I've had depression my entire life. I've done therapy for YEARS without getting better. I'm still over anxious, still sure everyone is looking at me and judging me. Everything said is a criticism. But mostly and most difficult to deal with is the sadness..no not sadness, hopelessness. Depression is, for me at least, a vast sea of hopelessness.
Its nothing I can swim through, climb out of. It's all encompassing and drowns me. I'll pull myself out of bed but doing anything beyond the basics is more than I can do. I feed my children but not myself, bathe them but not me. I meet their needs but when I'm down, we'll all watch tv for days. No park, no crafts, play together for a while. Not the mommy I want to be.
So yesterday I started my Prozac again. It the only thing thats ever made me feel more like I imagine normal feels like. No snapping, no yelling, no wallowing in my own filth, no overwhelming fear over everything. Better. Everyone notices. Lori even asked me to go back on my 'more patience pills'.
I had been doing ok without them I thought, but a recent loss of a baby pushed me out on a precarious limb where I didn't feel secure at all. I'm better everyday but this will help.
When I'm in a more stable mood I think of things like working. About having a preschool/child care center in my home. How much I'd love to have all those children around, teaching them how to count and funny songs. I'd love to do that, but I never will. Because I know one day I'll feel better and stop my pills. And I'll snap and yell and fear and become overwhelmed and those children will become acquainted with Disney. It isn't fair to my children so I won't inflict it on anyone elses. Yet I daydream. I mentioned my thoughts of childcare to Edwin. He looked at me like I'd lost my mind, perhaps sprouted two heads.
He said some days he thinks I'm going to kill the kids I have. So, I dream and know I can't. That's life. Maybe one day I'll find a passion I can follow.