I wrote this post yesterday afternoon while feeling quite blue. Last night, I put everyone to bed and went to the grocery store. I have not gone in over two weeks, relying on the pantry overflow and my husband for the necessities. I strolled down every aisle, looked at every deal, and lost myself in the money saving game of shopping. I loved it.
I got home last night full of energy, ready to tackle all things Lori and that feeling still lasts today.
It just goes to show you what a few hours alone, no matter what you are doing, can recharge a battery!
But I thought I would post this anyway – because I know it will come back and I know I am not the only one. Please enjoy and share with your friends!
We all have our bad days. I know this. Days when I want to crawl back under the covers and not come out until a nanny has been hired, the chef has cooked me some comfort food, and my kids have suddenly learned that repeating themselves 6000 times will not get them different results.
And then there are the bad weeks that can stretch into months. When I can’t seem to get my feet under me or my head wrapped around the reality of the days. When I want to sit and stare and not be bothered.
I suppose that is where I am now. Depressed. Not clinically depressed, I don’t think, and since I have struggled with the disease since I was a young teenager, I am pretty aware of the signs. I am just in a deep funk. One I can not seem to dig myself out of.
There are various reasons. I told my husband that I feel like I just “suck” at everything. He, of course, being a wonderful – self preserving – kind of guy, said he could think of nothing I was bad at. I smiled, patted his back like an unaware young child, and went back to my self deprecating rant.
When I was younger and hit one of these funks, I just changed things. I went on a trip, or self medicated with night after night at a favorite bar, or called all of my friends and threw a huge party for no reason.
I can’t do that anymore. I have too many young kids, no money for excursions of any kind, friends who are busy with their own lives and also have an impossible time picking up and heading out to rejuvenation lane. So this time, the depression seems more…. depressing.
I’ve tried to upgrade my mood internally. I’ve smiled at my children’s antics, spent hours on the floor engulfing myself in their laughter, and calling and talking to dear friends for hours. But it seems harder to get out of it now. I don’t know why, but it does.
As an added bonus to the internal struggles, I have three daughters that are a little too aware not to notice Mommy’s mood change. They know more than we give them credit for, I think. I know that Katie’s anger and frustration is a result of my lack of energy. I know Sarah’s constant whining is a sign that she is feeling off kilter because her Mom is too. And Megan, even at 19 months, seems more clingy and almost fearful now. Like her security blanket got caught in the dryer and she is terrified we’ll never get it out.
My knowledge of their reactions to my sudden tears, lack of direction, fading energy, and short patience level is devastating in itself. I’ve never really had anyone that truly counts on me witness my bouts.
And so with the depression comes guilt. Guilt because I know I am not the same mother that they are accustomed to. The quick to smile, eager to play, happy go lucky mom of times past. The one who wants to venture out with them in exploration, instead of just putting them outside to come up with games on their own. The kind of mom who sat down and colored with them, created with them, and read endlessly to them.
The kind of mother they deserve.
Every day. No matter what.
Depression affects more than me now. It affects my children, my parenting, my marriage, and my friendships. And I can not wait until I can snap out of it. So that I can return to my normal self.
Until then, I have a duty to fake it. Or I could do permanent damage to those I love.
And then I’d really have something to be depressed about!