nope

Yesterday, it wasn't the day not being Friday that bothered me. Not really at least. Yesterday it could have been anything that made me sad, or angry, depending on the moment. It not being Friday made me sad all day, which really isn't all that normal. It's the depression. I don't talk about it much on here, because it bothers me to discuss it. I like control and I have no control over my depression. I have no control over it and it sucks. Big time sucks.

Not having depression before a few years ago, I never really understood. I never knew how powerful it was. How it could take over. How a person could be fine one day and an absolute mess the next. I knew about it, I'd seen it in others. I even knew how one treats it, as my mother is a therapist. But I'd never experienced it, besides a few weeks ten years ago when we lost a friend. But that was situational and it went away pretty quickly. That was probably just grief. Now I have experienced it in all of it's glory and I'd gladly give it back in a heartbeat. I just don't know how to give it back. This bothers me as well.

After I lost the baby, I sank. That's the only way I can describe it. It was like drowning in quicksand, but you're still alive. You are there stuck, but you are still breathing. PPD is what my shrink called it. It took me three months to be willing to see anybody about it. I spent three months in this shell inside of my head. I barely ate, I slept more than I'd ever slept in my life and I basically ignored my family. I was not a nice, fun human being. I was a complete mess. I lost myself. Then the meds started to help and therapy started to help. I started to feel like a person again, I started acting like a mother again, a wife. Then Harrison was conceived. I'll be honest, it was not planned, nor exactly wanted. Not because of him, but because of me. I wasn't ready. It was way too soon for me. We'd lost the baby in July and was having another by the following September. The first few months of pregnancy, I sunk again. Maybe not as far again, but I did. I was afraid. Afraid to loose him, afraid to love him, just plain afraid. It made me anxious and sad. But I managed to keep living anyway. I was a little crazy, but I could deal with it. Plus, I was still medicated and that made it easier. Some people are against medication. I have no problem with that. My own mother is a big fan of healing through therapy and vitamins and herbal supplements. For me, I need the meds.

I have this husband who I adore; he's amazing and the greatest man one could ever hope to meet in their life. Of course he has faults, but they are livable. I have two beautiful, amazing, big girls who make me insane, but are an absolute joy as well. Then there is this baby boy. The one I wasn't sure I could ever love. He is an absolute miracle. I can't imagine my life without his drooly little self. He is pure light and joy.

However, I expected to be miraculously healed by now. PPD isn't one of those things you have for life. It's supposed to go away. It has, but it left a little moving gift when it left.A little consolation prize, if you will. It left the depression. It comes and goes;, it's not constant. But it lingers. Maybe it will stick around for a time, maybe forever, I really don't know.

Days like yesterday happen though. Days where I hate the world. Days where people talking bothers me. Where people who drive too slow or fast bug me. Where people who chew need to be shot. Where the dog barking makes me want to send her packing. Where something as stupid as me thinking it was Friday and it not being, make me cry. Once I start a day like that, I am not good at not falling into it. I haven't figure that out yet. Hopefully in time I will.

I am lucky in that I have a supportive family. A supportive husband who holds my hand and lets me scream about the world. One who will listen to me rant or cry. One who will take the kids out to dinner and then put them to bed, because he knows I am better left alone for a bit. And friends, I have amazing friends. Ones in my real life and ones online. Friends who will keep my girls after school and after five minutes of listening to me cry, came over to get the baby for awhile yesterday. I am also lucky that these moods don't last long. Also on bad days, my kids are not bothersome too me. Unless they are too whiney. This is a good thing, because I'd hate it if I felt about them the way I feel about everything else, on bad days. I couldn't stand it, if they thought it had anything to do with them. I have noticed patterns for when it comes. During my period for one, which is probably the cause of yesterday. After too many cold and dreary days in a row. Besides that, it's a toss up. Like I said, it comes and goes.

Today, even though it is grey and cold outside, I feel good. I showered and dressed and took snack to Bailey's class today. I feel normal. Today there is no darkness. But it is a part of me now, one that I'm going to have to come to terms with one day.

My depression has a first name. It's name is asshole.