Retreating to My Cave

23 03 2010

I don’t want to blog today.

Am I out of ideas? Really tired? Have better things to do? No, no (well, I am tired, but that’s not the reason), and no. Also, a big tee-hee to the idea that I might not blog due to a lack of ideas, since that hasn’t stopped me yet.

I just don’t want to communicate with anyone. I want to close the curtains, curl up in a ball under my blankets, and stay in my room for at least a week.

Ah, depression. You are a fickle mistress.

At times like this, children are a mixed blessing. If I didn’t have them, I probably would stay in bed and wallow in my misery. On the other hand, I worry about the psychological damage they’re going to end up with from having a mom who alternates between snapping at them and crying because her meds just aren’t cutting it today.

I wish I knew what to say. I wish I had some sort of stunning insight into depression I could share with you, some better way to express how this feels. How everything is bright and sharp and overwhelming, and the idea of facing another day is almost more than I can bear. Like I told one of my friends tonight–the whole Scarlett O’Hara “Tomorrow is another day” thing doesn’t work well here, because that’s exactly the problem. Tomorrow is another day, and there’s a good chance it’ll look a whole lot like today.

I’m going to end this post now. I don’t want to spend pages dwelling on depression, but it’s a big part of my life, and this wouldn’t be an honest blog if I didn’t address it. Hopefully I’ll be back to writing for my own amusement forthwith.

*After much contemplation, I’ve decided “Tomorrow is another day” is possibly one of the stupidest clichés ever written.




5 responses

25 03 2010

I can’t give too much advice but know that I am there for you. How does this quote work for you.. “the sun’ll come out….tomorrow!” hmmmm, not much better….stupid broadway and their cliche’s.
Here’s some hugs sent your way, know I’m thinking about you.

25 03 2010

Until I struggled with depression after the birth of my fourth child (who thought it was fun to cry nonstop for the first 8 months of her life when she had three sisters under 6 who were older than her) I couldn’t comprehend it. I struggled and struggled and broke down sobbing when my OB walked cheerfully into the room and said, ‘and how are we today!’ Uh, yeah. I get it now. Thankfully meds saved me that first year. Maybe it was to give me empathy. Hang in there.

24 03 2010

I feel the same way sometimes mama. Meds have helped but some days they just don’t help enough. (((HUGS)))

24 03 2010

I’m sorry you’re not feeling fine. I hope it will be better.

Writing and opening up helped me a lot. I hope it will work for you.

24 03 2010

I can relate.

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