Dog

A husband. A son. And te only one who seems to get me is the dog. 

Broken

Today I had a breakdown. I'd seen it comming for weeks. Finally the bomb went off. I yelled horrible to my son. And my husband. And thank god no one else Was here. Well, The Dog, but he is very forgiving. He is in fact, sitting next to me. My husband took my kid and went out for a while. And I am here, lost, feeling guilty, alone, useless, broken. I love being L's mom, but this depression won't allow me to enjoy it. I want to be OK but I don't know where to begin. 

Bittersweet

Everyone has bad days. Having one while going through depression, can be hell. Today I'm having one of those bad days. A bittersweet feeling filling my horas and heart. I'm trying really hard to be OK. I find myself putting a happy face 'cause I know no one can understand me, and I do not want to deal with their lectures on top of everything. The downside of it all is that I am only holding something that is going to explode later on. I just hope the ticking bomb takes too long and goes off far away from everyone I care.

Not caring at all.

It's been 3 years since I became a mom. At the time I witnessed first hand the second divorce of my father, something that put me through a lot of stress. It was not pretty (no breakup ever is) and I was in between crossfire with a newborn and helping out my two young brothers. I became very anxious and I ended up in therapy and got medicated. When waters calmed down, I found myself with some remains of a post partum depression which then detonated my "usual" depression. It all started with a small car accident. I wasn't able to go to the gym, which was the only thing that I had left from my pre-mom life. I tried to go back once the doctor let me, but hen we had money problems, and I had to call of the gym. It all went downhill from there: I felt guilty for not being able to help my husband financial, I felt like a burden, I started to feel anxious son I started to eat and drink more, which lead to me gaining weight, which lead to clothes not fitting any more, which lead to feeling ugly, which lead not having any interest in hanging out with anybody, so I stopped caring about my appearance. And my health. The worst part is that I don't have the drive to change it. And the very small, very hidden sane part of me is afraid of what will happen.

Not "just" sad

People often asociate depression with sadness. They see us a this extremly sad person kneeled in the darkest corner of our house always crying with a box of never ending kleenex in one hand and a knife/pills on the other. 24/7. 365. Nothing further from the truth, I can tell you now that my son is not going to have memories of "just" a sobbying woman. Rather than that, It's most likely that when he thinks about his mom, he remembers this super tired woman that spent her days wanting to sleep all the time whom ironically had big round dark circles around her eyes from not being able to sleep at night. He will look back and see this person feeling terrible for being overweight but compulsively eating anything at all times. My son will think back at this lady who has lots of plans and ideas but lacks of any desire to play or go outside. My only child will remember spending his childhood next to an suddenly too old me who's angry at everything and everyone always. Unfortunately, all of this "behaviours" are associated with laziness. People think depressed people are juts too comfortable being miserable because we want to draw attentions. Bullshit. The least we want is people looking at us being at our worst. We need help, not scolding. We need understanding, not people being condescending to us. We need people to believe in us instead of being afraid of what we might do. We need people to acknowledge what we have: depression, and love us despite of it, not minimize it ignore it. Because it is not just being super sad: its about wanting to quit life, and the horrible contradiction that this has in our hearts and minds, is a struggle that takes a toll in our beings that wears us and leaves us ready to the wolves to come and feast on us.  

Black dog

This is so accurate... http://youtu.be/XiCrniLQGYc

Sick but not really?

I have a cousin that has diabetes. She has lived with it since she was 3 years old (or so). I remember not being allowed to eat candy, cake, ketchup, or anything with sugar in front of her when she came to visit. She went to summer camps for diabetics where she learned how to deal with everything that came with her condition. My uncle and aunt researched since all about it and even today they  are up to date with whatever new treatment there is. She has had a pretty normal life considering how she had to grow up. She is a happy and healthy woman. And I think Her parents had a lot to do with it. 

The thing with depression is that people so not see it as a real decease. No matter how many studies and info is available out there, people who do not have it live in some kind of denial. Like it is not something real, a hobby almost. They make fun and dismiss our condition. And when they try to be up to the task and "accept" that their relative/friend/partner/couple has it, they become extremely condescending. 

I've been dealing with depression almost all my life and not once my parents, sister, Friends or husband have done other than see me as an eternal brat.  In their minds I'm Just this little girl doing   perpetual tantrums. They just sit down and watch, writing for the next meltdown to roll their eyes. Not one has done research on depression, seek for alternate therapy, ask the therapist what the medication has and what it does. Nothing. And is just not fair. This is just as serious as a terminal decease and support is needed. If my family or my husband would take some time to get to know what exactly is going on ('cause depression is not about just being extra sad some times), maybe we could face this a better way, and I could feel "normal" and not guilty for having this condition. 

Mommy has depression

There are two things I can do very well: banana bread and storytelling. Now, since I do not plan to open a Banana-bread-only bakery, I guess I'll stick to the storytelling thing. 

So, once upon a time, there was this lady who had a pretty good life. She had this amazing family, great friends, a nice house, even a perfect dog. But she was born with a curse, a kind of a blindfold in her brain that made her unable to enjoy any of the great things she had. With the help of her friends and family, she set up on a quest to find a spell to remove the curse. But time went by, and they couldn't find the spell. Along the way little by little, people gave up on the search and even on her. At times, she gave up to...

By this ending, you could say I'm a terrible storyteller. The thing is, this story hasn't ended yet. I'm still trying to find this spell, this magic potion  that helps me have a few more better days than bad ones and get a sort of happy ending to this tale. Maybe by letting here some of the pain out, anonymously, I can find the way. Or at least, keep on looking.