Tag Archives: depression

I would do anything for love, but I just won’t do that

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I feel like I am trapped in a Meatloaf song. I want to do things to be pleasing. I want to show my love. But I don’t want to do that. What is that? I don’t know. What do I want? I don’t know. I want to not feel how I feel right now.

I keep thinking I didn’t have kids because I wanted a convenient life. If I insist on my kids staying in school it means I am ok with their classmates hitting them, spitting on them, elbowing them, telling them that they are fucking morons–shits–stupid–pathetic. It means I am ok with little girls telling my little girls that when they gain weight in preparation for puberty they should really go on a diet. It means I am ok with the authorities having a bigger problem with my children standing up to bullies than with the bullying behavior. It means I believe that my children should have to put up with low level harassment a lot of the time because it doesn’t rise to the level that a teacher considers worth paying attention to so stop complaining.

“It is preparation for the real world.” Bitch, if someone did that to me in the real motherfucking world I would either punch them or press charges. I wouldn’t shut up, put my head down, and take it.

You aren’t preparing them for a healthy adult life. You are preparing them to be victims and you feel quite sanctimonious about how it needs to happen.

I’m not yanking them out immediately. I am going to start emailing the fucking head every day with a report of what bullshit happens. Then when I deregister the kids I will have a paper trail of allllllllll the shit the school doesn’t think is important enough to deal with.

If I had a full time job and I had to work I would tell my kids to start punching people. But I don’t and I don’t and I don’t really want my children to have to toughen up in that manner. I have not put this much time and effort into helping them verbalize problems instead of hitting to give it up now. Sure, they are annoying to authority figures in a school who don’t want to hear it. But fuck the fucking school authorities. Their priorities are shit.

And really, there are a lot of things I miss. I miss not wasting so many hours on “Get up. Do your chores. Eat faster. Get ready to go. Pack your bag. Go. Hurry up and unpack. Do your chores. Eat faster. Go to bed because we have to wake up early and do this all again.”

We can get a lot done home schooling. But we do it at odd hours and when we feel like it. Is it a lot of stress? Absofuckinglutely. I feel less like I need to ride the kids super hard though. They are doing more than fine compared to their peers (Except for hand writing and fuck hand writing. Ok, we will work on it…. but seriously. Fuck hand writing.) and that was what kept me up at night worrying. Yeah, I hate having to push them through work.

But I love having hours a day to read together. I love having time to sit around and draw together. I love watching the neat projects they build with all of the time they have. I love knowing that they get to play with dolls and be imaginative when kids their age in school have already given it up because they are trying so hard to be “big”.

I am making contact with the home education community. I’m finding kids their age who are into Minecraft and Scratch and art and reading. Do you know what they aren’t finding at school? Kids who play Minecraft or who use Scratch or kids who are as obsessed with art and reading as they are. At school kids call them names because they don’t play Fortnight. At school kids mock them for not having an expensive brand new phone. At school the kids make fun of them for not being on social media.

Fuck school.

A mother told me the other day that she is getting her 7 year old an iPhone 6 for Christmas because the kid is getting mocked at school for not having one. What the absolute fuck? She said that she doesn’t want to waste money on toys because her daughter is only interested in perfecting her selfies anyway. Uhhh my 9 year old is getting a doll house and the thing will be played with constantly.

Yeah. Different strokes.

We are working on some fairly big changes in our marriage. It’s complicated. I don’t want to bitch about it here. I just want to write down for myself that this is when the contract ended.

I don’t know how to properly advocate for myself without throwing tantrums. I don’t know how to feel like I am being treated how I want to be treated. I don’t fucking know how I want to be treated.

I keep thinking about that doctor who told me that I just need to focus on keeping the bus on the road. (It’s a long metaphor.) He said Noah knew what he was getting into with marrying me because I was honest about my trauma history so he doesn’t get to bitch about it being hard. I don’t agree. I think Noah gets to bitch.

But sometimes keeping the bus on the road is hard even when I don’t have a good reason to point at. Sometimes just being me is hard. I feel like a whiner. I feel annoying and high maintenance and a whole lot of other rude descriptors. I definitely definitely definitely don’t think I am worth the effort.

But I throw tantrums if the effort isn’t put in because I am a fucking bitch. Apparently I have an incredibly high sense of what I deserve.

I think I am depressed. Noah thinks he is depressed. We aren’t the sorts of depressives who stop working. We put our heads down and plough on feeling little to no joy in anything. I don’t think it is SAD. I think we have been working so hard for so long without resting that our bodies are collapsing. Our spirits are collapsing.

Both of us feel like the other isn’t doing very much for us even as we can rattle off the ridiculously long chore list that we know our partner is doing… it just… feels inadequate. We are productive, just not content or happy or satisfied. We keep waiting for a long enough break to breathe.

I now have definite confirmation that our stuff is in the UK. It’s going to sit in a warehouse till December 30th when a company will go pick it up and a few days after that they will call me to arrange delivery. Our stuff will be in transit for 19 or so weeks. The estimate was 4-12 weeks. I feel glad that I can stop worrying that our stuff is lost. That’s been really bothering me.

I want my socks. And my long johns. And my books. And and and and and. I WANT THE GOD DAMN BIKE TRAILER.

This is my third night in a row of not really sleeping until absurdly late. It’s almost 1. This isn’t helping my mental health. Tomorrow I need to take a sleeping pill.

Fork.

On this whole PPD thing

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It’s going. I’m not seeking out a doctor at this point in time. A doctor would say, “Here are meds” thing is… there are only two meds that are particularly safe for breastfeeding. One of them I’ve had previous gnarly bad reactions to and the other is one my mother had gnarly bad reactions to (I know that I could have a different reaction but given that I’ve had horrible horrible side effects from every med I’ve ever tried… I’m not feeling up for that).

I have a long, long, long history of depression. I deal with it. I have better days and worse days in dealing with it. It’s going. A friend tactfully asked me about how much sunlight I was getting (very very tactfully phrased–she gets a medal). For the past several days I’ve been making a serious effort to get outside in the sun and walk for hours. It’s helping. It’s making it easier to do the things I have to do.

I’m asking Noah for more focused time together (we played Bonanza tonight–it’s very different with only two players). I’m seeing friends. Dad is in town right now and he’s staying here tonight (though he’s out at a play party right now) and tomorrow.

I’m trying to stop the escalation of anger. This is the hardest part for me right now. If I can stop the escalation of anger then I avoid the guilt/shame/sad/crying that comes from beating myself up for being angry. I’m far from perfect… but I’m trying.

I am being more self-indulgent than usual and I’m struggling to be ok with that. I uhhh think Shanna is going to have a slightly more extravagant Christmas than she should because if something looks like fun to me I’m feeling more inclined to get it. (I’m not going hog wild or anything. I hardly think that a set of fridge magnet letters is over the top but yeah there will be a couple of extra presents in that range…)

Mostly as I feel kind of dead I am searching for any kindness inside me. I’m trying to direct it at anyone… but mostly myself.

[Oh–and definitely not hyperthyroidism. Weight has plateaued. At least that’s one fewer thing to think about going wrong with my body.]

Not so good.

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Symptoms:
* Agitation, restlessness, and irritability [check]
* Dramatic change in appetite, often with weight gain or loss [check]
* Extreme difficulty concentrating (or thinking) [check]
* Fatigue and lack of energy [check]
* Feelings of hopelessness and helplessness [check]
* Feelings of worthlessness, self-hate, and inappropriate guilt [check]
* Inactivity and withdrawal from usual activities, a loss of interest or pleasure in activities that were once enjoyed (such as sex) [check]
* Thoughts of death or suicide [I think getting that close to dying cured me of this one, but I do really want to cut.]
* Trouble sleeping or excessive sleeping [check]
* Feeling socially isolated, or unconnected [check]
* Lack of pleasure in all or most activities [check]
* Loss of energy experienced [check]
* Negative feelings toward the baby [luckily the worst of this is, “Just shut the fuck up already” when she doesn’t want to settle down]

I really wish I had a relationship with a doctor. I know intellectually that postpartum depression isn’t something to ignore or take lightly but right this minute finding a care provider is such an enormous hurdle that I don’t know what I am going to do. 🙁 I understand that postpartum depression is often/usually a bigger deal than even just standard depression–I’m not sure i understand why. Somehow I usually muddle through because I have it so strongly ingrained that it doesn’t matter how I *feel* there are still things I have to *do*.

Hot cereal and compassion

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Today I decided that I should probably not put my normal 2-3 tablespoons of refined white sugar on my cream of wheat. If I want my kid to eat less sugar I need to lead the charge. (In my defense: I use less sugar than my mother.) So I chopped up a couple of fresh strawberries and used two teaspoons of strawberry preserves. It was alright but not terribly sweet so I added a teaspoon of sugar. It was good enough for me. My hope is that with practice I won’t need the added sugar after a while. 🙂

As for compassion: I’m having a hard time finding compassion for a mama of my acquaintance and I don’t feel good about my lack of compassion. Her son is six weeks older than Shanna and she hit postpartum depression about a month ago. I’ve talked to her about depression in general, coping skills and vitamins/supplements that tend to help and that’s all fine. I’m having a hard time because she is on disability leave from her job and she is not spending any time with her son. She continues to send him off to his grandparents every day (they are in their late 70’s) and she stays home by herself. I have a long history of depression but I always manage to do the things that have to be done. I have never personally been so depressed that I neglected basic care for another person. On one hand, she is making sure her son is well cared for and that’s good. On the other hand: she’s not taking care of her son, her husband and his parents are. I feel guilty about judging her because I haven’t walked in her shoes and it isn’t my place. On the other hand it’s hard for me to supply the compassion she deserves when she comes to my house crying.

I feel conflicted. I almost want to tell her that being depressed in no excuse to pawn off care of her son. I wouldn’t do it no matter how depressed I was. But that’s me. I have no idea what it is like to live in someone else’s head so I shouldn’t be such a snot.

URGH!

{my shit} Note about filter, unpretty, unworthy, hating myself

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Uhm, a note about this filter. I’ve taken people off of it because I am going through one of those major control freak periods where unsolicited comments I don’t like are really really bothering me. So I’ve cut back most of the people who make comments I don’t want to hear. Maybe that is petty, but this is my bloody journal and if I don’t get to write what I want here without being responded to in ways I don’t like I should just forget the whole thing. I label this filter pretty religiously so you know in advance that it’s the heavier shit.

Most of the time I don’t say too much about people commenting on stuff. I ignore stuff I don’t want to respond to or I take someone off a filter and that’s about the end of it. On this filter I’m going to ask everyone to think before you comment. I’m not saying that anyone has to sycophantically agree with me or suck up, just think pretty hard before you comment. If your comment is tangential or not really about what is being brought up, please don’t comment. This filter is where I write about a lot of the stuff that is the hardest for me. I let people read it because many people have expressed that they really want to see what is happening for me as I work through this stuff. But as people stop feeling safe for me to process in front of they are simply removed. It isn’t up for discussion or negotiation. If you feel like you no longer want to be on this filter, please let me know. I am happy to take you off.

Continue reading →

Buttons, buttons, who can press my buttons?

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Ok, so the icon looks like this will be sexy. It won’t be. I just like the blindfold image.

Processing. I am so sick of processing I could scream. I feel like I am drowning in all the shit from my life. I’m not sure if writing about it is helping or hurting, but I know I need to do it. Things have blown up with my mother again. I think that it may be a long time before I hear from her again. She is coming up in June for my nephew’s high school graduation (which I wasn’t told about) and she said she wants to see my house. I’m not sure that is a good idea. I don’t think I want her to see where I live. I don’t think I want to have pictures in my head of her in my space. I’m so weird about “energy”. Sorry mom–I need to tell.

Noah got home last night. I’m not handling talking about his trip very well. There are things about the trip that upset me just because they upset me and there are things about the trip that upset me because they are shadows of the past. I am not really reacting to now and this problem, I am reacting to years of shit with my family. I am not now nor will I ever be part of Noah’s family, just like I have never really been part of my mother’s extended family or my father’s extended family, or really even my nuclear family. I am too much or too bad or too intense or too wrong or… too something. I feel so broken and defective, like there is nothing in me that is worthwhile. I don’t really believe that it is true, but I’m terrified that it is.

I’ve had problems with Stephen’s family and Tom’s family and Puppy’s family so I feel like the problems with Noah’s family really are my fault. Ok, so maybe the problems are all my fault because they seem to be following me around. They were different problems with each family though. I don’t know. Guilt doesn’t seem to need rationality.

And I keep wondering, given how toxic I seem to be–do I really have the right to bear a child? We are supposed to start trying so soon. I don’t feel like I really know if I should or not. Being broken sucks.

{my shit} Thinking about depression

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I have been told all of my life that I am a negative person. I can’t count how many people have told me that. At this point I realize that the label doesn’t actually fit. I am not negative; in fact, I am very positive. The reason I have so many mood swings is because I have always had very good reasons to be upset and sad but I try to bounce back. If I weren’t fighting to be positive I wouldn’t have nearly so many mood swings.

Everytown has brought up some really heavy duty processing for me. Last night Noah and I were talking and I told him more of the pieces. I told him things I have literally never said out loud in my life. I feel raw and exposed and scared. I also recognize that I am very deeply depressed and if I am honest with myself I have been since the scary scene in late December. If I really stop and look at what has been happening I can see big patterns: I’ve significantly changed my eating habits for the worse, I’ve all but stopped moving let alone exercising, and I am hiding from people unless I have no choice. This has resulted in me gaining weight and losing muscle so I am progressively more unhappy about how I feel in my body. Ok, so I can see this happening. Now I need to figure out what to do about it.

I have been trying so hard to not acknowledge that I am falling into this pit because it feels like I am letting Noah down. But I’m here. And I need to deal with it. For the record: we are still in that “don’t give me advice” week. I don’t need meds; I have crawled out of this before by myself and I will do it again. The first big step in dealing with a problem is admitting you have it. Ok, I’m depressed. Time to start working on fixing it.

{my shit}This is where I learned how to fuck people up.

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I came home from my third appointment for my tattoo to an email from my brother. The text from him reads:

Here is the will you asked for and thank you for helping me make a desicion I hav been struggling with for 8 years. I have not closed the door to any of you because I wanted my kids to know there family. It is no longer benificial to them because of the behaviors I have when you guys are around.

do not attempt to contact. Emails will be deleted unread, mail will be returned to sender unopened,phone calls will be hung up on and the door will not be answered.

He was responding to an email from my sister that read:

I keep thinking about it, and regardless of dad’s opinions of me or
anyone else, I feel it’s legally irresponsible to NOT peruse his will.

Please send me a copy.  A complete copy, if you will.  I need to see it
for myself.

Send it to my work address as follows: (deleted for her privacy)
I know you’d rather I not see it, but legally, I not only have the right
to see it, you are required by law to deliver a copy to all direct
heirs, of which I am most definitely one.  I cannot express how
upsetting it is to me that I had never even heard of the will until
recently.  I may not be dad’s biggest fan, but I knew him better than
anyone.  Including you.  I’m sorry, but that’s a fact.  Dad groomed you
to be his ace in the hole.  I won’t tell you what he said about you back
then – but it wasn’t any nicer than what he said about the rest of us.
He told me you would always back him, and he’d make sure of it.  You
would always be his supporter.  Tommy would never be believed.  For me,
he wanted me to be many things – not the least of which was his little
sex kitten.  He definitely tried to include me in his “mental
conditioning” of you guys.  Lol  And I often wonder why I’m so fucked
up?

Send me a copy of the will Jimmy.  Please.  I don’t care what’s in it; I
need to see it for myself.

Sissy

The will says:
(dated 4/27/98)
Last will and testament

Even though I am not guilty the viciousness of Vivian and Kristine is more than Tom can recover from. Tom and I have desided that the quality of life is not worth living.
If my life insurance can be collected I want half to go to my son James. The other half to Trudy Russell. (My step-mom)
The rest of Tom’s trust fund and everything else I have goes to my son James. It is my wishes that nothing goes to Vivian, Kristine, or Denise.

Words fail me. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t know where any of this came from or why it was directed at me. This is why I am so fucked up. I called my brother to ask him what the hell is going on. He told me that he is angry that his sons will never know their uncle or grandfather because I wasn’t given a computer. I hung up on him. This hatred of me is why I spent so many years wanting to and trying to kill myself. How can anyone hate me this much? And my brother will teach his children to hate me and blame me too.

{my shit} I want this week to end.

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It’s been a week since I managed to create a dramatic situation that could have been dealt with by a simple, “Hey, I would like some attention.” But no, I can’t do that. All I can do is feel bad and rejected when people don’t intuitively know that I am feeling lonely. All I can hear is, “You are too difficult to play with.” All I can do is feel like nothing is going to ever work out. I don’t know why that lovely euphoric coasting through my terrific relationships and life had to end, but it did with a bang. And now I feel like I am an awful person and I am treating both of my boys badly. I don’t really want to go anywhere so I’m seriously cramping Noah’s style. I just wish that I could just stop feeling this way. I want to be the happy-cheerful-‘on’ person that people like me to be, but I suck at it long term. I just can’t fill that role the way they want. And so I feel even worse about myself because I am dissappointing my partners.

I can tell this is going to be another bad day. At least I am going to just be alone for it. I hate inflicting my patheticness on people.

sad

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I had a weird/pissy exchange with a Pryankster tonight. It resulted in me being sulky for most of the rest of the night. Right before I left we talked a bit about what happened and how we can avoid both of us getting nasty again in the future and basically kissed and made up.

But I still feel all icki inside. I want to cry. I feel very lonely. I don’t know why it hit me so hard. What was so damn triggering about it? We were poking at each other and then he slapped my arm really hard. There is still a faint hand print almost four hours later. When I reacted in a displeased way he said I deserved it. He had started the poking though and I thought it was playing. I feel very rejected and punished for playing. I don’t like this feeling at all. And now I’m crying.

I’m really just not happy right now. And I get to go climb into my bed by myself. 🙁 I want snuggles and I can’t have them. Today, living alone sucks.

Fuck.

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I am getting so sick. My throat is about to give out on me altogether. I am tired of my stomach hurting. I have started eating even though it makes my stomach hurt so bad that sometimes I throw up. I am tired of having a fever and just generally feeling like shit run over by a semi. I want Puppy. I want him so much I physically ache with missing him. He wants to see me and I know I should say no but it is so hard. He is the only one I really want. I want to curl up in his lap and cry and cry and cry while he strokes my hair. And for some strange reason despite being totally depressed and feeling like shit, my libido kicked in about two days ago and the want of sex is starting to hurt. I am terribly spoiled.

I want him. I want him. I want him. I miss him. I love him. It’s been two weeks and I still feel like I just want to slash myself open. It is very hard to not cut. I know that right now I want to punish myself for not being enough for him. I know that is bad–don’t bother to tell me. I still feel that way. I want to not hurt anymore. I don’t know if seeing him will make it worse or better. God I hate this.

*grrrr*

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My doctor says that I am remarkably, almost freakishly healthy. Everything is as optimal as can possibly be hoped for. She thinks I should go see a gastro-intestinal specialist and I don’t have insurance for that until January, I think most of the way through January. Although Jamba Juice has helped remarkably and I think I may be able to get my calorie count to a reasonable level with a shot of that every day. Yes, I should buy the fruit and make it at home. I’m too apathetic and I just won’t get around to eating at all that way.

It is strange how my body and my emotions are just completely fucked over and upset and yet I’m doing really well at teaching. I am somehow managing to suck it up.

The only problem

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with a truncated friends-list? Less to read. Ya’ll aren’t posting much these days. 🙁 What do I do with my desperate need to procrastinate now?!

I’ve had half a dozen people tell me tonight not to call him. I’m sure that if I talked to anyone else they would do the same thing. I haven’t called him. I want to. I know it would be drama. It would also be a measure of comfort. Cause he wants to talk to me and I want to talk to him and we like each other and all that jazz. Then why did the son of a bitch dump me? And why is he sending me emails that include:
“We had some very good things going for us, the timing was lousy though. I am willing to bet if we had met 3-5 years down the line it would have been different. My greatest fear is running into you later and discovering that you have become the perfect person for me, happily married to someone else. I’m not telling you you have to wait for me ;-p I’m just saying we were doing pretty darn well with a couple of exceptions.”

That sounds so much like he doesn’t really want it to be over. I want to hate him. I wouldn’t be so sad then. 🙁

Life really sucks right now.

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My university advisor and vice-principal sat in on my seniors today and they ripped me a new one. They hate my lesson plans. They are not specific enough, and when I asked, “Well, do you want me to put a plot synopsis on the lesson plans or a copy of the overhead?” my advisor snapped off, “You are being sarcastic and I don’t appreciate it.” I almost burst into tears. What do you want from me? Seriously–I don’t understand what it is that you want me to do. For the rest of this semester I am going to have three page lesson plans with plot synopsis and explanations. I’m going to rip it all straight from sparksnotes because I am teaching five fucking preps you cunt rags.

I am so barely holding on by a thread. My stomach hurts so bad I want to throw up. I tried to eat and my stomach recoiled before I could even get the food in my mouth.

——————–

Break for Anna coming in. She is going to bat for me right now with the vice-principal. She thinks that I am totally be shafted and that a lot of the criticism of me is inappropriate and quite frankly, she is the only one who has the right to judge. She is the only person who has actually seen what I have done over any length of time. She is the one who has actually talked to me about my plans.

I still feel like shit. I’m going to see the doctor after the staff meeting. I just want to cry.

I miss Puppy. I got to talk to Noah for a while last night and I’m grateful. He helped me see a lot of points. I still want my Puppy though.