What do I do when I have small children that depend on me and I'm so depressed? By all accounts people tell me that I have every right to feel this way when I have what I have going on in my life. But my life is not about 'me' anymore. It's about these two angels that love me and need me to be strong. When my kindergartner comes up to me and snuggles on my lap and says, "Mom, I know you're feeling bad. It's okay to feel bad sometimes. But I'll help you to feel better," I know that no matter how hard I've been trying to keep the pain out of my expressions and step, I've failed. And that somehow makes me feel even worse. These days I feel like I've failed everyone. And that I'll never be good enough. Believe me, one half of my brain tells me that these feelings are ridiculous and the standards I set for myself are too high. But the other side, the depressed me, seems to swallow up the rationale.
A lot of times, I can't sleep at night. I toss and turn and end up downstairs on the couch. Other times, I spend the whole night waking from nightmares and symbolically charged dreams. It's no wonder, then, that I'm always tired and can barely keep my eyes open by the time noon time comes around. This is a problem because although my daughter still naps (I wonder if she really still needs the nap, or if it's me that needs it), my son does not. So while I'm napping on the couch, video games are babysitting my son. Which is just another one of the many, many things I said I would never succumb to as a parent. Shame on me for being so selfish. But I can't seem to stop needing that nap.
And, by the way, the drugs. Oh, I can't stand the fact that I'm currently weaning off of one antidepressant for another, and taking an anti-anxiety drug to help me sleep (although most of the time I don't allow myself the anti-anxiety med, because I can't stand the thought of it). I have a family member in the deepest darkest depths of drug addiction. I've cut myself off from my family because of it. Does it make me a hypocrite to be taking drugs myself?! Doesn't matter that my "drugs" were prescribed to me, whereas hers are gotten illegally... these are the things that I beat myself up over. I mean, what kind of lesson is that teaching my children?
A well-meaning person told me yesterday that she thinks my son is going to be hyper. And I can't stop obsessing over this. I'm fighting with myself over it. I just know it's my fault (It's just a stage, he's a boy, it's winter and he's stir crazy in the house). He plays too many video games (Well, yeah, he would play all day if I let him, but normally I only allow him an hour a day). He doesn't get enough exercise (he does - he takes Karate, goes to pre-school three days a week, will be starting swimming soon, and will be doing T-ball in the spring). I don't read/play/cuddle him enough (he gets so much more attention and love than most kids his age, I'm sure). He has too much sugar in his diet (I guess could do better in this regard, I guess, but really, who couldn't do better with a finicky five year old?).
Anyway, to end this long, rambling post that probably doesn't make sense to most rational people (but I never said I was rational), I'm writing all this crap down to get it out of my head. I'm literally visualizing myself bundling up all the thoughts floating around, sweeping them up, and pushing them out into this journal. And now I have a nice, clean, blank space in there and I can move on. Theoretically anyway.
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