Hubby was sick today. It's a saturday, the day I usually get to participate in tag team parenting, and maybe even get a bit of time to myself as he takes both of them (he's good at this, really...why are people always suprised when I say he's good at this?)
But today I had both kids, as I have the past five days, with the added worry of all of us getting sick (made worse by the fact that hubby refused to stay in bed). I CANNOT go another week...or two...or three with sick kid(s) as I have the past two weeks. I don't know how I managed to stay cool and not yell or set my hair on fire, but I did. My children are both in one piece, as is my husband.
I have to confront the fact that I am fairly depressed. I don't have baby blues, I think I am actually postpartum. I thought that I was bad after Tiny Man, and people kept telling me "oh, but you had so much else to deal with"....but this is also bad. If I could, I would stay in bed all day and cry. The only reason I don't is because my children cannot take care of themselves. I have days where I feel good. I start weight watchers, I blog, I clean the house, I engage in stimulating activities and play with Tiny Man while holding/shhing/cooing at Bruiser in my other arm. I think to myself "I can do this, I can stay at home and actually raise normal children and still like myself at the end of the day". Most days are not like this. Most days I watch the clock and wonder how I will make it through the rest of the hours until hubby comes home. Most days I dream of the weekend. I bargain for sleep on fridays when hubby gets home. I break down into tears when Tiny Man screams for the thousandth time. I sit on the couch during his nap, holding bruiser, staring at TV without knowing what is on.
I don't think this is sleep deprivation, although that is definately not helping me. I have a physical reaction to lack of sleep. I'm sure the typical "new parent" sleep is not making this better.
Several years ago I went through a very difficult time during a relationship and the ending of that relationship. I realized after I ended things and moved on that I had been quite depressed and not known or received help for it. I tried therapy at the time, and the therapist I saw kept pushing me to get involved in a singles group. Something to meet new people...she suggested several at a church. The whole experience just turned me off. I don't know if it didn't work out because I didn't click with the therapist, or because I wasn't honest with her, or because I wasn't as bad as I thought. At any rate, many of the same behaviors I had at that time have resurfaced...fatigue, excessive sleep (if I could get sleep I would all day...but I can't), withdrawl from friends, inability to concentrate, change in appetite (another aside...why can't I be one of those people who LOSES weight when sad?)
After I had Tiny Man I talked to my GP and told him I was down. He talked with me assured me it was normal, and wrote me a prescription. He said it wasn't surprising with everything going on. I never filled the scrip...I don't want to take drugs without seeing someone who can actually professionally evaluate me, though. I'm very scared of medicating myself for this. I'm scared of the side effects, long term effects, and not actually taking care of issues that may be causing me to feel this way.
I think mostly I keep expecting myself to snap out of it.
I know I need to get help, but I keep making excuses not to. I knew this would happen, I contacted a therapist when I was pregnant and didn't wind up going. Now I tell myself I can't get out at night. I can't even get out to buy a gallon of milk at night, how can I keep a therapy appointment? I tell myself that Hubby would sabotage any effort to keep an appointment, which is a load of crap. He would drive me there himself if he knew it would help me. I keep trying to shove this aside, thinking I will get better when I am not so tired, or when I can clean my house, or that I will feel better when all the toys are picked up or the laundry is done. Then all that happens and I still feel like throwing things. I keep myself busy all the time because I don't have to stop and look for something to do, or feel crappy, or think about all of this.
Hubby keeps asking me if I"m okay and I keep telling him I'm just so tired. I feel like if I start talking to him about this I will never be able to stop. I don't want him to worry about leaving me home in the day with the kids. I don't want him to feel sorry for me. All of these things are just more excuses to not confront what is really going on.
Like I said in the title of my last post, maybe if I write about this, I can't cheat. Maybe now I have to do something.