Crippled

Here's the thing about depression, or at least my particular brand of it.  It comes and it goes without any real warning.  There are days where I will be just fine and then it will just hit me.  The painful, crippling apathy.  The heavy heart.  The frustration with my life and everyone around me.  The overwhelming anxiety and fear of the future.  The anxiety almost always revolves around money.

When it hits, it hits hard.  Sometimes I can rock the St. John's Wort and that takes the edge off the anxiety.  Other times, it doesn't do anything for me.

Sometimes, it is so hard for me to function.  I want to curl up in a ball in bed and read or watch tv and just escape the world.

And then a little boy starts poking at me, and I remember that I have responsibilities and duties.  I drag my ass out of bed and I force myself to move.  For him.  Because I have to take care of him and love him and give him the best life that I can.

It is so hard some days.  So very hard.

It's even worse when I walk around the house and see dirty dishes that need to be washed and laundry that needs to be folded and cleaning to be done and sewing to be done.  Because then not only do I feel depressed, but I feel guilty.  I let myself feel guilty for not doing more, when some days, getting out of bed and feeding the child and changing him is about the best that I can do.

The internet is easy.  It doesn't take too many spoons for me to sit here and read facebook and G+ and wander around.  It's easy to slip away into another world when I'm like this.

Depression is a bitch.  It's crippling and it's horrible.

I do the best I can, although it's never enough.  I am never going to have an immaculate home, even when it's just me and Colin and Roland, our house is not going to be spotless.  There will be messes.  There will be clutter.  Because when I only have so many spoons in the day, my focus is on my son and my schoolwork and my husband and my writing.  Everything else just has to wait.

It is incredibly hard to remember that I have limitations.  My depression isn't as bad as it could be, and I am grateful for that.  I am mostly able to function on a day to day basis without medication.  But it's bad enough.

On days like this, all I can do is keep pushing through.  Find the little joys in my family and the things that I love and hope that will be enough.