Soul Suckers

I'm sorry if I'm not commenting on people's comments, like I used to. Please know that I'm very appreciative of the kindness and energy it takes to do so. It really does help to feel that connnection, so thanks.

I've relented and started up the Cymbalta. Day 2 of it today. I can report very few changes so far except an increase in anxiety. An increase in anxiety, yet less of an inclination to get angry. I'm a bit more subdued that way. That makes no sense, but trust me, it does to me. There's an element of fear to the anxiety. Maybe fear is always present in anxiety; does anyone else think they go hand in hand?

My decision to go back on an AD was painful, but rather simple. No, I do not want to go this route. But after much introspection and hairpulling have finally come to the conclusion that this is what's best for my kids. I'm losing ground with each day that passes, and I can't be guaranteed of a lift out of this with any of the alternative ways of dealing with depression. They all take more time than I have. The one's I've tried so far haven't done a damn thing, and I've been trying them for months. (excercise, omega3's and light therapy)

At least this way I know that in a few weeks I'll be able to function; able to play with them, listen to them, cook properly for them; do all the things a healthy mom does with their children. I can't risk taking another route and failing right now. Their emotional well-being and development is at risk. This is the most demanding of all possible jobs, and I don't have the luxury of going another route. And do you know how pissed off that makes me????

Very. I love my kids dearly, so I hope in therapy I can deal with some of these feelings of resentment. I know full well that none of this is their fault. OF COURSE! And yet why do I feel resentment every time I envision someone who is able to work on their mental health without the complication of children. I feel backed against a wall. The visions I have of me participating in some sort of holistic healing plan seem like they're getting snatched out the air. Because I am NEEDED. Down here. My soul screams in rage and pain. Melodramatic aren't I? Yeah, but keep it here, no one else suspects.

I need to get well. For them, for me. And yet it seems like an impossible dream. I honestly don't think it's within my reach. Even if I do 'feel better' on those soul-sucker antidepressants... am I really healed? Yeah right. Which is why I'll stick to my counselling as well.

Well, what an uplifting post this has turned out to be.

Better insert some humourous little image. What? You're thinking it's rather bitter and sarcastic? Ah well, I'm trying.