That Awful D Word.

So there are a lot of "D" words that can be said as "awful..." but the one I think is the most horrible is the following:

DEPRESSION.

I originally started this blog to discuss life. I was pregnant with Samantha, having difficulties with headaches, but moving forward and looking forward to the birth of my first child. 3 years later, now I have Samantha, Maggie, and Gavin, and this blog continues to be a reflection on life with my sweet kiddos, and the struggles that comes with being a mom, and having post partum depression.

However, somedays I just really don't feel like I'm being honest on this blog. I live my life through honesty, and yet on my blog, I worry about how people will perceive me. People I can't see. People I don't know. Stupid. I have great moments with my sweet babies, but yet, there are a lot of painful moments that I don't share. Enough of that. This blog is for me. I don't care how many people follow me. I don't care what people think. This isn't a popularity contest. This is my life. And this is my way of sharing my feelings.

So the truth.

I suffer from depression. Not just the, "oh, I'm having a bad day, let out a few tears" depression... but the "I can't get out of bed today, the world is an awful place, I'm an awful person, how will I go on," depression.

I can honestly remember the first time I felt depressed. I was 14. Eighth grade. Second semester. I had been really sick, and missed a lot of school. When I came back to school, my group of "friends" wouldn't talk to me. While I was gone, rumors had been spread, lies had been told, and it felt like the world was against me. I had put my trust into this group of girls, and yet the lies that were told were so unfounded, yet being believed. I didn't want to go to school. I was hopeful that my parents would actually move. I cried myself to sleep every night. I started swallowing a lot of pills. I didn't care. I felt like my life was over. I was alone. I still haven't forgiven one of the girls for her actions. I feel like it still effects me. I don't trust easily, or at all. I don't make friends easily. I don't let people in.

Following 8th grade, I never really handled any sad times well. I cried easily. I hid myself away. I thought of death a lot. This continued, and continued, and continued. Followed me to college. Continues to haunt me.

I try really hard to have friends. Probably too hard. I give. And give. And give. I send snail mail. I send emails. I send gifts. All I really want is a thank you. All I seem to get is silence. Yet, I keep trying, no matter how it upsets me. This has been a wake up call lately... because I've noticed Samantha really trying to make people happy by doing things for everyone, trying to please everyone... no ruffling of any feathers. This isn't a trait I want her to have to struggle with. No matter how much I try, I'm still alone. I don't want her to ever feel alone.

I've had a headache for three weeks now. Three weeks of horrible pain. I've been in the ER 4 times. I've been to acute care more than I can count. I've had two three day rounds of headache infusions. I've had a nerve block. In three weeks, none of this has helped. I'm in desperation mode to feel better. I miss my kids. I want them home. I want to be mom. Awesome mom. Mom that can be involved. Not mom that sends you to Grandma's house and never feels well. With my depression, I wonder if I'll ever feel better. I think that maybe it would be easier for everyone if I wasn't around. I can't give any of myself to my kids, so it's not like they wouldn't notice. I was referred to the pain clinic. It's an 8 month wait. EIGHT months. I can't do this again. I'm tired of being accused of seeking drugs by the ER staff. I can't take another phone call with my neurologist's office, in which I'm told "he doesn't know what to do, just go to the er or acute care."

And on top of all of that, Brandon found out that he's not getting the promotion that he deserves. Instead, the person that golf's with the boss, shows up late daily, and doesn't go the extra mile, will be getting the position. Brandon missed "too many days," when he had MRSA in his leg and couldn't walk... and was hospitalized. Total crap.

I've lost hope in many things, but mostly people. My "best" friend only contacts me when it's about her life. I have no one in Sioux Falls. The group of ladies I had, have their own lives, and I never feel like I fit in with them. I wonder if I'll ever fit in anywhere. Being alone, feeling alone... gets old. Trying to be involved in people's lives, and then trying some more, get's old. Depression gets old. Pain gets old. I'm ready to be renewed.

Melissa