Chugga Chugga

I know it’s been a long time since my last blog post. I just haven’t felt up to it. No reason in particular really. Just haven’t had the energy to write one. I don’t like forced blogs. When my mind is ready then it’s ready. I think it’s ready.

My most recent stumble into depression has lasted way longer than necessary. My group facilitators (Bill and Anne) have said that it takes a while to recover from a hospitalization. Libbi always tells me that therapy is never a straight line. It is always a roller coaster with a few loops and backward slides. No one ever just chugs forward continuously. So, I’m actually a little normal. Hahaha! Don’t hear me say that too often, do ya?

Joshua’s week at camp was good. He loved it and so did we. You can definitely tell he’s back home. There is a smart mouthed teenager flitting around. Yay! I keep trying to remember that school will be here again before I know it. I just printed out the check-in packet for high school last night. That day is approaching rather quickly.

Heading into a new school is always stressful for kids and parents. I do feel better knowing that there are other kids that Joshua knows at this new school. More so, there are other parents that we will recognize. I found out yesterday that another boy that Joshua was in elementary school with is going to his high school. He will be in a contained classroom, but at least it is another person (and family) we can add to our list of recognizable faces. I think that makes five kids now. Even if they aren’t in the same classes, there is a comforting feeling that surrounds the idea that these people are there.

While Joshua was away at camp, Jason and I decided that it would be a great idea for me to visit him at work. It was a great idea. And I did enjoy the visit once I got there. It was the getting there that was the problem. Jason had gathered all of the information for me. The plan was for me to take the city bus to the train station and then take the train to the last stop where Jason’s work it located. Simple enough. This is something I had never done before but despite my anxiety and nerves I decided I would do it. I have been downtown a ton of times, just never alone. Everything looks different when you’re alone. My group was supportive and thought it would be a huge self esteem booster. My therapist thought it was a big move and supported it. I was sick to my stomach over it but put one foot in front of the other.

The morning came. I got to the bus stop, parked the car and walked to the bench. I sat down, checked the money in my pocket for the 6^th time, reread the bus number and destination name for the 10^th time and took a few deep breaths. The bus pulled up, I compared the numbers and words on the sign with the numbers and words on my paper. It was a match. I stepped on and asked the, less than friendly, bus driver for a transfer for the train. He nodded his head yes. I asked him how much, just to be sure one more time. I had the correct amount and tried to hand the dollar bills to him. He pointed to an electronic dollar machine and told me to put it in there. My shaking fingers shoved the bills into the opening and I took my flimsy transfer ticket. I think they make them out of used tissues. I walked toward the back of the half empty bus and took a seat facing sideways. I don’t know why. It just seemed like the thing to do. I think I felt better knowing I didn’t have my back to anyone. Once we started moving and I saw I was the only one in a seat like this I started questioning myself. I paid attention to what was going on around me. I had gotten this far. Now I just needed to get off of this bus and walk onto the train.

As we approached downtown, I listened intently to what the bus driver grunted. We made three stops or maybe four. Looking back now who knows. Each one he barked or coughed a word out. It was unintelligible. I was ok because I knew I had to get off at the station where everything happened. No one else got off at these other places so I was on the right path. Last stop, Market Street Station. Everyone jumped up and walked off the bus. I followed the pack. I was a sheep. Something I hate!!

I stood outside the bus and looked around. I saw no trains, no train station. I entered the empty bus station and panicked. The only thing there was a booth selling crap. I went up to the lady who did not speak English and asked her which way to the train station. She jabbered at me and pointed in two different directions. I turned and saw someone with an official looking uniform on and started toward him. I was cut off by someone whose problem was obviously more important than mine. I looked up the escalator and saw my bus driver. I followed him and asked him where I should go. He, in his sweet natured way, told me I should have gotten off at the prior stop. Oh, okay, thanks for letting me know. He then told me to take the “free ride” to the next stop. Or I could go the other way. Whichever I chose, I had to go to the canopy and wait. So, confused, I walked to the canopy and waited. Two seconds later a “free ride” shuttle pulled up. The doors opened and I leaned in to ask the driver if it went where I needed it to go. The driver is encased in a plexiglass box with screws and no way to communicate with anyone. Wow. This is friendly. I asked the people crowded at the door if I could get to the train on that shuttle. One lady told me that I could go either way. I was getting tired of the “either way” answer. I just needed one way. Point me to it and I’ll go. I hopped on in time for a man on the shuttle to tell me to move out of the way of the door because other people were trying to get on. The lady then instructed me to go to Stout Street and walk to the train station then tell them I want to go to Lincoln, the final stop. As the doors closed she turned to her husband and said, “let’s walk, I forgot I wanted to walk”. They jumped off as the doors closed. I stood there with my hands clenched on the metal bar in front of me and wondered why I suddenly felt deserted.

Street after street came and went. The automatic voice called out the stops. At least this one I could understand. My street came and I hopped off. I turned in a circle and wondered which direction the train station was. There was a map on a pole and I studied it thoroughly. I found that if I walked West I would run into the station. I started walking. And walking. I stopped and asked a man sweeping the sidewalk if I was headed in the right direction. Guess what he said. “You can go either way” Seriously? He pointed me in two directions, the one I was headed in and then one the opposite way. I decided to just keep going in the same direction I was already going. Finally I reached an empty, dim covered area. There was one man talking to himself on a bench and two Muslim women covered from head to toe walking down the street. I looked at the train map on the pole and saw that my train had left five minutes before. I deflated. I searched for the time of the next one and it said 2:30. It was 11:30 at that moment. I felt myself get nauseas. Something very heavy was sitting on my chest. My throat tightened. I filled with anxiety and panic. I choked back tears and called Jason. I told him what happened. I felt stupid and inadequate. I couldn’t catch my breath. I was lost and alone and I did not know what to do. He didn’t either. He had no computer to look up anything for me. He asked someone at work that takes the train and he said I could go to another station on that same street and take a different train that ends up at the same place. I searched the pole map again and traced the line he suggested. It did go to Lincoln. I just had to get to the station that it left from. How did I do that? I hung up with Jason. Cried. Almost threw up. Leaned over my knees to try to keep myself from passing out. I wiped my face and looked around at how many people had noticed me. No one was there except the man talking to himself on the bench and a new guy who hadn’t showered in a while smoking a cigarette. Yes, for a split second I considered approaching and asking for one. The only thing that stopped me was the concern that he would actually look at me.

I started back the way I came. I walked and walked until I reached 16^th street, the place where the shuttle had stopped. I looked past the road and saw a train station. Right there. In front of me. The “either way” was two steps from where I got off the shuttle. I walked all that way for nothing. I could have made my train if I had looked this direction to begin with. I teared up again. My feelings of stupidity tripled. I crossed the street and went to that station. The new train line I needed did not stop at this station. Why would it? I, once again, studied the train station map. A couple of different colored and lettered lines curved and branched. My trembling finger traced the one I needed back to Union Station. I asked a man standing there if I could take the shuttle back to Union Station. He pointed to the shuttle. Gee, thanks. As I waited for the free ride to stop, a man walked up to me and asked me where the convention center was. He was headed the wrong direction. I pointed him the right way. I only knew this because I had just come from there in my long trek back to this street. It was in the high 90s, it was hot. I had been riding and walking and stressed and panicked. I was sweating and uncomfortable. I got on the shuttle and headed back toward where the original bus dropped me off. We got to Market Street. The familiar name and sights triggered my brain and I got off. I was scared I would miss where I was supposed to go. I walked inside the same empty bus station with the same Asian lady selling crap. My heart stopped. I felt myself start to get sick again. I walked back out and took a breath. My mouth was full of cotton. I was so thirsty. There had to be a way out of this circular nightmare. I walked up to a man sitting on a bench. He was not talking to himself. I asked him how to get to Union Station. He told me to take the next shuttle and then he pointed toward the direction I needed to go. Now was that so hard? He told me how many stops there would be before Union Station and then assured me that it was the last stop so I couldn’t miss it. Then he told me the shuttle was coming and to hurry and catch it. I cried just out of sheer gratitude. I jumped on the shuttle, I repeated the street names in my head that the automated voice called out. They matched the ones the nice man had told me. Union Station appeared. I got off and stared at an empty jumble of tracks. There were no signs. Another family started to head across the tracks to a platform and I, being a sheep, followed them. I saw a train rise up in front of me and I panicked. I tried to read the sign on the front and all I could see was the word “Lincoln”. That’s where I needed to go. I didn’t know what the letter of this train was or what time it was or anything more than that. I ran up to the doors and jumped on. They closed behind me. If I had been a second longer they would have shut me out. I sat down and prayed to the train gods that this was the right one. I grabbed the first seat I saw. It was directly in the sun. The sweat continued to drip down. I dug out my crumpled tissue paper transfer ticket and held onto it tightly. I was ready for a conductor to walk by and take it from me. Three ladies in front of me asked me what to do with the ticket. I told them I had no idea. Then she read the ticket and said that we didn’t need it. That was odd. What is the point in the ticket then? I held onto it just in case. No one ever came by to see it. I contemplated moving to a seat out of the sun and was too nervous to move a muscle. The train voice said we were headed to Lincoln. The little sign in front of me said Lincoln. I hoped we were headed to Lincoln.

I called Jason and told him I was on the train. I also told him that instead of me walking from the station to his building that I needed him to pick me up. I couldn’t do anymore. He agreed.

I made it there. I got off and saw the landmarks that Jason had told me about. I called him and he picked me up. I wanted to bawl, to just let it all out. But I didn’t. I took a deep breath and swallowed. Jason’s work was just a minute away. My anxiety heightened again as I realized that in just a moment I was about to meet new people. As soon as we got inside the kitchen I stood in the freezer for a minute to calm down. It helped. I was glad to be there, relieved. The lingering feelings have continued to haunt me. The feeling of being inadequate and stupid. My self esteem is far from boosted. I’m embarrassed. I feel like a child. Once upon a time I would go anywhere and do anything. Slowly, over time, my anxieties have built. My confidence has lowered more and more. The belief that I can do whatever I want is hard to dredge up. I was told that I was brave for even making this attempt. I have been told a few “should haves” also. I have been comforted by hearing Bill say that this was my first time and it is natural for me to feel this way and common for people to go through stuff like that. He also said that he lives downtown and it’s not easy. Also that the heat wave has made people really grouchy. Yeah. I appreciate that. Doesn’t make it better, but it was good to hear.

I think this may have added to my depression a bit. I’ve been dealing a lot with my self worth recently in group. I’ve been working with Libbi on my core beliefs. Not sure if my core belief that I’m worthless and inadequate has been confirmed with this experience or if this experience feels so bad because of my core beliefs.

 Maybe it’s just another one of those loops on the roller coaster.