by Band Back Together | Dec 4, 2014 | Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Fear, Happiness, Loneliness, Seasonal Affective Disorder, Sibling Loss, Therapy |
I’m not a stranger to depression. I live in the frozen tundra and seasonal depression is a way of life up here. I went through previous bouts of depression after my sister died and after my first miscarriage.
It’s back. It’s been slowly building for months.
I hate it, but I have to deal with it now.
It’s not normal to sit on the couch and sob because my house is a mess and it seems like all my friends have older kids who don’t leave toy cars all over the floor. Everyone has problems. Everyone has issues. If my kids were older, there would be other messes, other problems. Wishing my children were in high school is not going to fix anything.
I feel like everyone around me has their life together while I’m falling apart. I have no interest in taking care of my house. I don’t want my pets anywhere near me. The puppy I didn’t even want, but has completely attached himself to me, needs training, but I can’t handle it. Our latest (surprise!) litter of kittens need to be litter-box trained. I can’t deal with that either. My children annoy me. Important paperwork that needs to be taken care of sits untouched because I can’t process the thoughts about how to even fill them out. My kitchen is a disaster. My living room looks like a tornado came through it. I have a load of laundry that is probably molding inside my washing machine right now.
I’ve never understood people who run away from their lives and start over. Until now. It’s really tempting. I used to go for drives by myself when I needed to blow off some steam. But now, I can’t trust myself to get behind the wheel because I don’t know if I would come back. I know my husband and my children need me. I stay because of a sense of duty, but my heart isn’t in it right now.
On Sunday, I had a really bad cold. With my husband home, I could go in the bedroom and rest. I took a good book, my laptop, my phone, my headphones, and stayed all by myself in bed for most of the day. It was the happiest I’ve been in weeks – being alone and able to do whatever I wanted. I read. I napped. I listened to some favorite music. I watched a movie that didn’t involve animated creatures. It was heavenly. When I finally had to leave the comfort of my room and my bed, I had to resist the urge to kick and scream and act like my 3-year-old when he’s overtired and I tell him he has to take a nap.
This morning, a family issue required my action, and I had what I’m guessing was an anxiety attack. I shut down. I could not do what was needed. I started shaking, and tears poured down my face. Thankfully, that action was able to be put off until tomorrow and I have time to prepare myself mentally for what I need to do.
This is scary.
My husband recognized last week that I’m not well and insisted that I get help. I met with my doctor yesterday, and she put me on an antidepressant. Unfortunately, I know all too well from all of my husband’s bipolar medications that mood and brain altering drugs can take weeks to take effect. I do no look forward to the wait.
I’ve made an appointment to meet with a therapist. I’ve let some family members and my closest friends know what’s going on with me and everyone has been really supportive.
But I still feel so very, very alone.
by Band Back Together | Nov 20, 2014 | Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Uncategorized |
I am going to try to keep this as short and to the point as I can.
My husband and I are fighting right now because he thinks it is okay to spank my almost-3-year-old son bare bottom, and get in his face, and scream. My husband has Intermittent Explosive Disorder and does just that – explode. He also has PTSD from being in Iraq for two tours, but that is a whole other ball game.
In my state, it is considered child abuse to spank bare bottom and especially if it leaves any kind of mark. I told this to him, and he said, and I quote, “I don’t give a shit, they can’t tell me how to punish my child. If you want to press charges against me, go ahead. I don’t care.”
I don’t know what to do. I am sick of having to play mediator between my husband and son. My son doesn’t know any better, and the things he gets spanked for are absolutely ridiculous. I don’t want my son to fear his father. I fear him, and I am an adult. Imagine how my son feels.
I know spanking is a debate among everyone. Some people are for it, others against it. It is just the way my husband goes about it and feels about the subject that really gets me. He just doesn’t give a shit if my son is scared of him. Doesn’t give a shit if I am scared of him.
I am in the middle of a horrible storm and don’t feel like I can get out of it. Any words of encouragement or advice are greatly and immensely appreciated.
by Band Back Together | Nov 13, 2014 | Mental Health, Postpartum Depression, Postpartum Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (P-OCD), Postpartum Psychosis |
It’s cliche.
I’m standing in the middle of a room, screaming at the top of my lungs and no one notices.
I’m surrounded. Surrounded by a husband and family who love me. Friends, both on-line and in real life. But no one ever says anything.
I want to yell, Can’t you see how much pain I’m in? Why are you ignoring me?
WHY? WHY? WHY?
Do they think I’m just asking for attention? Do they think I’m faking it for pretend sympathy? Do they think I could fix it but I don’t because then I would have nothing to talk about?
I didn’t choose this. I didn’t choose to feel helpless and alone. I didn’t choose to have to battle with myself every single day to just get out of bed.
I have to talk myself into getting up. Talk myself into feeding myself breakfast. Every single day is broken up into tiny increments. Small goals to achieve. I say to myself, I have to make it through this hour and then it’s time for a nap. Just a couple more hours and then the husband will be home. One more day until the weekend.
I fight the urge to cry and do nothing but lay on the couch. I fight the urge to go into the kitchen, late at night, and pull a knife out of the block and put it to my wrist.
No one wants to hear me say this. No one cares.
I keep screaming. And screaming. And screaming.
All I hear in my head is the screaming.
by Band Back Together | Oct 28, 2014 | Anger, Attention-Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Depression, Loneliness, Love, Rape/Sexual Assault, Self Injury, Self Loathing, Self-Esteem, Teens: Mental Illness |
This will be long …for me at least (A.D.D. will start soon..)
If you have read my stories, you will know that I don’t forget faces, especially those from relationships. And if you have read my stories, you know I talk about one specific girl in my stories – “Marie.” She put me in a downward spiral of self hate, self harm, and no self worth.
School recently started. I saw her, but I didn’t recognize her. Me, the one who never forgets a face, never gets over a girl, and I forgot! I got over her. I wanted to start crying, breaking down. For some reason, my life had frozen. I didn’t try to look for her like I used to. I had forgotten her, forgot it all. I didn’t just forget “Marie,” but the rape, the hate, all of it.
I forgot everything except the hate. People hate me because I have screwed up. I am angry. I have unimaginable rage. Right now, even the computer I’m typing on is angering me so much, but I resist. I resist the urge to lash out.
So, I met a girl. She is the sweetest girl, and she just stops me. I know I will regret saying this, but I really do love her. She is my world. When “Brina” just caresses me and holds me tight, she stops the rage and anger …and the self harm.
The earlier generations don’t seem to understand. To them, depression is a mood, not a mental illness. We didn’t choose the pain, self harm, or anger, we were born with it. We grew up faking the smile, hiding it until some sees a cut, the scar tissue, the hole in the wall, the pure hatred of society.
We struggle to simply wake up in the morning and function as a human beings, yet we still wake up. We get up, even though there is no motivation, our faces tear-stained, our hearts beating for that one girl or boy we like. We want that one special person to know the pain, the quirks, the oddities, and unknown anger. We want that one person to look into our eyes and know our hearts beat for love.
I want that one girl to see me and know that my eyes see only her. I want her to see why I wake to an ever-beating heart deep in my chest.
I found that girl. And she saw me…
My anger is clashing with my feelings of love and affection! Please help me. Reach out to me. I want to start changing my life!
Stay strong, all of you. YOU are my family.
by Band Back Together | Oct 22, 2014 | Anxiety, Anxiety Disorders, Coping With Anxiety Disorders, Generalized Anxiety Disorder Resources, Genetic Disorders, How To Help A Parent With a Special Needs Child, Maple Syrup Urine Disease, Parenting, Special Needs Parenting |
My daughter brought home her first trimester report card yesterday. She got all A’s and B’s, which I know will make her grandparents proud. I’m proud too, of course. But….
I read more than the report card. I read her progress report on her IEP goals. The report that says she’s making “slight progress” in her language arts and math classes. These are classes she takes in the cognitively impaired (special ed) room. The report also reminds me that she reads at a third grade level in some areas, and at a first grade level in others. She’s been at a third grade level since about fifth grade. She is in seventh grade.
This is when the anxiety creeps in again. When I start to worry about her future. Will she ever read at higher than a third grade level? Will she ever be able to do more than basic arithmetic? If she can’t take the standardized tests in high school, will she even get a diploma? College is likely out of the question, but there’s a tech school here in town through the school system, maybe she can go there?
Then there’s the jealousy. Hearing my friends and acquaintances kids’ read four grade levels beyond their age – skip grades – attend Big 10 colleges – earn all A’s.
Then I just try to focus on what’s happening right now. One day at a time. Push those worries back to that dark corner of my mind.
Until the next report card comes.
by Band Back Together | Oct 17, 2014 | Abuse, Adult Children of Narcissistic Parents, Emotional Abuse, Narcissistic Personality Disorder |
When I was in college student, I lived a few blocks away from some relatives. I had a standing invitation to eat at their house every Sunday night – no need to call ahead, just show up. As a starving college student, you would think I would take advantage of that, but I only went a handful of times.
Spending time with that family was painful.
You see, they had a sick game they liked to play in their family. If it had a name, it would be called “Let’s pick on April until she cries.”
April and I were very close. She had her issues, but I adored her. I have come to discover from reading the stories on this site that her mother (and possibly her father) were narcissistic. They had two “golden children,” who could do no wrong, one child who was sort of neutral, and then April was the scapegoat for the whole family.
Almost immediately after sitting down to a meal, they would start in on April. Everyone would talk about their day, but when she would try to talk, they would belittle everything she said. Nothing she ever did was good enough, and everything she said was stupid or unimportant. They would dig and push buttons until the tears fell.
I will never forget the look of satisfaction on that woman’s face when she had succeeded in destroying her daughter.
Again.
A mother is supposed to be a source of comfort and support to her children. Being a mother now myself, I can’t even comprehend how a mother can destroy her child day after day, after day.
April is married with her own kids now. And I still cringe when I hear her call her mother “Mama.” The woman never earned that title.
