I've been in a funk lately. A journaling funk. A funk in general. I don't even really know what to write here tonight, but I said I would do this religiously so I'm going to write. I honestly don't know where this post will go, what it will be about, we'll have to see.
I don't quite know what is wrong with me. Let me try to explain it. I don't feel like I want to crawl in a hole and hide all the time, but I do feel like a cloud just looms over my head. It makes me cranky. My kids get the worst of it. I hate that. I hate that stuff irritates me that really shouldn't. I walk around feeling like the weight of the world is on my shoulders, and to be honest, I haven't the foggiest idea what to do about it.
I have prayed so hard. I have given it to God, and yet, apparently, I don't let go all the way, because it is still there. Looming. Always.
Sure, I have happy moments. But I want to feel happy all the time. I remember Dr Laura always getting upset with people for saying they weren't 'comfortable'. She would say that isn't life. That we live life and have really happy moments within it. That you can't just be happy all the time. Which is fine. I can live with that. I just want the stupid weight off my shoulders. I want to breathe.
I love my kids more than life itself, and yet, I always ask myself, "do you do enough to show it? do they think you love them?" It is never enough. Nothing in my life is ever enough. I always want more. Primarily, more family. I have this notion that if I just keep having kids, I'll somehow finally feel more complete. Which sounds absolutely terrible. It makes it sound like my kids just aren't good enough. Which couldn't be farther from the truth. I just want more.
My dear confindante in Idaho insists that I need drugs. I am trying to counteract the depression with exercise. Only, I'm not succeeding with my 5 nights a week plan too well. There is always something that comes up. I've met with good ole Richard 3 times this week. Exercise is supposed to release those feel good hormones, so is sun. So I sit out on my porch looking towards the sun. The other thing is that breastfeeding releases feel good hormones, so I should be all set. And yet...the weight...
I so don't want to do antidepressants. I've been there, done that. I hated zoloft and never really felt any difference with Welbutrin. Those are about the 2 you can take while nursing. And I just don't want to be dependent on them the rest of my life.
Depression is definitely an inherited thing in my family. I'm told it goes pretty far back. I just wonder why it had to hit me. I have nothing to be depressed about. Which drives me bonkers. My life is truly great. But there's the cloud. Always the cloud.
Do you remember, many years ago, there was a 7up commercial. There would be someone with a backpack, and a 7up in the backpack, and it would be raining on them, wherever they went. This cloud followed. Because 7up was that refreshing.
That's how I feel. That lone cloud just looms about me.
I didn't mean for this to totally turn into a depression post. I usually keep this all to myself and my Idahoan confidante. I always worry that people will think I am unfit to have my kids. But really, it isn't like I can't get out of bed, or like I hurt them. I just have the cloud. And I just feel like I don't do enough for them. So that's not too bad.
I'm feeling really vulnerable now, and I don't know how long I'll leave this post up. I may take it down tomorrow....