I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, depression is a selfish disease. Right now I am not happy and it isn’t getting any better. I’m kind of weepy, anxious, wanting to sleep all the time but not sleeping well, and I’m making stupid and risky decisions. Sounds like depression, doesn’t it?
As I’m sure most of you know, depression is always right under the surface for me. You can see it there all the time, and sometimes it breaks through and attacks me until I give up. Well, not this time; this time is different. I can feel it coming and for the love of God I am not doing this shit again. This mother fucking monster is not going to eat my soul like it usually does.
I’m doing traditional talk therapy and working out, both of which really help with the depression, but I know I need some extra help. Tomorrow I am going to the doctor and I am going to start taking a low dose of Zoloft again. I’m going to be honest; I am scared shitless. I don’t want to take these drugs for the rest of my life to have a form of normalcy. Right now I feel weak and angry because I couldn’t deal with this on my own; I’m supposed to be strong. There is a lot going on in my head regarding this decision and the events that led up to it.
The other part of this is that when Psycho and I broke up I promised myself that I would deal with some of my issues. We have talked about getting back together in the future, but I can’t do that until I do some fixing. I know that I am a hard person to love and that when I get weird I get selfish and I shut down. I’m not a good mom or partner when I’m depressed and truth be told, I’ve been depressed since before I moved in with him in March. Right now I am trying to convince myself that the break up is a blessing in disguise and a chance for me to work on my relationship with my son and myself. It’s not working yet.