When I was growing up I kept a diary or journal of some sort, very inconsistently, at different intervals of my life. At first they were the empowering words of a child learning to express herself. Expressions of frustrations (my parents don’t get me), “true love”, and daily life (I learned a new trick on the monkey bars!). Later, they were an outlet for a severely depressed young woman, struggling to find solace in a perceived dismal existence. I thought that one day I could look back on them and laugh or my family would have a better understanding of what made me tick after I died. Now in the age of blogging, I thought what the hell; I’ve still got shit to say. If someone relates or can feel better about their life, why not allow access to the fraction of a life that is me. And if no one reads it, maybe I can look back on it and laugh…
I’ve had at least 3 really severe bouts of depression in life starting in the 5th grade. Nearing my 40th birthday my 4th downward spiral began. All I could think about was the lies I believed as a child. I thought adults knew everything and feared little. I couldn’t wait to be in charge of my own life, free of childhood fears and eating whatever I wanted for dinner. What a load of shit!!! Now fears are not from what is beneath the bed but in everyday living. The self-loathing, negative self-talk and all around mental beatings flowed in my thoughts constantly. I’d accomplished nothing in my 39 years of existing. I’m divorced, never went to graduate school, I’ve had no children, overweight, and no close friends to speak of.
The no children piece cut the deepest. In my 30’s I determined I couldn’t get pregnant. I didn’t base this on any tests or medical knowledge. Since I never had been pregnant I just figured it wasn’t meant to be and came to terms with that. Then March of 2013 I discovered I was pregnant. This scared the bageebers outta me, but I suddenly felt like I had a purpose in life. 12 weeks into the pregnancy I went to my first OB appointment. During the vaginal sonogram the doctor uttered the phrase, “Uh Oh”. He informed me, very matter of fact, there was no baby. What?? Was this a false pregnancy where I subconsciously wanted it bad enough I forced my body into believe it was? No. Everything was there, but the baby just simply didn’t continue developing. So common, he told me, it happens ALL the time. Typically, women just think they’ve started their period late. Well guess what doctor; it doesn’t happen to ME all the time. He provided options of how to go about terminating the pregnancy since it wasn’t viable but my body just had not realized it yet. Shocked and dumbfounded I chose the home version. This consisted of medication that would complete the miscarriage process all from the ‘comfort’ of my own home. It was AWFUL.
Determined to find at least some positive aspects I acknowledged I have a loving boyfriend, parents that I can count on for love and support, two adorable dogs, an affectionate cat, and a steady job. The problem with clinical depression, however, is even the positive becomes tainted in misery.
I’ve been on three types of anti-depressants of which I had horrible side effects from weight gain (Yea! let’s just add to the depression) to crazy anger outbursts. I have a filled perscription for a new medication, but I’m afraid.
So this is how I’m starting this, let’s see what happens.