I have no idea what to blog about today, so I’m just going to type and see what comes out. Most likely it will be a lot of random, rambling thoughts.
I’ve been reading a lot of blogs from the 52 Week Challenge, reading what peoples values are, reading lists of words, and interpretations of words. Powerful words. But in the end, they’re just words, aren’t they? They need to be put into action to really mean anything. And that’s what I think I am not good at. I can sit, pontificate, come up with all kinds of words, theories, ideals, sentences that sound good, but how do I follow them up? In the past I haven’t, and that’s what I want to be different this time.
It’s been almost 18 months since my dad died. There’s nothing like losing a family member to put things into perspective for you. Then my uncle died 8 months ago. Suddenly death seemed to be all around us. I was terrified I would be next. There was no logical reasoning behind it, just fear of the inevitable. There’s something about getting older, losing (young) family members (61 and 62 is way too young), that makes you realise how fast time goes, how much there is to do, to see, to accomplish, to teach your children. You start saying things like, “I’m too old for….” Truth is, we’re not 18 anymore, heck we’re not even 25 anymore. I feel like time is suffocating me.
Which does not bode well for infertility. Each month is a reminder that time is passing quickly, and running out. At what point do we let it go? Sex is just a reminder that my body isn’t doing what it is supposed to, and I’m at (past?) the point of even wanting to try anymore. It’s easier to handle it when That Time of month rolls around when we haven’t tried. Because if we haven’t tried, then we haven’t failed. Again. And with all the potential for problems, why risk it again? We got a healthy, clever, smart, sweet, funny one the first time around. Aren’t we pushing our luck and being a bit selfish wanting another just the same? Also, I can’t get my son to stop running/walking/jumping on our couch and am at my wit’s end. Do I really want to go back to the beginning and do this all over?
I’ve also been reading a lot of posts about Post Partum/Post Natal Depression. I am sure I would have blogged about my experience at some point, but I haven’t got a tag for it on my blog. I wonder if that was a subconscious thing or just overlooked. I finally found the post in which I first mentioned it here. A couple of weeks later I talked about how good I was feeling, thanks to the Cipramil I was taking. I remember, the weight of the world feeling like it had been lifted off my shoulders, getting out of bed, leaving the house, was not such a huge mission anymore. I hate that I let myself think what I was feeling was “normal” for 18 months. That is a long time to be forgetful, be blue, want to cancel every plan that was made, not face the world and just stay home, alone, with my child. Before I experienced these feelings of … worthlessness, despair, I had no idea about depression. I thought I did, like most people who have never experienced it do. “Snap out of it”, “What have they got to be depressed about?” were common thoughts and ideas on the illness. Boy did I get a wake up call. And to have been dismissed by my first doctor, where I sat in tears, saying the actual words, “I’m not coping”, for that to be dismissed as needing “an hour to myself” is disgusting. No wonder women are not diagnosed, or don’t talk about how they are feeling, when they are not given any support.
The hardest part of depression, well, one of, there are so very many, is not knowing if the “funk” you’re in is something you will come out of. Not knowing if your chemicals are imbalanced, or if you’re just feeling a normal sort of sadness that will soon pass.
This post is so all over the place. I’m grateful for my gratitude journal. It helps when thoughts about death, time, depression start crowding my mind, to think about all the positives. And today is great, why? It’s pouring. I went to bed to the sound of rain, and woke up to it as well. Now I’m blogging to the sound of it. I love it. It’s PJ’s, movies and food day. Just need to figure out what food, because much like Mother Hubbard, the cupboard is bare. Sort of like the plot to this blog post.
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