I never thought I'd be one of those moms who abandons their family. What kind of a person does that?
I don't plan to become such a person either. But I do want to leave. For a while. And I'm afraid that I'd come back home and still feel the same way. And my trips away would become more frequent until I couldn't bear to come home at all. I don't think that IS what would happen but I fear it.
I remember before I had children, wondering how a person could commit to being there every single day, give or take a few, for eighteen years. And when I gave birth to Montana, and was up late in the night nursing him non-stop while Jude slept beside me, as he had to work the next day, smack dab in the middle of a murder trial, I remember thinking, "Oh, boy. This is it. Irreversible. I know where I'll be now for the next 20+ years. Right here." It was overwhelming.
You'd think that I would have been incapacitated with anxiety. I was only 19. You'd think that I would have been wondering if I'd made a mistake. But instead, it was the best year of my life.
I sure do love my children. I adored my babies to pieces. I was in my element.
But now my children are becoming people and people are imperfect. And since no two people are alike, I'm swimming in a sea of personalities, quirks, brain hiccups, and emotions. And now is when it's all come to a head-- that which I feared would be overwhelming is here. It's here and it's irreversible and I'm panicking.
I want to get away. I want to leave so badly.
Do you know that I don't recall one conversation with my mother where she taught me about people and how to communicate with them (other than to tell my teachers to f--- off-- yes, she told me that), about how to be happy, about how to work, about what life was about, about goals I should set for myself... nothing. All the the conversations we have with our children about life and values, I never had that. I can't think of a single freakin' useful thing. I was never encouraged to go to university. I was never encouraged to be a certain kind of person. Nothing.
Everything I've figured out about life I've figured out on my own. Lots of observing, analysing, and reading. I say this not to make myself sound so awesome-- it's not awesome. It's just what I had to do. Sink or swim. Survival.
My point is that I'm still figuring things out (maybe we all are?) and I'm just exhausted. I'm exhausted from this life I've led and the one I'm staring in the face. I'm exhausted of fighting my demons while trying to make a supper that everyone likes and enduring Daisy's whining with patience and trying to not take it personally that she blames me for all her unhappiness. Never mind Montana's unhappiness and anxieties....
I have so much that *I* need to work through that sometimes I feel like a child myself and I'm in charge of four kids.
And I can't even begin to fathom these people who don't have Depression. People exist who have normal moods... regular... faithful. WHO ARE THESE FREAKS? * I can't imagine what it's like to not have Depression.
Want to know how depressed I've been? For the first time in 13 years of being Mormon, I've given serious thought to just giving it all up. Giving up on my marriage, my family, my salvation-- everything. I so completely understand people who say, "Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die." Those were probably people who were depressed. Maybe not. But maybe.
People who are hedonists might very well be people who are just trying to not kill themselves, latching desperately on to anything that promises a hint of happiness and novelty.
Why wouldn't religion be enough? Because contrary to what you hear, it's not for the weak. RELIGION IS FUCKING HARD. It's hard. Don't get me wrong-- it's good that it's hard. Hard things force us to rise to the occasion. But when people are ill, including mentally ill, they don't want "hard". They don't want to try. They don't want to swim; they just want someone to throw them a life buoy, or better yet, just send a yacht to pick them up.
I have one thing that keeps me alive and keeps me here: a testimony. (Sorry-- two things. The second is the fear that I'll saddle my children with as many ailments as I have.)
Nine and a half years. I've been here almost everyday. I'm tired. I don't want to be here in the heat, washing walls, cleaning toilets, putting away clutter, making food, and managing everyone else's happiness. I don't want to be doing family activities. I don't want to go to Jasper with them. I want to be alone.
No advice, please. There's nothing you can say I haven't already thought of. No lectures, telling me how good I have it and that other people have it worse. I don't give a damn.
What would be nice is if anyone had a similar story of inner hell they could share. Ever have to become a different person? Ever question ten years of your life? What got you through and how long did it take?
* Actually, Jude is one of these people. It's amazing-- with his totally depressing line of work, and with me as his wife-- that he does not get suicidal. I'm not really kicking myself when I'm down. I can be really awesome. But when I'm not? Holy hell. How can he stand to live with me?! I'm not mean or angry... much. I just totally withdraw into my own world. And how can he not be depressed out of his mind about that? He gets down, ya. But he doesn't get as low as I do as often as I do and that's a total mystery to me. WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH HIM?!
Kate Rusby - Our Town (not embeddable)
Daily Gratitudes
- Jude is very understanding.
- I have healthy kids.
- I don't have a chronic pain condition. Aside from, you know, Depression.
