Life is short. And unfair.

Still, if there’s one thing the past few months have taught me, it’s to live your life to the fullest, now.

One of the saddest phrases I know is “We’d always planned to do that but now he (or she) is gone.”

My husband is gone, our dreams of travel to Australia, to Europe, an Alaskan cruise, all gone with him. I can and will travel on alone, with my friends and family as company, but it’s not…. quite…. the same.

And now I see so much pain and tragedy around me. My father-in-law is bravely fighting cancer, although he’s come through a couple of major surgeries with flying colors. One good friend just found out her husband may have aggressive and potentially untreatable cancer. Another good friend’s sister has disappeared, possibly into a world of drugs and fear. A third good friend recently survived a terrible car accident that could have killed him.

Whatever your dream is, whatever your idyllic future is, make it happen, damn it! No one is guaranteed tomorrow and a life deferred is a life of disappointment.

What are your dreams? Travel? Reconnecting with family? Learning an art or craft? Working in a different field? Rebuilding your faith? Improving your health and fitness? Being involved in things that matter, like service, social justice & politics?

Make them come true, now. Money doesn’t matter. Security is highly overrated. As my longtime friend Michelle once challenged me, “What would you do if you could remove all fear from your thinking? What would you choose, where would you go?” Commit yourself to your dreams and make them happen, with those you love supporting you, while you can.

While people pleasing is a losing game, the people in your life do matter. Let those you love know it, every day. The morning that I lost Bryan, like every morning of our lives, we hugged, kissed and told each other we loved each other. This has saved my sanity in the days and months since. Be affectionate, be demonstrative, take the risk of being unselfish and give the gift of your blessing and support.

Life is short and infinitely precious. Give thanks for it, and live each day fully, as if it might be your last.

Happy 17th birthday Zach! One more year until you’re mostly legal – and I’m very, very proud of you!

These are taken from Zach’s birthday party – which included assorted gaming pursuits, his gaming computer hooked up to our 52″ plasma screen tv and a brief, DM-less stab at D&D. It’s not over, although his girlfriend has gone home. I’m going to be wearing sound canceling headphones to bed tonight because my room is right over the family room.

Zombie teens.

Zach is excited about his cake. And the only ten candles I could find in the house.

The pictures were taken with my new little ultracompact Canon SD890 IS – I wanted to downsize from my mid-size Kodak in case I get to travel this summer.

I don’t post often on the subject of depression because it’s so very personal and has the potential for inviting judgment by others. Still, I think it’s important to share my story – the victories and struggles – because I’m far from alone out there.

My previous post on the subject is here, written in January of 2008, and quite a bit has changed in my life since then.

My mood disorder tends to be cyclical – with cycles that are months and even years long. It’s exacerbated by stress, emotional discord, sleep issues and to some degree, winter gloom.

Late last fall, I slid back into a pretty severe depression, in spite of my maximum dosage of the antidepressant I was on. I withdrew, stopped writing or reaching out to friends, and basically woke up every morning feeling like life was not worth getting out of bed for.

(I don’t do suicidal depression – one of my personality traits is hyper-responsibility and in my opinion, suicide is one of the most irresponsible, selfish and damaging things a person can choose.)

My depression is also accompanied by a degree of OCD/anxiety, although the mood disorder is primary. The OCD takes the form of compulsive computer screen & desk arrangement, closet cleaning, counting round numbers for swimming & walking, incredible hamster-wheel insomnia, nail/hangnail biting, etc. It’s mostly manageable but sometimes I need to consciously disrupt the cycles and rituals.

In January I finally went to see my doctor. She changed my medication from one that I’d been on for years to a new one: Lexapro. She also recommended that I go see a counselor for support.

The Lexapro was a very difficult transition. I’d never really had any side effects on my previous medication, but the new med made me jittery, insomniac, over-energetic — although not manic. It did, however, help the mood problem a lot. It was my understanding that the side effects should dissipate over a few weeks so I stuck with it. They mostly have, although I’m still perennially slightly jittery and think perhaps some of my major insomnia and weight loss (yeah!) might be related to it.

I picked a counselor based upon her recommended list and my insurance provider’s approved list. Serendipitously, she was a good match. Her orientation is both behavioral and cognitive, and she has both a liberal Christian and a Buddhist orientation. A couple of her very first goals with me were getting me back into a regular meditation practice, and teaching me to consciously accept what is without drama and catastrophizing.

Thank goodness my new medication had kicked in, and I had spent a few sessions with the counselor, when I lost Bryan. The loss of a spouse and life’s partner is possibly one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to bear – although I’d place it neck and neck with the challenges of dealing with a seriously mentally ill family member I was not able to help effectively.

My grief response was atypical, if there is such a thing as typical. I’m wired to manage practical tasks, to focus on the details, and so that was my primary orientation. Rather than dissolving into devastation and depression, the moments of sadness and grief have instead triggered relatively short-term, if severe, mood crashes as well as greater levels of OCD and anxiety.

My friend Michelle eloquently described a mood crash as “I felt a despair fall over me, as if a piece of the Snow Queen’s mirror had fallen into my eyes…” and that is very appropriate for the suddenness and intensity of how they impact me, lately.

Thank goodness they don’t last. I can generally interrupt them with a nap, a hard exercise session, time with a friend, a good book or sometimes even eating something healthy to raise my blood sugar.

So, how am I doing now, seven or eight months after the latest swing into darkness? Mostly ok. Manageably ok. Dare I say it – even high-functioning? I would not have believed that I could come through both a depressive swing and a major life tragedy without ending up a gibbering catatonic wreck, but thanks to the family and friends that have generously, creatively and lovingly supported me, things look cautiously hopeful.

Thank you.

Names are intertwined with identity. In my family, we had four Jerrys, including my dad, and two Cheris. I then intelligently married a man named Jerry. Unsurprisingly my children are Ben and Zach – no “erry” and no rhyming.

My dad, who I admired greatly, was the only male of his generation and he had two daughters; the Sisco name could have ended with him. My sister retained her maiden name at marriage, though.

I had always wanted to do the same, but both my first husband and Bryan were uncomfortable with the idea. It wasn’t important enough to me to hurt my spouse over, so I acquiesced and took my husband’s name.

For those of you who understand my fairly feminist sentiments, that may be a surprise. In some sense taking a spouse’s name is an intrinsic subsumption of a woman’s identity in her husband’s. There’s still a lot of latitude for growth and self-awareness within that, but the journey begins as a subset of another.

Jeri Merrell is a name I wore proudly in spite of my preference for keeping my own name. My husband was an amazing man, a leader in his industry, devoted to his family, a caring friend. I adored him and would never consciously have hurt him.

Still, my core self is “Jeri Sisco”, and that self-concept has been formed over 44 years of life. She’s me, at my most passionate, creative, focused, bright, caring and centered. (She’s also me at my most idiotic, blind and impetuous, but we won’t go there.)

After careful thought, and in Bryan’s much-mourned absence, I have decided to change my name back to my maiden name. It’s not a repudiation of our marriage, nor a denial of the respect and gratitude I have for him – it’s just returning back to who I am now that I must forge on alone.

So, I went to court this morning and went through the formal name change. Then I began the bureaucratic procedures to propagate that throughout my life.

As a few of my texting friends may know, I had a major case of anxious jitters waiting outside of the courtroom this morning. Part of it was the unfamiliar environment – I’ve never been to court before! And part of it was the permanence of the change and all it means – and doesn’t mean – to me.

Many thanks to Janiece, Tania, Michelle and Joe for diverting me so entertainingly. (And to the rest of you who would have also happily pitched in – but I wouldn’t have been able to keep up!) And no, Michelle, I didn’t meow in the courtroom. LOL

It’s a new chapter. A new name, a true name. And a new future – a different one – not with the partner I’d planned, but in the excellent company of my amazing, cherished family and friends just the same.

Bonus points to the reader who catches the title reference!