I am constantly torn between telling parents how much they damaged me, and how little they mean to me. That comes off sounding a bit harsh, but it is the truth. They actively fucked me up, and my entire adult life has been effected by it. They say (whoever they are) that by forty I will let everything go, and I hope that is the case.
I despise having to prove how sick I am to people. I may not look it on most days, with all the make-up, but inside I feel like I am screaming at everything. The medication helps, along with the therapeutic lifestyle, but it seems that anxiety attacks have taken on a darker form. I did not know that there was anything darker than flashback and anxiety, but there is. It is the feeling of not finding joy or peace in anything. It is the overwhelming headaches that cause me to blur my vision, and it is not fun.
How horrendous is it that I find little joys in the huge leaps that my son with is making with therapy and his autism? I mean, I set up all the appointments to make sure he is taken care of, but there is still that spark missing.
Example: when I used to give little man a shower, I would wrap him up in a towel tight and pretend to sneeze but blow chilly air on his exposed belly. I will never do it again, because it something that my father did to us when we were little. Anytime I do it, I am reminded that he saw what my mother did and continued to let her do it.
My oldest son has noticed the change, and it rips me apart. He always thinks I am mad at him, when really, I am just so freaking depressed that I can hardly move half the time. Hell, I force myself to do everything that I am doing now. Exercise, journal, meditate, clean eating, cleaning, laundry…etc. It is almost like depression has stolen my identity from me.
I guess that is what happens though, right? You take away the mind crushing anxiety, and replace it with an overwhelming of depression. Why? Because nothing I do seems to make a difference. I am not a zombie, and laugh on occasion, but it must be an extremely funny joke or video or situation.
I still play games with them, but not with the fervor that I once had. We would play all the social skills games, and play to help one another win. I still do, but I do not really gravitate toward it. I am much happier sitting down and staring out the window at the cars going by.
No matter how hard I exercise I continue to gain weight; no matter how many times I meditate I am still in a place of self-destruction; no matter how much I eat organically I cannot find the point. The only aspirations that keep me going is knowing that I have a counselor behind me that would help me do anything, I have a support group, I will not be stuck in a shitty position the rest of my life, and at some point I will get better. I will get better because I need to.
Depression has hit me hard, and it does not fit me. I am too bubbly of a person to let it consume me. However, I did want to share.
Thanks to Jenn Bovee.
Light up the Darkness,