Overreaction

This week has been a difficult week for me emotionally, mentally and physically.  I have been feeling really sad and tired.  (Yes, another word for that would be depressed).  I have struggled with writing any of this down because I hate admitting that I am depressed.  Using my blog as a journal is kind of tricky, too.  I wouldn't have a problem writing about my emotions in a private journal, but one that is published for anyone to read is kind of difficult because I get a bit embarrassed.  Seriously, I wouldn't care if people I don't know and will never know in real life know how I am feeling, but I hate letting my family and friends in on it.  It is backwards and messed up, I know, but it is how I roll. 

I am sitting here debating if I will even publish this post.  I don't want to be treated differently because I am feeling depressed.  I have an awesome mask that I can wear to disguise the depression, but I hate using it.  My doctor told me to be glad that I have the mask, because it makes life easier, as it is difficult to be with someone who can't at least act happy sometimes. 

Last Saturday (the 4th) I realized that I never did take the boys to the Oquirrh outdoor pool in Kearns.  It is a fun pool and I told them that we would go this summer.  That weekend was the last weekend it would be open for the summer, so I thought that we should get ready and go.  I wasn't feeling really good, but I was feeling really guilty about not taking them (although they honestly didn't care too much because they hadn't said a word about it).  Daniel had to get some work done, but he said that he would stay here with Jane.  I went to tell the boys that we were going to go swimming.  They were really excited!  Mark asked if Daniel was coming and I told him no.  Mark got kind of sad and said "Aaawwwwwwwww" (I have no idea how to spell what he said, but it was whiny).  I snapped.  I got really upset.  I took what he said personally, as though he was saying that he didn't want me to come, but wanted his dad to come instead.  I was so hurt.  I know (and knew when it happened) that it wasn't what he meant, but it hurt me.  I told him that if I wasn't fun enough to go with, that he could find someone else to take him.  I wasn't going anymore.

I was hurt.  I knew that I overreacted, but I couldn't calm down.  I had myself a grand ol' pity party.  I realized that I really am not a lot of fun to do things with because I get tired so damn easily.  Most activities I do with the kids I really do act like the chauffeur rather than someone who is in the group.  Most times just planning the activity, getting the van packed with the essentials (water, sunscreen, snacks, etc) and getting us to the activity is enough for me.  Throw packing for a newborn into the equation and I am exhausted just thinking of going places.  (I wanted to go and visit my brother in Idaho while the boys were off track, but I just panic thinking of packing things for Jane and then figuring out things for me to eat.  It is easier to just stay home.)  Right now I am really tired, I just want to stay in bed all day.  I guess that it is fortunate that I can't stay in bed, but man, I really hate getting up and taking care of things. 

Emotionally I was on a downward spiral and I couldn't stop it.  I went downstairs in the utility/storage room and cried.  Things got ugly in my brain.  I hated myself.  I hated everything about me.  I hated that I couldn't be who I wanted to be.  I hated having to eat differently than everyone around me.  I felt so alone.  I realized that I am just not very close to anyone but Daniel.  He knows my struggles.  He has been super busy with work this past week, so I have tried really hard to leave him alone, even though I feel like I have needed him more than usual. 

My depression isn't super bad.  Believe me, I know that it can go a lot deeper and get a lot uglier than it is right now.  I just hate it, though.  I thought that I was doing okay.  I thought about my postpartum depression with Paul and Seth and I discovered that it got pretty bad around 3 months after they were born.  Jane is 3 months old, so it fits the pattern.  It sucks.  I really want to be excited that I have a baby girl, but right now I just curse myself for having another kid.  This has nothing to do with Jane, I am just upset with myself for being depressed. 

Depression is an interesting topic.  Society is difficult to deal with, at least the LDS society.  We are told that depression is nothing to be ashamed of, that it is just something that we need to deal with as though it were diabetes or cancer.  But, the church doesn't really treat it that way.  I have had a bishop tell me that depression is just the lack of the spirit.  Yep, just pray and read scriptures more and the spirit will come back to you.  The church magazine, the Ensign, has had stories about people with depression (bipolar, 'regular' and postpartum) , but they changed the names of the people in the story, or publish the story with "Anonymous" as the author as though it is too shameful to publish their real names.  Depression isn't a sin, so what are we hiding from?  It really bothers me and it makes it difficult for me to feel as though I am truly understood by people who haven't experienced depression because they rely on the media to relay depression to them and the media does a crap job of helping it to be understood. 


When Daniel and I were dating it took a lot of courage to tell him that I deal with depression.  He didn't care, but he also didn't understand it.  He understands depression a lot better now.  He still feels helpless at times.  But then again, so do I.   I am so grateful to Daniel for putting up with me and helping me when I need the help.  Having him work from home has been a gigantic blessing for our family.  When I have times when I can't stand to be around me, he wants to be around me (and not just for sex!).

I left my computer to take care of Jane and Paul sat down and read what I had written (the 'sex' part wasn't there yet!)  I asked him what he thought and he said, "It was okay, except for that one bad word".  When I get depressed I tend to swear a lot.  Damn and hell are my favorites.  I have to be really upset to use anything more than that, though.

I feel badly that my family has to deal with depression because of me.  I don't mind my kids knowing about my depression, because it is something that they have to live with.  They have a mom that deals with depression.  I wish that I could change it, but right now that is our reality.  I am terrified that my children might get depressed.  I want them to be able to talk about it.  I have struggled with talking about depression for a long time.  I never had someone I felt comfortable talking with.  I am barely able to communicate this with Daniel. 

I sat down with the boys and talked about why I have been feeling sad and snarky.  I told them what they can do to help me, and that they are not responsible for me feeling sad.  I asked them to appreciate me for what I can do for them, such as driving them to the park or taking them to a movie. 

I read a study once that said that children who have parents with mental and/or emotional disabilities (depression was included) tend to be more empathetic than children who have, um, 'normal' parents.  So I'm doing this to build character and empathy in my children.  Yah, it still sucks.

I know that in time I will feel better.  I have lifted myself out of the muck before and I'll do it again.