Well it has defiantly been awhile. I was unable until recently able to get back onto my account. (plus after a few tries I had other things to get done and put it aside until a later date.)
Okay well I am sure that there are a ton of people who follow my blog. I mean there are so many that I could count them all on my little finger and still have room on that finger for more. But nonetheless I am still hear, a little more frazzle brained than normal but here.
Okay here I go, no more holding back. Quite recently I was reading a lot about different woman who all had so sort of depression going on for what ever reason, and while reading there accounts all I could think about is about how far off they have to be for their depression to matter and how sad that was. I am no stranger to depression, only to being diagnosed and treated for it. When I had my first daughter I was alone. I had my parents there to help me and a few really good souls to be on my side and tell me that I wasn't making a total mistake keeping her and not marrying the father. But I still felt ALONE. I always felt as if these people where thinking in the back of their minds how screwed I was and what a horrible mistake I was making. No as I said before these people where my parents, I mean come on what kind of parent actually thinks that about their child, but that was how I felt my parents and family really felt. Now with my friends,(what friends stilled remained my friends when they found out I was pregnant anyway) it was worse, I felt as though I was the prime example (in their eyes at least) of what not to do to mess up your life and bring strife down upon you. I had some major depression issues that never got dealt with, but I kept it all bottled up inside thinking I did not want anyone realizing what a mess I really was. I moved near someone I had dated when I was in high school, ran into a bunch of people that I had gone to school with that all looked down their nose's at me and wanted nothing to do with me anymore, I suffered through the interesting looks that I got from cute guys at diner's and thing before they realized I was 7 months pregnant, along with the looks of disgust they would give me after they noticed. There was never a reason to be depressed about it.
Then I met my husband after many, many, many failed attempts of being able to date anyone for any length of time when I had a child. After I met him and we got married (which by it's self left reasons to have issues) I thought it would all be better, but it wasn't. I got pregnant with my 2nd child and was so happy. I really didn't have that many issue's and was for the most part healthy, then I had her and it was all fine until my husband had to go back to work, doing the night shift leaving my home alone with 1 toddler and 1 infant when I was only 23 and really had never been alone until I got married. I had a huge problem with crying all the time, my mind running away with me all the time, panicking and not being able to function because of it all. I talked to him and he switched to day shift with little issue.
So I thought is was better, I went to a doctor told him what was what and he said it sounded like a mild case of postpartum depression, I added some exercise to my day and thought it was good enough. Really I knew that it was not all gone but the doctor wanted to put me on medication that would have made me a virtual zombie so I lied and said the added exercise was enough. Then I had my 3rd child and all through my pregnancy I had issues with my emotions and postpartum and all. Everyone I tried to talk to just told me it was all the hormones from being pregnant. Then my son was born and the problems only got worse and then I was told by the same doctor that he could always give me (the Zombie) medicine unless I could figure it out for myself, that was all he could do for it. Then I decided that family planning was work out good since I could not take birth control. All was okay until I found out I was pregnant again, then when my daughter was born I decided that I was not going to have anymore children until all the issues with the depression were figure out, since it had only gotten worse, so I had an IUD put in, figuring that by the time it came out that my issues with depression would bee figured out, then when my daughter turned 3 months I found out I was pregnant with my 5th. By this time my depression had double a few times, was worse cause of the whole weight gain ordeal (which has to deal with my hormones) the fact that I was a little overwhelmed by having 5 kids all under the age of 8 and feeling as though I really didn't have any friends living where I was which was a few thousand miles away from where I started. I tried to make the best of it and not show I had any real problems (since I felt like no one could help anyway)
Then my best friend got married, I lost 40 some pounds and felt a lot better. My husband job reduced his pay a little and bills were very tight, but I was not going to let any of that bother me, I had decided to try to change things around, go to a different doctor to get the depression all sorted out and be a better wife to my husband and mother to my 5 kids. Then we came back from the wedding to a notice telling us that the bank was going to take our house away cause we had missed 1 payment and had been very late on the past 6. My depression got worse at that point, a lot worse. We had to move, my husbands job made a 2.5% pay cut, not a lot by any means but enough to suck and not be able to make the payments on our second car anymore, all in all it was a few thousand a year. Our kids complained about having to move and leave their friends behind, we weren't sure what we were going to do. My parents (with out us knowing) bought a house on the other side of our neighborhood to rent out to us so we could afford it and not be homeless, it was also big enough for our family since we had grown out of our 3 bedroom house that the bank took back. I thought thing were starting to look up when depression over all that had happened finaly hit my husband. It seemed that no matter how hard I tried to make it better my husband was having depression issues of his own which only made mine worse. Then a few years after all that when I was finally ready to go talk to a doctor about all my problems with depression, was finally ready to be told I was indeed BROKEN like I felt (which if you have ever thought you were broken you know that it feels 1000 times worse when someone tell you that you are and what needs to be done in order to make it better) I broke both bones in my left leg, having to have 2 surgery's for it all the while being confined to my bed, unable to even take a shower by myself or go to the bathroom alone. It was so depressing to have to be like that for a few months. I put on even more weight and was alone a lot more often, I couldn't even go to church during all of this.
I still have issues with my leg all the time and it has been almost a year, it will be a year on Oct. 30th. It hurts like hell to walk the 1/4 mile to school with my 5 year old to take her to school and then the 1/4 mile back home again (it might even be closer than that, I never have measured the distance.) I grew up with my mother dealing with her depression in bad ways. I remember the fights that my father and her would get into the mugs flying and all the yelling and screaming and the leaving. I remember her stabbing herself in the leg when I was in high school and then having to clean up the blood off the floor, I remember going to visit her in the mental ward on more than one occasion. I have been around it my whole life! I spend most of my days in bed and crying when when one is around and making it seem like I am okay when I really have no clue what to do, I just know that I don't want to be broken anymore. I know that I am not the mother or the wife that I should be, I know I am not as great a sister or daughter that I once was and that I am not the great friend I wish to be, as well as many other things. I would love to say that I am just me and that is enough but the truth is that I am not just me. I am a shell of who I really am and that, that shell is most definitely not enough, there is no way that it is enough. I keep thing clean enough to not be smelly and gross, I wash clothes enough to make sure my family is wearing clean cloths even if I am not, I make enough food so that no one starves and I talk enough that I am able to hide my issues enough to look like laziness.
I am emboldened in writing everything down and admitting to this cause no one reads it, so really I am not telling anyone anything and my secret will remain my secret. I get tired of reading about women who have had issues with depression and it wasn't until the problems became very bad or that they were in a position of influence that their depression even mattered. I met women all the time that at some point or another they all have problems with depression in some form, but it is never dealt with cause it is never "Bad" enough to really do anything about, or so some may say. Everyone has problems with depression of some sort, to some degree, if not then they are truly blessed and wonderful people that I have never met. I know that their are a lot who exist that have never felt they have experienced any sort of problem with depression, but I refuse to admit that there exists one who has not felt depressions bitter sting at some point in their life except fo that small baby or child who does not know different yet.
Okay enough crazy for one night, I have a whole lot of things that I know I should do but can not bring myself to do them, just like always.
