Depression is such a boring topic. It’s not even an accurate descriptive of my feelings. I am not sad. I don’t have the “baby blues”. I’m just stuck inside of a bucket deep in a well of my own making, there are times when the bucket rises and I can see blue skies and butterflies and then other times the rope seems to slip and I delve deeper into this dark pit of nothingness.
The horrible part of all of this is that I KNOW THIS IS HAPPENING. And I can’t seem to pull myself out of it. I shake my head at myself in constant amazement that I cannot seem to “level” myself out.
A big problem for me lately is my anti-social behaviour.
Tied in part to my weight gain, tied in part to who-knows-what – I just don’t want to go out and do things in social situations – but when I do? I have a great time! Nothing bad ever happens, I don’t think anything bad ever happens, but when Jay tells me we’ve been invited to a dinner at a relative’s, and then to a wedding for some neighbours this weekend – TWO SOCIAL FUNCTIONS IN ONE WEEK! – I have this urge to feign illness and jump under the covers and sleep until it’s all over with.
I tell him I don’t want to go because I’m tired, which is partly true, but I’m always tired because my baby doesn’t sleep through the night. I am used to this situation, I can survive on four hours of broken sleep and twenty espressos. He knows this. I tell him I’m fat and don’t have any clothes to wear and I don’t want to go anywhere because of that, he says he’s fat too, let’s just suck it up and where what we have and not worry about it. I keep making excuses – the baby! my tummy hurts! I have a migraine! Chanel’s not feeling well! I have too much to do! – and he always finds some kind of solution to my “problem”.
I just don’t want to go.
I don’t know why.
I just don’t.
It drives me batshit crazy that I know that this is all in my head. I don’t think anything bad will be happening to me. I love talking, so that’s not a problem. I’m not shy, not by any means. I would just rather slump on the sofa, watch tv and eat pizza and drink wine. Not alone! With Jay. Which makes it all okay….
This whole post is depressing but I will not apologize for it or for making you read it (if you’ve even gotten this far).
You know, if you met me, if you came to my house for a tea or some coffee, I would give you a snack (maybe some cheese, a croissant, or oreos, whatever you wish) and we would watch our kids play (or just mine if you don’t have any), and we would discuss life and love and tv shows and events in town and the house build and shopping and on and on…. AND YOU WOULD NEVER GUESS I’D BE SO MESSED UP.