I'm not much of a blogger because I can't seem to stick with anything. Hoping that that will all change, but who knows. Maybe that is just who I am.
Needless to say I am still having problems accepting this whole depression thing. I wonder if at times it has actually brought more grief to my life and those around me to accept that this is the proper diagnosis. I have begun to accept that I have such a feeling of hopelessness. I certainly don't want to do that. I have been taught to be a fighter all of my life. But I have begun to question when is enough enough? When do I just give up? Or have I given up already?
In spite of fighting for everything that I have, I live in a world of chaos. Is this normal? Is this what I am supposed to do? Is this what life is all about? And finally…if this IS what it is all about, why can't I seem to handle it like the rest of the world? What makes me different?
On one hand I think, I want someone to come and take care of ME. To fix everything and tell me that it is going to be all right. But on the other hand I think, what have I done to deserve that kind of a luxury.
When I look back and see all these thoughts running through my head, I try to reassure myself that at some point the meds will kick in and that will make all the thoughts stop. But will it? I don't know what is normal, what will the meds help and what do I have to accept and fix for myself?
I have seen references to depression being called "The Black Dog". I can definitely understand the reference. I have had this dog laying around in the corner, occasionally it wants to be let out and I have willingly obliged. But now it wants to go outside constantly. But why? You just went outside 5 minutes ago. Here…go chase a ball…go chew on a bone…just go. But it keeps bringing the damn ball back to me wanting to play fetch. I try to lock it in its kennel, but it whines and howls. Now it is starting to bark! JUST SHUT UP ALREADY! What happened to the days where I could just pet you and you'd curl up around my feet and be satisfied?
My sense of reponsibility is the only thing that keeps me here right now. If I didn't have this nagging sense of responsibility I could just so easily run away. Run away from it all. It is so sad…my husband, my children, my job. Emotionally, I think I could give it all up. But I feel responsible and that is why I don't. It isn't because of love, I'm not sure if I am capable of love anymore.
Ugh! I vowed that I was going to write and not delete this blog. But I hate to see what I have written. It is so wrong for me to have feeling like this and once I have said it out loud or written it down it becomes true. I don't want these feelings to be true. This is not who I want to be. I need to stop for now and walk away…do something else. If you get a chance to read this blog…please don't remember it. I'm sure that I will come back in a few days and delete it.