Not one of the good days

So I find myself writing on the bad days most often, it seems. I guess when it's a good day I don't have a need to write. But it really does help me to write, it just feels therapeutic or something. Just getting the anger,frustration, whatever out of my head. I'm glad I haven't yet shared this blog with anyone....any normal person would find it...pardon the pun....quite depressing. And dark. And I don't know that I need or want pity. When I'm struggling, I think the best thing for me is distraction. And someone praying for me. I really can feel prayers.
Confession: I've been off meds for a few weeks now. Just sick and tired of not wanting or enjoying sex. And of struggling some days, even on the meds. So I know most people say it's an imbalance, it's a medical condition, you HAVE to have meds to beat it. But I WANT TO BEAT IT MYSELF. Without the side effects. WITH God. Can I do it?? I have had good days and bad days, and honestly it feels like the last week or two the good days have outnumbered the bad. That's a good thing right?
But I guess I logged in to talk about today. It's one of those days...I laid down on the couch about an hour after getting out of bed, and the tiredness overwhelmed me... I couldn't fight the sleepiness, it just takes over me and I can NOT talk myself out of it, I can't get up when it us pushing down on me. I am up again, but all I can do is sit here...putter around online....read....try to talk on the phone....try to get motivated to clean up the pig sty around me. Try not to scream at the kids. Hope and pray they know how much I love them, on the days I can't interact, hug, touch, love as much as I think I should. I ache to get out of the house, not that it would be a permanent fix but I just want to see something besides the mess around me and the same old walls. Maybe have someone smile at me, tell me how sweet my boys are, tell me to have a good day...But I tried to commit myself to trips to town twice a week. A round trip is one gallon of gas. $3.50, soon to be more I'm sure. And the trips to Goodland are inevitable, so shouldn't I limit the trips to Colby? Is it better to save money, or save my sanity? I wish we could go outside. Summertime will be good...I hope.
Turning on some Christian music now...sometimes that helps.

Words

Dirty floors.
Dirty dishes.
Mountains of laundry.
Clutter everywhere.
Beds unmade.
Bedding unwashed.
Children laughing, playing.
Children needing.
Husband wondering.

Motivation lacking.
Tiredness overwhelming.
Grumpy overflowing.
Energy lacking.
Happiness disappearing.
Enjoyment missing.
Desire dissipating.
Stress rising.
Defeat.

Me? Why?
Defeat? How?
Friends? None.
Tears. Hate. Sorrow.
Sleep. Anger. Guilt.

Help.

Healing?

I know God *can* heal me. Why won't he? I have prayed for healing often. Why must I go through this struggle in my life. I HAVE been taking my medication lately. But it's not helping so much! I've already upped my dosage. It's just not working like it did at first.
I just want to be a good person. A normal person. A good mom. A good wife. Kind. Happy. What, what, what is the purpose of this disease? Why must my family suffer? If I have to suffer, fine. But why must my beautiful, amazing, family suffer? Why can't I control myself with them? Believe me, I know what a blessing they are. I know how our family has been blessed. So why can't that be enought to make me happy?

Hate

It's going to sound pathetic, but last night as I lay in bed unable to sleep I was running through a list in my head of everything I hate about myself. I do this--hate myself--when I am depressed. I honestly tried to think of one positive trait--physical or otherwise--to like, and there was nothing. Nada. From my toes to the top of my head, the only physical trait I'm happy with is my ears. They're just right. As far as other traits....I'm unhappy, unsmart, impatient, indecisive, irritable, lazy, forgetful, messy, frumpy, addicted to junk food, addicted to fast food, addicted to internet, addicted to reading, uncreative, a bad mom, bad wife, bad friend. Socially retarded, immature. I can't sew, knit, crochet, write, draw, paint, decorate, build, repair, scrapbook, change a tire, bake (much) or cook fancy things. I can't budget, I'm not frugal, I can't handle the home or business paperwork. I'm not take-charge, not a leader, not helpful, not a go-getter.
Even the "Real Me", when not struggling with being depressed....I still don't like myself. My mood or attitude can help me look past or ignore everything I hate and not let it bother me so much. But why do I have to be such a worthless person? Why can't I have one decent talent or gift? Ugh.

Another insight...hmmm

This morning in church, I had another realization about the Depressed Me vs the Real Me. When I'm in a funk and struggling, everything within me resists reading the Bible. I just can't do it. I struggle with prayer. I find it easy to blame little dumb things on God (gee, thanks a lot for giving me my period on the week of vacation, God!! @#%^$#). I can't concentrate or comprehend sermons in church. My faith is weak, to put it mildly.
Today, on the other hand, I'm in a great mood and feeling "normal". This morning I had a literal craving to pick up my Bible and read. I was able to take notes and really hear the sermon. I've noticed this in the past, as well. On good days, I take notes and really enjoy the preaching. I can pray, I can trust, I can believe.

Interesting. Why is this? Does Satan have a strong hold on me, struggling to pull me permanently into the pits of depression? Or is my faith so weak that just being in bad mood pulls me away from it?
God, help me. God, hear me. Hear my cry.

Here I am

So, here I am, in all my (non) glory. I have struggled with depression so long I hardly know any better. Here and there are glimmers of hope, glimmers of the "real" me, and I guess those are what keep me going. I'm so tired of this battle. I just want to feel normal!!!!! I've decided to start this blog because sometimes for me writing can be therapeutic and just getting words on paper....errrr...on screen I mean.....can give me more clarity of thought and help me verbalize, to myself, this daily struggle. Perhaps instead of hating myself, and everything about myself, I can let some feelings out through writing.

Who am I? Who is the REAL me? The real me is easy going, nearly impossible to stress out, happy, overly optimistic, loving, caring, compassionate, organized, tidy, not easily angered, creative. I am a patient, kind and loving mom, enjoying my children immensely, and a kind, non-nagging, encouraging and pleasant wife. This stranger, this inhabitant of my body called Depression, is uptight, impatient, stressed, angry, sloppy, messy, unmotivated, lazy, self-loathing. I scream at the kids, react in pure, overblown anger, crab at the husband, get snotty. Just plain mean and horrible.

A few months ago I found the real me again. Jeremy said, "My sweetie has her sparkle back. This is the woman I fell in love with!" I was floating on air, so happy to feel so normal again, to be enjoying my kids, to be motivated and energetic. I finally admitted my troubles to a doctor and started Zoloft. The problem....I lost my sex life. Zip, zilch, nada, it was GONE. You have to understand, I am a very....amorous....individual. Married 7 years but still a very active and enjoyable sex life. And then it was gone. No libido left at.all. And that in itself was depressing and emotionally devastating. I missed the desire, and the enjoyment of making love. So I (foolishly?) quit my meds and wow--the fireworks in bed!!--but mentally I am worse than ever. Today I found myself screaming, roaring, snarking, and just plain angry. The mood of everyone in the house was miserable. And I hate myself for it.