Ok, I’m not in a great spot at the moment.
In this weird place that is one foot in a depressive state and the other in “just do it” and getting stuff done. I’m happy. And I’m really sad. I know it seems I’m getting stuff done, and I am (and still have the ability to focus on that, for the moment) but under the surface … bleargh!
I’m ok. But I’m not.
Fatigue kicks it off. It makes the “busy” turn to overwhelm and the coping … well, not so much coping as dropping balls all over the place.
It started when, being tired, I lost control of something big – and something I had no control over anyway. I don’t like being out of control. It’s my “thing”, control is. Worse, the loss was loss of my website (due to issues beyond my control) for a full day. I had no safe haven, and I lost my blog, so no writing the hilariously funny things that happen in my life. Sure, I could have gone and done the ironing (*snigger*) or housework, but I had to deal with the issue at hand. This meant relying on people to get back to me, and stuff that I had no idea about.
I’m also one of those people whom depression hits. I just am. I know it. You know it. So a couple of things at once, and it started to rear its ugly, black head.
My site being down was bad, and had time to sit and think about it’s purpose. I was changing the lives of other mums. I caught some TV on postnatal depression, and felt all my efforts where in vain as the Today Show on channel 9 loudly, proudly and quite ignorantly, referred to PND as “the baby blues”. Through the entire segment. Another presenter on another show commented on the “serious consquences” of antidepressents, which had me screaming at the TV that the consequences of NOT taking antidepressents, in some cases, were much more dire and some even involved DEATH!
I couldn’t help but feel I was swimming in a quagmire of shit about parenting and barely keeping my head above water; how do you fight and ignorant society and a media that fuels the ignorance when you are just one person?
I then did some stupid things; poured coffee in an overhead cupboard, and, subsequently, everywhere else, I forgot “Crazy Hair day” at school and a few other school related bits and pieces, and actually cried at pick up on on said Crazy Hair Day. This is when the ‘bad’ thoughts start to happen.
Sometimes “what’s the point?” and the oft mentioned “put your family first” – which I get, but when you’re so passionate and driven about something it eats at you. Constantly. For the benefit of the Mumfia and the rest of them, my family do take up a fair amount of my attention. The rest of you know this and I don’t need to say anything to convince you.
Worse thoughts come. In amongst the media and its portrayal of PND, all I could think of was checking out of this society I live in. The violence and lack of appropriate management of it, the ignorance and loudmouthed sanctimonious comments that come with it, the insanity of our every parenting move commented on, the perceived danger our kids are in … I could go on. I just wanted out.
And take whatever you will from the “I wanted out” as I can assure you I entertained every interpretation of that.
I have managed to combat, mostly, the negative self talk. But moments like these, the postitive self talk almost doens’t have a voice. All I can do is sit here and let the talk come at me and at me … and just let it. I picture my mind, huddled in