Me

I was inspired to write about this.

Based on my last few posts, it's probably quite clear that my depression is back. It never fully goes away, and the medication I am taking is one of the least effective in treating it, but the safest for Charlie's breast milk. I recently went up on the dosage, and I feel...well, I feel numb. Not so much better, but caged. All the things that normally float around in there are still there, but instead of bouncing around they are just kind chilling out in proverbial jello. The meds effect my efforts to be funny, and to communicate what's on my mind.

However, I have the most irrational fear of going off of them. That I would shut down. I would just sit in my own filth and start to look like the Mom in "What's Eating Gilbert Grape." I don't want to have to be removed from my house with a forklift when I die.***I am NOT thinking about my death, PLEASE DON'T WRITE TO ME ASKING ABOUT THAT.  Some of what I am feeling is just circumstances. The adjustments to new life, and the changes that have occurred are not so new anymore. I dreamed of being a Mom since I was a baby myself. I had imaginary "baby boys" I would chase around the house. What 2  year old has imaginary twins? Me. I dreamed of being needed, and wanted, all the time. Now, it is a reality. A wonderful reality, but also a new reality. There's never enough time in a day. Parts of my body hurt that never hurt before (part of turning 30 I suppose) and I don't have the patience for people like I used to. I have new found overwhelming patience for Charlie, but not so much for adults. I guess I feel like if you can drive a car I don't have patience for your crap.

Last time I was at the doctor, they urged me to go see a therapist they have there. Truth is, I've been to a bunch. I am sick of it. With how often I move, it's too painful to rehash all the old stuff to get down to the brass tacks of what's going on now. I don't want to have to retell my life story again. I like avoiding bringing up old things that I have moved past.

This is my therapy. The down side of this therapy, is that you want to know what's going on you read about it. I love being able to open up in written form and spill it, but it also seems that thru this I have lost contact with some people because they just read about me here.

The downfall of over sharing I suppose. That and my family members losing their shit on me for having the balls to spill it on the internet. Whether or not you believe in depression, it is real for me. It's my burden. How I deal with it is my responsibility. I do deal with it. I don't cut people down, or lock myself in a room, I just deal.

We go to the beach in a month. I can't wait. When I am near the ocean, I feel normal. I feel like life all makes sense. It helps me recenter.

Little known fact: Gigi loves the beach too.