At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I’ve fallen into the pit again. The past few days have been interspersed with crying, yelling, dark thoughts, and more crying again. I haven’t been to my therapist in over a month (can’t afford the copayments), and the stress of depression is wreaking havoc on my family.
I had my annual eye appointment today, and when they checked my blood pressure, it was 130/109. It has NEVER been that high. Ever. The doc thinks it might be from all the meds I’m on, or it might be due to the stress. He highly recommends that I go in for a physical to find out what is going on. Sigh. Great. Another thing.
I am so damn tired of this depression shit. I am tired of feeling like my life is worth nothing, that I am worth nothing, and that things would be so much better if I weren’t around. I am tired of feeling alone, being alone, but tortured by my thoughts.
“Gee, you’re so fat and ugly.”
“It’s no wonder you don’t have any friends when you blow up at people like that.”
“Your house is such a mess. Can’t you even keep it clean? No wonder you can’t have people come over. Oh wait.. you don’t have any friends to even invite over.”
Yesterday I was a wreck because of our lack-of-money situation. It is a continual saga of living hand to mouth every day, and not knowing if we’ll have enough to make it to the next paycheck. I was at the grocery store yesterday getting a few things for dinner, and I knew I could not go over a certain amount because that’s what was left in the checkbook. The boys were in rare form (as in fighting, pushing each other’s buttons), Casey wanting to hog the shopping cart (I swear to you he said this: “But Momma, I’m a very good driver.” I laughed and he asked me why I was laughing. I couldn’t tell him the irony of his comment and how it so closely resembled the movie “Rainman”), and I was in a panic because I saw the total rising on the grocery bill. I broke down in tears as I had to tell the cashier to put some things back so I could make the total go down.
Then, Kerry starts crying because Casey was tickling him and he didn’t to be tickled. I yanked Casey away from Kerry, told him to stand by me, and all of this was happening with onlookers. I am sure they were thinking “This woman can’t even control herself or her kids.” I paid the total and we left, all the while I was chastising the boys for their behavior. I was so upset at not only them, but myself and the whole situation.
I know I have said this before, but the only thing that is keeping me from killing myself is my sons. But, with how I’ve been as a mom, I wonder if I’m doing more harm than good. I know this might sound very morbid, but I think I can understand a bit why some suicidal moms kill their kids at the same time- they don’t want to be without their kids. Probably the better explanation is that they are not thinking at all, and the depression is warping everything.
I honestly love my kids more than myself. I don’t really care much for myself. I hate looking at myself in the mirror and seeing what I see. I want to be pretty, more fashionable (although from an article I read in Psychology Today, I’d have to have style, and I know what my style says: mom who doesn’t care about herself), better at being a mom and homemaker, and better at being a wife. I think I suck at all of these.
Then when I think about going back to therapy, I know it’s going to be the same “well, did you do this?” and “did you do that?” and honestly, it FEELS LIKE WORK. I’m tired of working so hard, tired of feeling beat up all the time.
I’m tired of this life. I’m tired of me.