I haven't blogged in a while. Bluntly, I just haven't been feeling like it. School is overwhelming. Life is overwhelming. Most days, I just barely hover at simply being able to function. The depression is back full force, and the medication is doing absolutely nothing to help it. I'm in an incredibly dark place, and my only goal is making it through the day without my children seeing just how broken I actually am. That takes more energy than I usually have. So by the time they're in bed and I can actually just let it out, there's too much housework and school work to give myself time to grieve.
It seems weird, needing to grieve. But it is what I need. To grieve the loss of the person I used to be. When I was hopeful about my life, my children, my everything. Now, I just go through the motions with the glimmer of hope that they'll end up ok at the end. I've lost all hope for me. I'm a shell. A medicated shell of the woman I once was. I had hopes, dreams, goals. Plans of how our life would be, how beautiful it would be. Now it's just the realization that I am a mother, stuck in my situation, suffering from so far untreatable mental illness.
My kids are safe. I'm safe. They'll hopefully never experience the turmoil I claw my way through daily. I could never walk away from them. I can't ever stop trying to be a good mother, even at the cost of myself. The only support system I have is my husband. And his job and own stress leaves him with little to spare. I prefer that the little he can give, he gives to the kids. They need that.
Me? I need time to grieve the loss of me, time to heal these deep wounds. And that's time I simply don't have.
Now, it's time to clean the disgusting mess my home has become. Time to mother my children. Time to hold on to the last shred of of willpower I have- even if it only gets me through the rest of the day.
