It's not the best day. There's a few obligations and errands and plans today, one of which I didn't bring up to Nasser until last night. Now we're just failing on today because talking about what we need to do today and both of us feeling overwhelmed by it made me depressed.
I hate being depressed. I know it's a disease, of an organ, just like any other disease, and I don't have a stigma about mental illnesses when it comes to other people (at least I try not to), but I definitely have a stigma about it towards myself. I know that I do, but I don't know how to overcome it. I'm not even sure if stigma is the right word. I expect myself to be stronger than my depression. I expect myself to be doing all the right things to keep myself from getting depressed. Like exercising. Like eating right. Like taking time for myself to de-stress. I do often try to do these right things. But inevitably it's not good enough and I get depressed. I react badly to a comment my husband makes, or I see judgement about my parenting in something my mother-in-law (or my own mother) says about my children, or I see judgement in a look someone gives me in the grocery store when my kids are behaving badly, or I get too angry with my kids when they're fighting with eachother. I know that depression can happen with the slightest trigger even if I've been doing (or trying to do) all the right things for myself. And yet. Everytime, my depression spirals further downward because of the guilt. The guilt that I wasn't doing all the right things. I watched an episode of Gilmore Girls when I should have been getting a workout in. I snacked after dinner when I should have stuck with tea. I spent enjoyable non-productive evening time with my husband when I should have been sharing the awesome tips I learned in therapy this morning. I took on another responsibility when I should have pushed back. Hmmmm, but wait. I also chose to take TK out on his bike while I ran alongside. Awesome parenting plus a workout. I chose to blog this afternoon instead of fulfilling an obligation. Good for my soul had to take priority today.
And just like that I feel better. Thank you, blog.
TK, my four year old is a little "on the later side" with the potty training. We're doing really awesomely now after a rather long, drawn out, and rather painful process that each family member is still getting over in our own way (RG when he was 6.5 and TK was 3.5: Mommy, when I was his age, I wasn't wearing diapers at night anymore but he still wears pull-ups during the day. Why?). Without getting into too many gruesome details, we still get accidents. Sigh. We've come such a long way and I see how close we are to being "there", and yet it hurts to have so many friends whose younger kids are there and have been for awhile. Most social occasions we're able to fake being "there". But if an accident hits, all hell breaks loose. There's no guarantee I won't sit down in the middle of the party and start bawling in front of everyone, right then and there. Not doing exactly that, but holding it together so that only a voice crack or a couple tears slip out with one of my closest friends, takes all the strength that I have. And then you know what my punishment is later that evening for not holding it together perfectly? My guilt over not getting TK to the potty on time, not paying more attention to him when he's playing with his friends and cousins, gets the better of me. The assumption my brain makes that my friends are judging my parenting skills because potty training has been such a struggle for us hurts me too much. I get depressed. Only my dear dear husband, Nasser, has to see the depressed part, because that comes out in the dark hours of the night when we're safe at home away from our friends. He puts up with a lot when I'm depressed. And angry. (I love him so so much).
Today's particular accident followed with a success in the potty. Partial success. C'est la vie, right?
My depression today shouldn't be happening. I got a nice run in yesterday morning with the snow and ice starting to melt, and I got a great barre workout in today. Those workouts meant Nasser was solo parenting both weekend mornings. Starting my day off with a workout is one of the best things I can do for myself. But then I start to think that I should have done MORE workout. My original plan this morning was to bike to barre, do the barre workout, Nasser and the kids were going to pick me up afterward and then we were going to continue on with some errands. Instead I chose to get a little extra sleep this morning and skip the bike ride part. Maybe I can pinpoint that as "what I could have done differently". But then what if I had tried to bike? Maybe I wouldn't have timed it right and I would have arrived late to the class. That would have triggered the depression too. Or maybe all that would have gone well but Nasser and the kids would have been late to pick me up afterward. I would have freaked out that we weren't going to be able to get our errands done and it would have triggered the depression again. I'm sure others looking in would say, "you can't think about what could have/would have/should have happened. Instead you have to think about what to do in the future." Sure, sure, easier for you to say. My brain goes to the "what ifs" automatically. I don't say that to defend myself in my thought process, but it really and truly is my automatic thought process. And I say this to remind myself. Because otherwise I would start feeling guilty about the fact that I have trouble controlling my thought process. And that would trigger my depression.
My depression. It really and truly is mine. As much as Nasser and my family and friends, and even my children now, support me, it is my load to carry and always will be. And then I come back to that same thought, do I just need to be strong enough to bear it?
It is still a disease. And that it always will be.
I have depression. It is not mine, nor do I belong to it. It does not own me. It can help to be strong, and to do the right things, but sometimes it just hits and you do whatever you can to keep your head above the water. Today you survive and float. Maybe later this evening, or maybe not, maybe tomorrow, you will take a stab at a stroke or a kick. Then maybe your muscle memory will take over, as it usually does, and you'll get a rhythm again.
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