It has been over a year since I last posted an entry.
I won't get into how life has changed, just know that it has.
Mostly, this is a post about depression and how it can affect even the best of intentions.
I started this blog on February 1, 2013. I had a lot to say and I wanted to say it on the off chance that people might like to listen. I had the best of intentions to do good at this blogging thing; to post frequently and engage people. To challenge people's mindsets, encourage women and parents, and, most importantly, to expand my world outside of motherhood and marriage. I love my family, I love my husband, and I love this SAHM gig. But I also want my boys to see me as more than the Keeper of the Snacks and the person who fills up sippies and changes poopy diapers. I would like them to see me as a whole person, so that they aren't surprised by it when they get older and they no longer require my services. I saw this blog as an opportunity for me to become better-rounded and as an opportunity to engage my whole self: the story teller, the comedian, the geek, the author, the philosopher, the feminist, and the proponent of all things kind.
There is one side of myself, however, that I don't really like to talk about. And that side of myself is becoming increasingly harder to ignore. So, I'm coming clean: I suffer with depression.
I was diagnosed with depression as a teenager and I was put on an antidepressant. It had some seriously devastating side effects so I went off of them, against the advice of my doctor. The side effects of going cold turkey were pretty awful. I lost friendships, particularly my best friend, and it wasn't helped by my typical, petulant teenage attitude. She didn't understand, I couldn't explain, and we hurt each other. I learned and I grew from the experience. My empathy and fierce dedication to kindness was born from our turbulent and messy break-up. I didn't go back on antidepressants and I have lived on an emotional roller coaster pretty much ever since.
My life is dedicated to the ebb and flow of this depression. I have times where I am very happy; joy is bubbling at the surface and I see beauty in everything, even in the mirror. I am in love with life and I have ideas and plans to make things better. To be a better mother and wife; to begin to get rid of this baby weight; to keep a clean house; to fill the walls with pictures, and artwork; to read and knit EVERYTHING. And then, I plummet and I struggle to get out of bed. Housework doesn't get done and we end up going through a drive thru more often than I care to admit. The kids keep me on task. They are the reason I get out of bed, the reason that I eat and drink, the reason that I leave the house on those days. On those days, I know that I need help but the thought of picking up the phone to make an appointment with the doctor is physically exhausting. It just makes me feel bone tired. So, I didn't. And then my blue days would be over and I would feel exhilarated and I would promise myself that the next time, I wouldn't succumb. That I would not give in to those feelings.
But it's gotten worse. Before, these periods would last a few days; we called it my "funk." It was just a funk and I would shake it off in a day or two, maybe three, and life would get back to normal. But lately, normal has shifted. It's no longer a funk because it's most of the time. I only have a few days of happy before I'm back in the dumps. I can't live like that. My sons shouldn't have to live like that and neither should my husband. So, I took the first step to healing: I called my doctor.
We discussed my options and we've started a treatment: prescription strength vitamins and a walking regimen, which I have not started yet. Antidepressants may be in my future but I want to make sure my youngest son, Opie, is safe while he continues to breastfeed. I am still in love with my life. I wouldn't trade my kids, or being a stay-at-home mommy, for anything. My husband and I celebrated ten years of marriage this year and I am so excited about where the next ten years take us. I am still good. I just want to be better.
I also have hopes that I will find it in me to start blogging again. I still have a lot to say. On the off chance that someone might like to listen.
