The brick wall

I am pretty sure I am hitting a big fat brick wall. My motivation to get over being depressed is waning. I mean, really, a doctor can't/won't help me... maybe what I am going through is just so abnormal that there is no cure. I hate getting up to go to work. I hate having to have conversations with people (which is BAAAADD! when your job is customer service). Every time the phone beeps and a call comes through, I literally roll my eyes, mutter "damn it" under my breath and then slap a smile on my face. Yesterday my cheeks hurt from smiling. The day before I woke up with a migraine that didn't go away until I fell asleep that night. I hate the medicine. I finally stopped taking it. Cause what's worse - being seriously depressed and not wanting to get out of bed OR being seriously depressed and not wanting to get out of bed WHILE sporting a massive headache, no appetite, no ability to form an intelligent thought.... I actually just forgot what the rest of my thought was.

The one bright shining spot in it all is Toby - and everytime I look at him curled up in his bed snuggling with one of his stuffed animals, my heart actually hurts. It hurts because he is asleep and I have to get through the next 4-5 hours of wakefullness by myself. It hurts because when I wake up at 1 and can't go back to sleep, it's not fair to wake him up to keep me company. And it hurts because if this doesn't get better soon, my child will actually remember me as the lady who didn't want to get off the couch

fun new panic

So, I have a fun new thing to lay awake at night worrying about. DCF. Department of Children and Family. They are my biggest fear ever since Mike tried to use the Herndando County Sheriff as a babysitting service and they called in DCF. That was the one thing that finally cut the ties of abuse. They threatened to take away my baby if I didn't divorce Mike. And now because my mind is all messed up and I've told people my mind is all messed up, now I am in bed staring at the ceiling praying no one calls DCF on me. Ain't that a pisser!

I really think it's about time to find that shrink!

Suffer the little children...

Yesterday I called my doctor. I am at a point where the new depression medicine is only NOT making me feel better but I have the side effects of a tension headache EVERY afternoon, what I call Mush Brain and now I am waking more frequently in the night to lay awake with a pounding heart. Three cheers for anxiety!! So the brilliant doctor (sarcasm, sarcasm, sarcasm) had the little nurse lady call me back. And this is an exact quote of what she said "ummm, the doctor, he said like if you are having those symptoms that there is ummm nothing they can do. They said you need to call a psychiatrist." To my outraged shriek of "you have got to be kidding me? Am I supposed to just keep taking it????"... "ummm, yeah cause sometimes the side effects go away"

So here I sit. According to a depression survey I took earlier today on a work balance website, they advised me that I am CLINICALLY Depressed and that if I start to have thoughts of death, I should call 911. I wonder if 911 would get me a different medicine?

To anyone who knows me, Toby is the main reason for my existence. Up until now, even in the depths of my darkest moments of despair, he has been the reason that I still attempted to function. And now I wonder, am I going to sink into a place where I no longer care about him, his well being? Am I going to become so lost that a sweet kiss or smile from him isn't enough to tug me out of that place?

It's not like I want to be here. I didn't wake up and say... "oh being super depressed sounds like it is fun. Let's give that a whirl!" I hate this. I despise waking in the middle of the night in a panic. I hate not feeling somewhat alive until 11 am or so. I hate wanting to lay on my couch asleep while my child plays... he doesn't let me Thank God!

In a world of problems, in a place where so many people struggle with self esteem, depression, anxiety, overeating I wonder how that doctor can feel like he did an okay thing in refusing to change my medication. I now have to start the search for a new doctor. I have an appointment with one next Thursday. Let's hope that there is enough chocolate cake and chips in the house to keep me from diving into the deep end!

Last night I sat down and realized that I am very lucky. Most people do not have the option to be born three times, all you reincarnation believers aside. My first was the actual entry into this world so I don't have much to do with that one. The second was my rebirth as a Christian and again, that one was pretty easy... just pray a little prayer, and WHAM! You are reborn. The third however came with much pain, much effort and much struggle.

My rebirth came on December 16, 2007. So I guess I am a little over 2 years old. And like a 2 year old, I am not having the easiest time dealing with my growing process. That day was the day I packed my beautiful 7 month old Tobias into my car and left my husband. I know people do that every day. Look at the divorce rate in the U.S. alone. But the difference is that on that day I walked out of a life of mental, physical and emotional abuse. I walked out to save my son, not really to save myself.

And so began the decline. With every day that I have gone without being in that relationship, I've lost a little bit more of my grip. Don't get me wrong - there are fates worse than death and spending my life with that man is one of them. So I am glad to be free, so happy to have Toby and be blessed with this awesome kid. But I probably should have sought some counseling when I walked out that door. I probably should have called one of the many centers in Tampa Bay designed to help women heal from the inside hurts, the pain no one sees. But I didn't. I was too consumed with getting it right for my son. Too busy finding a new job, a new home, a new life. And now the reality hits.

It is a slow decline into depression. I don't think you wake up one morning and BAM! Depressed! But as I sit and ponder, I can see all of the steps that took me there - mostly in my personal hygiene! Stopped shaving my legs - Hey, razors are expensive and no one sees my legs anyway. Stopped cutting my hair - that's expensive too and my stylist in Spring Hill up and quit on me. Stopped showering on a daily basis, stopped coloring my hair and then the FINAL one - stopped getting pedicures. That was always my one guilty pleasure in life. Then I started feeling guilty about having my mom watch Toby and using $25 to get one - cause that was money that could have gone to gas, groceries, or diapers. So here I am now, a hairy, stinky creature.

Loss of gravitational pull...

I am creating a blog. Never thought I'd see myself doing that but after watching Julie and Julia, I became inspired in a small crazy way. See, for the past month or so, I have been sinking into a spot of depression unlike any I have ever experienced. Getting up to go to work became a challenge. Thinking about going to sleep just to do it all over again the next day was enough to reduce me to tears. I tried to tell my family about it... and realized that people are ill equiped to handle a pure confession of depression. Sad in a small way and I begin to wonder how many other people are out there in their own "pit of despair" with everyone around them continuing to act like nothing is wrong.

Ironically enough, I have had so much support from friends... not the friends who I spend time with in the real world, but the friends who I encounter in social networking. I was given virtual hugs and advice on different medicines. So yesterday I visited my old and wise doctor. He promptly gave me MORE anti-depressants on top of the ones that I am already on. The hope is that it will pull me up out of the pit and into the realm of happiness again. 4-6 weeks. That seems like forever on this side of the bridge!