Growing, Not Dying

Welcome to my insights, ponderings, and experiences. Hopefully they will enrich you in some small way, or at least make you laugh.

Monday, February 06, 2006 Honest Day

Depression really sucks. The wost part is I usually don't realize I have sunk so low, back into the fog, for some time. I am just barely forcing myself out of it, kind of on that hazey edge. Although I feel guilty admitting what I have been doing, perhaps it will help someone in some way.

I have been so sleepy lately, and even caffine couldn't rouse me. My goal was to try to get the kids engaged in TV so I could sleep on the couch. I barely drag myself out of bed long enough to feed the kids some cold cereal and say good-bye to my husband and oldest in the morning. Once they are gone my goal is to get the other 3 hypnotized by the tv inside 30 minutes. Something inside tries to tell me this isn't healthy, but I don't really want to listen so I shut it out. I'd give them a snack, but then they would just wake me up wanting more. Check to make sure doors are closed, since the littlest gratefully still can't turn the knobs, then crash by 8:30. I had been awake maybe an hour fifteen by now.

While I lay on the couch I am not really asleep. I am mostly oblivious to the kids, responding, "later" to any requests. (For the most part they tip toe around. "Shh. Mommy's sleeping." Bless their little hearts.) My mind however is fully engaged in some other place. I never feel like I have ever rested. I am simply in another place now, living some other life. There is a whole other world going on I am part of, another story.

Two hours later some crisis of some sort calls for attention. At first I don't really know what's going on or where I am. The immediate is handled, whatever it takes to quiet these little creatures around me. As I move I talk in my head. "This is reality. These are your children. You are suppose to be taking care of them. This is real." Somehow I am not sure, but since everything that had been in my head is now fuzzy and fading, I accept this must be reality.

I can't think straight. I have no idea what day it is, nor do I really care. If the phone rings, I won't answer. Don't bother coming to the door. I won't answer. I don't want to interact with anyone. I feel guilty knowing Jim will wonder what I did all day so I less than half heartedly try to clean up some of the mess that materialized during my earlier "sleep."

11:30 ish it's time to feed the children. The good thing here is then the baby will go down for a nap. They are fed. Baby down. I really don't know what happens next. It's as if the clock just spontaneously jumps ahead 2 hours and it is almost time for The Boy to come home from school. This is not good news. He will want a snack. Then there is the fight to get his homework done. And through the midst his mere presence will inspire the others to fight and be whiny. I dread this time of day.

He comes. There is chaos. I am angry. Time for dinner. Must they eat again?!?! And Jim will expect food too. Ugh. I wander out to the freezer hoping for a quick fix. I wander back into the fridge, then rummage the pantry hoping something will spontaneous present itself. This usually ends one of 3 ways: pb&j, leftovers, or ordering in.

Dinner. Bedtime routine. I am lucky in that my kids sleep 11-12 hours a night. Well, sleep is used loosely. Only one always sleeps through. One always wakes up, always has. One frequently does, sometimes staying up an hour or more. The last rarely wakes up and is easily put back to sleep. Mix the 4 and it's a lottery game every night.

By 7:30, 8 at the latest you've got a 90% chance they are all asleep. Although a good part of me feels a desire to pass out right then, I actually would just lie there awake anyway until Jim is ready for bed so I engage in some time passing no brian activity. TV, computer games, laying listly in some fashion.

Eventually it will be late enough I can convince Jim it's bedtime. Then I collapse into bed, depressed and guilty. Yet, I will do it all the same tomorrow.

This time I am coming out sooner. I see where I am. I don't feel better. I am not happy. But I can make my body move a little bit. A shower. "You stink, and you know it is another place to be alone. Now, clothes- no pajamas. Move. Just to the mailbox. See, it feels good to go outside." If I can just do a little more than yesterday. That's all, just a little more than yesterday. Slowly. . . slowly. . . just a little more than yesterday. There. Did you see it? For just a second it was there. The glimmer of hope. It will get better.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Sad Bele sprit - You are a bright glimmer of hope for others; its no wonder you run out of the stuff for yourself from time to time.

Wed Feb 08, 03:12:00 PM MST  

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