I know the instant I wake up how my day is going to be. If I'm going to be pissed off at the world, melancholy, just on the edge of dark and depressed, or a decent mood. Never do I wake up with birds chirping and the sun shining in... never. I blame part of it on the fact that I am not a morning person until I've had about half a pot of strong coffee and the other part on the fact that I am depressed. There... I said it.
I was
inspired compelled to write about my depression after reading a couple of blog post that I follow. I can't say why I felt I needed to write it, maybe I'm asking for help? Maybe I just want someone to understand how I feel. Anyhow... click
here and
here to read their post and see why I felt I needed to do the same.
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I have suffered with depression and anxiety from self esteem issues for several years now. I can't even begin to tell you where it started, but I can tell you when I began to notice it more... after I got sober.
In high school I was the little band nerd, I had my boyfriend/friend and his friends. I never really had any close friends of my own. I stayed up under Rodney the whole time I was with him and his friends nearly every day and we spent every single day together until we broke up much to my parents relief. I'm sure that they got very tired of seeing him around the house. After Rodney came Jon, and we were the same. I never really had any friends of my own, I just went along with the crowd. Sure I had girls that I hung out with in HS, but very few. I never had any real close friends. I think this is where the depression started. I wasn't the cool kid by any standard. I was just... me.
After HS was college, and it was the same thing except... I started drinking. I believe that is when I developed my drinking problem. I drank nearly every day... my days at home were sober days. I can even remember attending class with a cranberry and vodka in my
Aladdin thermos cup. I had a new boyfriend, but we spent every waking moment together just like the other boyfriends. His friends became my friends. Non the less, I made some friends in college but I only talk to a hand full of these people and only on FB. I still never really had anyone I called my own.
So, I left college, graduated, moved back in with my parents, got an asshole of a boyfriend that was 12 years older than me, and started working in a bar. Perfect place for me. An alcoholic and a bar mix like oil and water. I worked in the bar for 5 years, the days I didn't work I usually spent them actually sitting in the bar drinking on someone else's tab. I managed to get a job tending bar in a little county hole in the wall because my regular place of employment was closed on Sunday, but I could work at this place on Sundays and drink for free... what a bargain. I don't think my parents were too excited about this, but I was making great money and paying off all my bills.
Then came along the Husband.
We moved in with each other and got married in a flash. He told me if I quit the bar, we could get married... so I did. We continued to drink and party, have a good time, all that stuff. We had our local bar we visited a couple times a week. And then it happened... we got pregnant. All the alcohol and partying went away and there I was faced with reality. Holy Shit! What am I going to do with this little thing that cries? What am I going to do with myself? What am I doing? Wait a sec... something isn't right.
That was when I realized that I had been depressed and I was self medicating by staying drunk. It was first diagnosed as postpartum depression, then it went to depression, then to depression and anxiety with a sprinkle of self esteem issues.
What I see when I look in the mirror is a failure. I see an aging overweight alcoholic that yells at her kids too much, that is selfish and has failed in life and in her marriage. I could have been so much, I could have done so much. I eat way too much. I'm depressed because I feel hopeless some days. Why should I bother? I'm bitter. Some days more than other. I don't sleep well some nights and other nights I sleep so hard that I can barely get out of the bed. I seem to have better days when I don't sleep good, go figure. I let the slightest things stress me out. To make it even better, I have social anxiety. I think people are talking bad about me when I know there is no reason for it. So, I feel like I need reassurance all the way around... from everyone. I need to hear that I'm pretty or that I did a good job to make me feel better about myself. I need to feel like people want me around. I need to feel accepted. It's a drug for me. Someone can pay attention to me and my endorphins get all excited, but it will only last for a short time... and just like a junkie I need more.
I have also found that since I quit drinking as much as I did in the past... actually hardly ever, that when I do drink, the next day I go on a complete rage. The husband and I went out just this past Friday night, I had 5 or 6 beers because I knew we were staying the night where we were. The next day I was like a ticking time bomb. I have made great strides to hide this from people, but I can't hide it from him. The rage and the need for outside attention led us down a horrible path in our marriage, but with love and patience we have learned to see the signs manage the anger.
For a while I saw a counsellor and a psychiatrist. I didn't feel like the psychiatrist had my best interest at heart so I stopped seeing him. I continued with the counsellor until I felt like she couldn't help me anymore either. She wanted me to go have girl time with my friends, what friends... fuck that. You think that is really going to help my self esteem issues? So now all I do it take a pill a day. I was taking two... I need to take two... I can only take two if I go back to the asshole psychiatrist. Dammit what do I do?
Over the years I have stopped and stared my medication. So many times I have thought to myself
I'm good, I don't need a pill anymore and I quit. Always with the same result. I get off the meds then two days later I send myself into this dark hole and the only way out is to start back taking the meds. I know when its time to start back. I'm lucky in that aspect, where most people with the same problem aren't. I've been dealing with this for several years so I can recognize when I need help. When I get to the point that I start to cry because I can't make up my mind over sweet tea or a diet coke. When I look at myself in the mirror and realize that there is no hope and I have no way out. When I lash out at people for no reason other than I want to make them feel as bad as I do. With my depression I am in such a dark place I don't think that anyone can reach me except myself. But at least I know where to find
me.
Depression is a horrible disease, it's an ugly beast that can strike anyone at any time... and there really is no help for it except medication and counselling. But no matter how much I talk to someone, I still know they will never understand how I feel. My husband doesn't understand, neither do any of my friends. In the last year I have become more depressed than I have been over the years and it continues to get worse. I've asked for help, but I'm almost afraid to ask for more... afraid that they will find something else wrong with me. What I fear the most ... I pray that my two sweet angels don't have to deal with it like I do.
