Aside from the muddy tiredness that comes from depression and the medication, I have been marginally better. I’ve been up the house with the kids as I’m on a midterm break from uni and being around the kids has kept me occupied and feeling needed. Its been calming and the loneliness hasn’t been so overwhelming. S is around after work and its all been amicable. I’m sure hes feeling a bit frustrated with my being around, as he often makes excuses to be out of the TV room when I’m there. But its OK, there isn’t an atmosphere. Its also nice to be in the quiet, my house is in a suburb on a main road, so the traffic continues into the night and my neighbours, as nice as they are, love listening to loud music and having friends over. And they often sit on the deck that faces my bedroom, so I can have the noise blasting me until the small hours. While I’m feeling so down, its good to have this quiet and sleep when I need it.
I think whats horrible about being unwell is that when I have better days, the bad days come as a terrible shock. As though I’ve fallen into a false sense of security. For 2 days, I was more interactive with the kids, doing more around the house, not being as emotional. I thought I might be coming out of the depression. And i should recognise the break from the looming, dark thoughts. However, yesterday morning I had a terrible sense of anxiety and dread. My chest was tight and I felt breathless, I kept worrying about family, like something was going to happen. And then I started to think about my family of origin and something doesn’t quiet make sense to me. I had to get some pictures from my sister’s facebook page and follow links to find other family members that I have nothing to do with and I sent them to S for his thoughts because he knows my family. And I knew he’d view them objectively, although I should have known, he doesn’t really care about that stuff anymore.
I did feel emotional throughout the day, and at night, I was still feeling short of breath and anxious. I couldnt concentrate on anything and in bed (mattress on the floor!!) I spilt some tears before I finally fell into a drug induced sleep.
I had terrible nightmares, graphic and upsetting. I’m used to experiencing these alone now, so I tried to ground myself and focus on the kids this morning. But the ache is still there, distorted memories, sadness, fear, confusion.
Unfotunately S left my son and my eldest daughter. The former because he knows I love spending time with him and hes only in kindy. The latter because she’s been going through painful and heavy periods – I’m sorry for her that’s adopted my menstrual pattern. But the 2 kids feel like hard work. I can’t sleep, every time I start to doze, i’m awoken, particularly as my son has very short naps – if anything during the day. My eldest wants or needs something. I’m trying not to be snappy. But I feel so miserable and lethargic. My brain is trying to process so many things. The hurt, the medication, the tiredness, the mood. I havent done anything around the house, and I can’t even bothered to shower and put on clean clothes. It feels like I’m back to squate one.
I know that this is the usual cycle of depression. I certainly can’t expect medication to work that quickly and to suddenly snap out of this state. Its an ongoing process with a cycle of better and worse days. But it still feels disappointing.
I would go to my house and shut myself away, but S is away today and tomorrow for work and back on Saturday. So I need to be here to look after the kids.
So not only am I feeling rough, but I will be managing the house and the kids for 3 days. I don’t think S would usually leave me like this, knowing my mood, but because I seemed a little brighter the last couple of days, I guess he feels I’m OK. Plus I’ve been making a real effort with the kids. Usually in a low I’m bedridden. But of course, he cant see inside my head, doesn’t see the panic attacks anymore, doesn’t know about my nightmares. He sees what he wants to see. He has no idea how hard the mornings have been even when I was feeling a little better. I’ve tried commnunicating with him, but when I talk about my illness he looks so uncomfortable. As though I’m a random stranger approaching him to divuldge very personal information.
At least I’m accumulating valuable time with the kids, and they seem so much more secure with me in the house too. They love having their parents together. Although we are anything but!