I'm still depressed. I have been for a while. I'd like to blame someone else for this. (I don't really have anyone else to blame for this.) I am failing. Not by the numbers, but by motivation.
There was a time, as recently as postpartum with L, that I would self-soothe by imagining how I wanted things to be. I had ways I wanted to be. Things I wanted to do. I had goals. I thought about ways to make my little home better. I had little ambitions. I felt this sense of looking forward to things. I haven't felt that way in a while.
Part of me is compassionate about this. Of course, it says. You're burned out. You've had a really bad few years. You're accomplishing things on paper, yes, but your system needs a reset and you don't have the wherewithal to do it right now. But will I ever? The trouble is, you think you have time. In the positive ways. In the not-so-positive ways. Time passes extremely fast, now that I'm almost 40.
And I feel like I talk about it incessantly, but I feel like there are these cycles that I get swept up in - and I'm sure most people do. The ones I'm the most worried about and saddest about are the postpartum cycle, the early childhood cycle, the middle childhood cycle, and perimenopause. How am I to get myself out from underneath these goddamn cycles? Oh, and the state of the world at large. There's that, too.
S is going through something that is beautiful and part of the start of his own cycle of rebirth. Rebirth is only exciting for a little while; it's a little bit like infatuation or limerence or a crush or something like that. The change is positive and thrilling, but then, eventually, you feel like shit again. You just do. Due to life circumstances, not feel rewarded enough for the sacrifices you're making or the things you're going through. It's tough, I know.
Everything feels so far away. I can't touch it. I feel like I'm the worst parent in the world because I can't bring myself to Do the Things I know I need to do. There was a time I'd make charts and followthrough with them (for a little while, anyway); where I'd try to make sure the boys and L had fulfilling things to do outside of school and really push helping them in school and try to make enriching activities happen 2-3 times a week and now I feel like I can barely get through a day. And there's not all that much to get through in a day, really. Almost everything feels really futile. The dishes, the laundry, physical pain, motivating myself to go to the fucking gym, the transitions between x activity and y activity. And I'm already on a depression medication. This isn't as bad as it could be, probably. The road to hell is paved in...lack of followthrough?
But, has it ever really been different? Maybe I was just more hopeful when I was younger. And now, because I've just experienced so much uh...redirection of expectation...I can't make myself pretend anymore. That things will look more like they "should". That things will "get better". But...they are better in some ways. And no worse than they've ever been in others. I do see that.
And I also see that although the girl in pictures from 16+ years ago looks happier and healthier, she...wasn't. I do miss her, although I'm concerned any optimism she had is dead or so dormant I don't know if I can really reawaken it in this lifetime.
Questions for myself:
- Why are you so afraid of hearing "no"?
- Even if you feel like you're the only one working on your environment most of the time, what, exactly, is so bad about that?
- Is it time to think seriously about moving somewhere else (this winter has been rough)?
Three questions are enough. Maybe I'll work on those next time. Oh, and I'm still working on that name post. It's just - I'm going to delete it once Ms. Thing is born for obvious reasons so I don't want to have to comb back through a backlog of sEvErAl.
Okay. Time to psych myself up to shovel the driveway while contemplating group protocols. Because I couldn't get my damn care in the driveway last night. Man have those chickens come home to roost. Anyway, have a good day!
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