I’ll tell you – I’m not a crier, I didn’t even cry when I gave birth to either kid (thanks to my anesthesiologist)…but I cried like a little bitty baby just trying to walk or even lay still with my back out.

Though all of this, Jeff (my husband) had started a new job riding an ambulance. His schedule was this – Call the night before and we’ll tell you if you have to work. It was like that for about a month and a half and the stress of taking care of the kids, dealing with the impending loss of my grandmother, and running my company were taking it’s toll. I was slipping away. The week that my back was out was the end of his whack schedule and then he started his set schedule. He was gone that week from Tuesday to Friday from about 7am to about 10pm. By Friday I was a terrific mess. We had no groceries, no clean clothes, the house was a disaster zone, and I couldn’t do anything about it because my back was on the fritz. This was most definitely my lowest of lows.

I called the doctor on Monday and they were able to see me same day. She put me on an anti-depressant/anti-anxiety prescription and told me to cut back on the booze (that I had been using to medicate myself). I started them on a Saturday and was a zombie for about 5 days. Seriously – I was a total drooling doorknob.  It’s been two weeks now, and I’m just starting to feel normal again. I’m still not back to feeling totally like me, but it’s getting better. I’m functioning now, living life instead of just existing. It’s like living in a fishbowl – being depressed. Like everyone can see me but I can’t see anybody. Like being locked in your own mind. And I thought I was ok. I almost didn’t go to the doctor, thinking I was just over reacting. I’m so glad I went, even if it meant that I had a few weeks of a drug induced state of dumbness.

Now the last hurdle – we’re moving to a smaller place to try to downsize our finances. We don’t want to be stuck like we were when we ran out of clients. We want to get to a place where we know that what Jeff makes totally covers us so we can save our cheese for a rainy day. Problem is – we have no idea where we’re moving. And we have to move in 3 weeks. Wish us sanity through this move, it’s hopefully going to be kicking off a new chapter for us that’s us in the upswing instead of hurtling down the rabbit hole.

So that’s my big, fat, long, depressing excuse for where I’ve been. If you made it this far, I hope I haven’t scared the crap out of you…and thanks for reading. And – don’t worry about me. I know everything is going to be ok, I’m an incessant optimist and happy-go-lucky gal and I feel that coming back. A great friend of mine likened me being depressed to superman getting diarrhea (which is quite possibly the most hilarious thing I’ve ever heard). Being happy all the time is sort of my superpower! Thank goodness for my beautiful friends that have helped me through all of this with their shoulders to cry on and bottomless tequila shots.