Depression

Depression. It sucks. It doesn’t go away. Most of the days it’s there, just tucked away with medication. Kept at bay. 

This last week though, it’s been taking over, trying to win. It’s presence is heavy. Like a thick dense air. You have to breath it to stay  alive, but the thickness and dank make you feel like you are drowning on dry land. 

It’s been a struggle to just get out of bed. Today, I slept in. My 3 year old Rainbow brought his iPad into the bed and watched cartoon while I drifted in and out. I couldn’t get myself out of bed until 11 when he was hungry. I sent him to the kitchen for a Poptart. It worked, but then he was thirsty. That. That he can’t do on his own. 

I got him food and a drink and then moved my blankets to the couch. It continued there. After a 4 hour nap late in the afternoon with my son, my husband came home and took him into the living room. I stayed in bed until after 8 PM. This is when my husband forced me to get up. 

I didn’t feel right. I feel off. Like I’m in a weird dream state.  He doesn’t get depression. How could I be depressed with my son around? Why didn’t he ‘fix’ everything? Trust me. I want to know why too. 

I could hear my son tell daddy that mommy was sad again. It hurt even more that my three year old can tell. I wondered why he was askin for a hug every 20-30 minutes the last few days. Hugs fix everything. Even a broken mommy. 

My son sees my depression, which makes it worse. I don’t want to be depressed. Then don’t be, right?

It’s not that simple. 

I wish it were. 

Hopefully this passes soon. I don’t like myself like this. I don’t want my son seeing it. I hate the feeling of being useless and broke.  I hate the thoughts that come along with it. I hate IT. 

No, this isn’t a coded cry for help. It’s a look into depression if you’ve never had it. If you do, it’s familiar. It’s not deep depression, and it’s very mild. But it still sucks. 

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