Ask me

Sometimes I am almost desperate for someone to ask me how I'm doing ... and really mean it.

And other times I'm scared someone might actually do that.

It's been a long time since I've felt this low, for this long. Probably 16 years...when I dealt with postpartum depression after having Quent. Part of me wants to seek help; part of me wants to just push through it, knowing - or maybe just hoping - it will eventually get better. But last time, I knew it was all chemical. I knew it wasn't about what was actually going on in my life, because my life was pretty great. And now it's different. Now, I have real reasons to feel the way I do. And I'm coping; I'm getting through. I am presenting a pretty normal face to the rest of the world. Mostly.

I have withdrawn from my friends, and I don't even know if they've noticed. I seem to be able to really connect only with my children, and the comfort and safety of that is what's keeping me afloat (even if their problems are a major part of why I am feeling this way).

I know that I can choose not to be subject to my emotions, but when I can't, it's a bigger problem. But I don't know if I can or want to do the things that might fix it.

Loud

I woke up this morning at 3:30...and before I knew it, my body was wracked with loud sobs. So loud I feared Joey in the room next to mine would hear. Not that he would care, really. The sobs have subsided, but the feeling of hopelessness remains.

When I let myself feel

I think: why did you do that to me? Leave without a trace, with no notice? Jump ship on a friendship, especially after you'd complained your friends were "largely absent"? But you went and did that to me. And I did nothing to deserve it  - not a single thing. I was never needy. I never demanded anything of you. I was nothing but kind, and thoughtful and gave you all kinds of space. But I did enjoy your company, and you made me believe we were friends. But then you just left. And I want to just raise my chin and say it doesn't matter, doesn't hurt, doesn't register...but it does. I am strong enough, mature enough, to be vulnerable. And guess what...I know you read this sometimes. I wish that you would choose to still be part of my life, instead of a voyeur of it.

It has been a really hard couple of days. My son has been struggling with normal daily activities - so many seizures, so much weakness. I can barely keep my tears from making an appearance when he's in my presence. I have cried more than I care to admit. I love him so much, but his life...it's so difficult. I can't help him do the things he needs to do. I can't work and be that person too, but I need to work to support my family.

What is it like to have a life that you mostly get to choose? I had a taste of it, and it's gone again. I worry it will never be back. This is our normal, again: lots of seizures, lots of weakness, no making plans, no hoping for the next thing. Our life revolves around what his brain allows his body to do. And it's not much.

I want something to look forward to and I just don't know what that could possibly be. My usual means of support aren't here anymore. I am alone, and I have to figure out how to keep putting one foot in front of the other. But I just don't want to.

Losing it

A little more each day.

I know how she feels, really. That there isn't anything to look forward to except more stress, more strife, more heartache. I know that he needs me now - more than anyone else, he needs ME. I wish that he didn't, but he does. And I will stay, for him. But I honestly don't know if I would, if he ceased to be.

And I fear that very thing an awful lot, these days.

Too many seizures today. Too little school. Quite possibly, a broken foot.

And that goddamn dog who destroys everything she possibly can.

I need hope. I need something to look forward to. And I keep looking and I can't find a goddamn thing.

Learning and leaning

Educating a 9th grader through online/homeschool is, so far, harder than doing it for a 5th grader. I've done it before - I know that I can - but I had a partner before. Now, everything is on me - money, education, discipline, activity. All of it. And doing all of that while keeping another child from a bottomless downward spiral.

Added to that, my very best friend has "simply decided" that when her daughter dies, so does she. No amount of my pleading that bereaving your surviving children on purpose will do them irreparable harm seems to matter. I can't judge her; losing a child is a special kind of torturous pain that never, ever goes away. But damn if I will not try to change her mind, no matter how "decided" she is. Her family needs her. I need her. I knew when we first discovered just how bad it was, that the best friend I knew might be gone to me forever. And I grieved for that as much as anything else. But I don't want to have to grieve losing her living self.

Life is hard right now. It is. But I am strong, and when I am not, I will weep as long as I need to, and get up and face it all again.

Down

The weight of all the stuff...it makes me sad. I know I'm depressed, but at least I have reasons this time.

A good friend disappeared, left me, abandoned me, for no discernible reason.

My best friend's daughter...they can't really help her.

My son's health has taken a nosedive.

I am alone, without a partner, and I've given up on trying to change that.

It feels like things are only getting worse, not better. I try to see the bright side. I practice gratitude. But right now I will admit the future just looks so goddamn dim.