This post will be scattered because my thoughts are. I don't know where to begin. The depression is crippling at times. When I was younger it was easier to go through the motions of it and let it work it's way out. Take my meds, lay in bed all day, have bad habits, distance myself from the world. As adults and parents, we don't easily have that choice anymore. I am finding myself not letting depression happen, because I have to get up and take care of my daughter and my other responsibilities. How about, I am now another human beings role model. Which ***** with my mind too. I am bringing a child into a world that is ****** up, into a life with two parents with mental health issues. I don't admit to myself that I'm depressed in hopes of it going away. I play with my daughter, and work on my art, and listen to music pretending that it's not there, convincing myself I'm ok. I'm not ok, and it's having a huge negative effect on my marriage.
We argue. I listen but I don't absorb anything we talk about. So the same issues keep happening. I don't admit to myself enough, that I am ****** up. What is so wrong with being ****** up? Why is it so scary to deal with it? Because it's easier to push it down and forget about it. Until I have no other choice to face it. But then it seems too late.
I had a great childhood. I have extremely supportive parents. Which may have been a part of the problem. When I was depressed, they just let me be. If I wanted to isolate myself, they let me. If I was mean it was ok because I was a depressed teenager. I was spoiled in that way. If I did something wrong, they worked with me to figure out a solution. I also have not had the courage to confront my father about negative feelings I carry from my childhood. I remember my mother and brother waking me up to tell me they needed to pick dad up from jail. He had got arrested for driving while drunk. I remember being in elementary school and figuring out myself why dad closed the door to his office often, why he always made the same snorting sound, why I found a mirror, vile, and straw always in his desk draw. I don't think there's a day that goes by that my dad doesn't smoke weed. At family events, on a boring day at home. It doesn't mean he is a bad father. We had and still have a very special bond. But I think, as I grew older, it let me be ok with not being ok. Like, I allowed myself to be ****** up, because Dad did it and he's got a great life. When I was younger, I was angry at him for resorting to drugs and alcohol even though he seemed to have the picture perfect life. What was it about his life, our beautiful home, my beautiful mother, my brother and I that made him resort to "escaping". Because that's what I've chalked it up to in my mind. He was escaping something. Escaping the normal maybe. Escaping reality, perhaps? For a very long time, I was able to smoke weed every day and eventually do worse and tell myself it was ok because dad does it and he's fine. He hasn't lost anything. Well I'm losing myself.
This time being home is a blessing and a curse. I have spent more time with my family, and have watched my daughter develop right in front of my eyes. I am forever grateful for this time being home. I have begun doing my artwork again. I have not picked up one of my pieces since before my daughter was born. I get such a low level high, a buzz, a confidence from doing art. It's something I'm in complete control over. But I've never had the time, energy, patience, or confidence to do it in the last 3 years. I am grateful for this time to be able to focus on something that brings me so much positive energy in my life again. My relationship with my husband has been challenging and a relief. We are doing things that we haven't done in years. Watching a show or movie together, eating breakfast as a family, loving each other's company. I am grateful to realize I needed this time with him now, but also arguing about things that I could have had more control over. I am anxious and nervous about what our future holds, just like everyone else. I've liked being home way more than I thought I would. There's no rush in the morning to get my daughter and I ready for the day. We eat and get dressed whenever we want. We watch too much tv, and paint outside. This time home is also giving me the break from the hustle and bustle to really dive into what's going on with me. That's why I'm here. Letting it out, letting it happen. I can not push these emotions down anymore. I have to admit what's going on and deal with it. I have to ask for help. I am not a strong woman right now. But, what's wrong with that? Why is it so scary to be anything but ok, and mentally healthy. I am ****** up, and I need to embrace it more. I don't want my daughter to grow up thinking that mental health is something to dismiss. I want her to be able to express herself and be ok with not being ok. I guess that starts with me.