Depression.

I've been seeng a lot of supportive and positive messages towards mental illness as of lately, so I feel comfortable writing this.

Depression and anxiety sucks.

As much as everyone wants to tell me nothing is wrong with me or that the way I feel is normal, they don't get it. Yeah sure, I may cover it up really well, but I have breakdowns at home weekly. These "breakdowns" happen when the last straw breaks the camels back. That last event that causes me to cry, pull my hair, slam things, and go chain smoke five cigarettes. That "event" may of been me stepping in something sticky when I came home. Or the house being hot. Or because the bathtub is still full of water from Autumn's bath. Or it could be the way someone said my name. It may even be my own child's touch that pushes me over the edge.

Yes, it's shitty that sometimes my anxiety is so high that Autumn touching me makes me freak out. I've learned to hold it in for the most part, because I really sincerely love Autumn's hugs and kisses, it's just sometimes that bitch named anxiety tells me I hate it.

Sometimes I feel like nobody gives a damn about me.I feel alone. I feel like everyone is against me. I get so mad that all of the "nice" and "thoughtful" things that someone has done for me seem like ways to keep me from bitching, not signs of affection. I even get so low as to believe my child actually hates me and has a personal vendetta against me.

There are mornings I wake up and the whole world looks like different shades of grey (and in a totally depressing and not kinky way.) I instantly hate everything. I hate the drive to work, my coffee tastes gross, and every single caller I get at work is a nuisance who shouldn't be calling- even that lady calling about her cancer treatments.

This depression and anxiety makes me an asshole. I hate who it makes me. I'm a non judgemental, live & let live, loving, friendly, adventurous, happy person. Or so I thought.

Then there are good days. I feel so energetic and so excited for the future. I feel like I can conquer my goals and succeed in being who I want to be. But it just takes one "event," that moment that is unrecognized by any other person but me.

It affects my writing. The depression doesn't allow me to write. I want to write sometimes about some witty and cute thing Autumn did, but my brain is discouraged by the cloud of depression. I get anxiety thinking about what people think of me when they read my blog. Funny thing is, I don't give a flying hoot what anyone thinks of me. My fat ass goes to the water park every other day in a tankini. I have fun with my kid and I am comfortable and cool! What peopel think about me is never a thought on my mind out there. So why do I sometimes care what people think about me?

It affects how I parent. Anxiety tells me that Autumn's toddler behavior is a result of bad parenting and letting her be "too free range" even though I whole heartedly believe in the way we are raising her. So I yell and put her in time out, which is confusing for a kid. Then I feel more like a jerk for being such a spaz.

It affects my friendships. Depression tells me that my friends are in a different place than I am, and that they've moved on and replaced me. I know this isn't true, because my friends are my family. They're there for me like one of my blood. However, depression is very convincing and always creeps up as anxiety is telling me all the horrible things that will happen to my child when I'm away with friends. Then, I'll feel guilt forever because I should've been with her instead of my friends.

It affects my relationship because I blame how I am on them. Is our relationship healthy? I wouldn't say it is. But I will say it'd be a lot healthier if I took accountability for the decisions I make instead of blaming them on him. Does he understand? Not really. This isn't how I was ten years ago when I met him, and somewhere in  between having a kid, living together, not living together,  and going back to full time work- this is who I've become. Would I love to be best friends again? Yes. Do I think he'll understand I'm not just being an asshole, but I'm actually drowning? I don't think so. But that may be depression again.

I want to be me again.
I want to be me all the time, not just when my pain is napping.
I want to be happy all the time, because frankly, some of the time is not cutting it.

It's like sleepwalking through a quarter of my life. Another quarter is like I'm being chased by a T-Rex, and in constant danger. The third quarter feels as if there are bullies in my head putting me down after every thought forms. Finally, I have one more quarter of my life where I can be myself and be happy.

I want to be myself 100% of the time, and I'm working on it. Blogging helps. Talking helps. Family helps. Friends help. Planning things help. Eating better and drinking more water helps. But I'm not quite there yet.

I'm not on medication and I'm not currently seeing a professional because of work hours. At the end of September I will be able to set up time for behavioral health so I can start seeing a shrink. However, I don't feel like they can help me. I've tried and I've been diagnosed. I've been diagnosed with Type 2 Bipolar, Depression, &Anxiety. But I was prescribed lithium, two mood stabilizers, and xanax after one 45 minute visit and we didn't even talk about the real issues. I'm weary but maybe medication is what I need right now.

I'll update with how I'm doing, but for now, I'm just trying to live day by day and surround myself with people who understand and love me. For many of my friends this is all unspoken knowledge. I have always been the crazy one - but before it was mosh pit, dance with strangers, run through the graveyard at night crazy. Now it's cry alone, ignore invites, and freak out because it's too hot or crowded crazy.

Thank you for this of you who silently support me even when I don't talk about it. And for the friends who never ask me to explain myself. Love you guys.

Photo cred to: dezandcarol.com/depression