Soo.... pretty much the holidays did me in. I was geared up, coached in counseling, armed with strategies, game-plan ready and BAM - I sucked. I held a steady face but when I got home each night, I completely fell apart. To be honest, I think Les Mis freaking did me in. I got so motion sick and so sick of sing-songy stuff...
It seems every time I have an 'episode' of depression or anxiety or whatever, they get worse and worse each time. I'm not going to go into details, but this last panic attack followed by a depression low really freaked me out. Usually they suck and are horrible and go away in an hour tops (the intense part), but this happened 3 different times in a period of 4 days, the last one lasting over 3 hours and with a new added element that has never happened before. I COULD NOT calm myself down. I tried ALL the techniques I've learned in therapy. Breathing, rocking, walking, breathing, smelling my fav smell, breathing, focusing on something else, music, etc. I took meds. Triple my normal dose, and nothing. I was so scared. I still am.
I am really struggling with the my-kid-goes-to-daycare guilt. I have been fine with it in the past. I know that I cannot be a stay at home mom. Financially or mentally, it is not an option for our family. Logically, I understand that. But for some reason, I am more attached to Max right now than ever before. A few weeks ago something happened that brought me closer to him and I just don't ever want to let him go. I want to squeeze and love him and be there for him. I am savoring his every move. His little words and sentences, his gestures, his quirks. I just can't help but feel sad that I cannot be home with him - be his mom. Cannot. I don't have a choice (not to mention ever having more children). I know I get nights and weekends with him, and I do ok. I just wish - more than anything - that I was at least capable of staying at home, if financially I could. But I am not. I can't even express what a failure that makes me feel like. God's plan is for me to be a mother, not a part-time mother, really a part-time care-taker. It makes me so sad to think: what did he eat for lunch? What toys did he like to play with today? Is he learning? How is he with the other kids at daycare? Are they treating him nice? Is he treating other kids nice? Is he happy? I feel in a way like I don't even know him. Obviously it has been a particularly hard few days for me, but today this all hit me hard. By noon today I was so short tempered and impatient with Max. I had lofty plans to take Christmas down, clean, play with play-dough, play some new games I got, eat lunch, be a good, fun mom. And it just didn't work. I ended up yelling and then in tears and Benj sent me to bed. =Another fail. On a positive note, I will say this: Max woke me up by handing me my glasses, kissing my hand, and handing me a game to play. He helped me take ornaments off the tree and load the dishwasher. He is so curious and asked what everything was and why and how it worked and who uses it, etc. He was cute as could be. He's been sick with the flu so he was extra whiney, which made it hard, but also extra snuggly, which was nice. I just love him so much.
I was just telling Benj, who by-the-way is a rockstar thru this, that I am just so tired. I am so tired of fighting this shit every day. I wonder how it would be to wake up and be able to go thru a day and not have to fight and kick and push so much just to get thru. To be able to enjoy things.
I can honestly say that this is the hardest I've ever tried to get thru this and get on top of it, and it is the worst it has been, still, despite my efforts. It's been 4-ish months now. I dare anyone who has balls to tell me that mental illness is fake or made up. I understand there are different situations and people tolerate things differently. I know people can and do exaggerate it. I know that. But it is REAL. Very real. I used to think people who killed themselves must all be crazy or on drugs. Now, as I live it, I can understand where they are coming from. I get it. I get the feeling of being so tired and so discouraged with this bullshit that there feels like no other options. I get the feeling of wanting to take that full bottle of meds, just so you can escape the hell for a few hours or days. I get the feeling of knowing that you being the way you are is hurting your family, and they would be ok without you, maybe even better off. Actually believing that in your heart. I get it.
There have been some bright spots the last few weeks. I don't want to pretend there wasn't. I really am trying to count my blessings, because I have so many and I know it is healthy. I enjoyed some of the time with family for Christmas. I baked (yes, I did). Max LOVED Christmas and Santa and was the cutest thing ever and got spoiled. I won't forget the joy on his face with every present he opened, even just pajamas and non-toy stuff. Thoughtful gifts for me from family. We are loved and it is nice to see and feel that. We went to the family cabin for New Years and Max had a blast. He was starting to get sick, but he loved the kids, the fire, the snow, the loft, grandma, grandpa, etc. It made me happy to see him enjoying himself. Benj also got a well deserved vacation and that makes me happy. I do have so much support around me, which is comforting. I just wonder, the longer this goes on, how long they will last. One can only take so much. To be honest, I am surprised I still have a job.
Anyway, glad to get that out. I need to blog more often - normal things like I used to. It makes me happy and I think others like to read it too. I will try to do the Bachelor this year, depending on how good it is.
Off I go to bed for no doubt a night of half-sleeping with Max and Benj in the bed, both tossing and turning. Bleh.
That reminded me of an eCard I saw:
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