I don’t know how often I will post here. There are days I feel like I can barely breathe in and out, let alone put into words the things that I’m feeling, the things that are happening to me.
When I was a little girl I could often be heard saying “let’s pretend”… it’s a good thing because I spend much of my life pretending. Pretending I’m ok. Pretending I’m not hurting. Pretending I’m not thinking about hurting myself. Pretending I don’t feel like my family would be better off without me.
After some talking with hubby we came to the conclusion I’ve been depressed for about three years. Three years and I didn’t even realize it. I had been pretending so well I had faked it even to myself.
What sort of role model am I to my children? I’m so tired of pretending. I’m not ok. I’m not happy. I’m sad. I think about hurting myself almost everyday. I think about how much better off my children and husband would be with a mentally healthy mother and wife.
The email from my mother that I discussed last time – here’s what she said
You were never diagnosed with hyperactivity .I was trying to restrict preservatives because I thought you were on the hyperactive side.(Bit of honey was my candy of choice for you) BUT I was never sure what you had been fed or how consistent your schedule was due to my working evenings. You were not defiant as I remember You were very sensitive and easily reasoned with however your father had little tolerance for childhood behavior as well as a lack of understanding in the need for schedules. This presented a challenge as it seemed to keep things stirred up.Mrs. R never reported any behaviors at nursery or kindergarden nor did any school teachers. (EXCEPT the one who complained you lick your lips to much).You had a tendency to hoard stuff, you did steal a lollypop at the store but other than that you were not a behavior issue. What I saw was a lack of consistent supervision and I don’t feel that some of the movies and places your father would take you was appropriate for a child.Some mental health issues are hereditary and some are parent or self inflicted.
She went on to talk about our family history with mental health issues but that’s their story to tell or not. Suffice to say there are is a lot of history there.
So she doesn’t think it’s “my fault”. But I can’t help but think I’m dragging my entire family into this pit that I’m in. At first I was trying to claw my way out – but now I’m sitting at the bottom of the pit rocking back and forth hoping I can get through the day.