Broken and Messy

This is not going to be some pretty post. In fact, it is probably going to come out pretty ugly, but in all fairness I am warning you beforehand so if you don’t want to see all of my ugly bits and pieces, you can go ahead and click to some other momma blog that features pictures of precious little girls with gigantic bows in their perfectly combed hair and always clean clothes. I never claimed to be that mom, never claimed that this would be that blog.

I have talked recently about feeling like a kitten in a dryer tumbling towards oblivion but there is plenty that has happened recently that I haven’t told you.

I haven’t told you that I don’t want to be married anymore, that this unit that I have tried so hard to protect, so hard to build for so many years has just crumbled through my fingers. I haven’t told you about how it’s not his fault, this time, that I just physically, emotionally can’t do this (whatever this is) anymore. It’s not fair to him, to me, to the Supergirl to just keep pretending that we are all just fine, just okay, just dandy, when really? The reality is that things haven’t been anywhere close to okay in a very long time.

I have told you that I am not really sleeping anymore. Or maybe you saw that on Facebook. I don’t know.

I don’t sleep.

I also rarely eat.

The truth is I can’t sleep, my mind just won’t turn off. There are times, days that I am so very, very tired that I physically cannot stop crying. No matter how hard I try, the never ending fount of tears just keeps pouring and I can’t control it. It scares me, this inability to control my own bodily functions.

I have told you that I am taking an anti-depressant, but I haven’t told you that it may have made me a bit manic - that looking back now on the last few months I can see that the person driving this machine wasn’t really me or it was me, just a funnier, braver, more hyped up version of me. I haven’t told you that I have lashed out at friends that have seen the change that have recognized the problem and suggested therapy.

I have told you that I have a great boss. I haven’t told you that my work performance at the full-time job may have slipped due to over exhaustion or over exertion or my complete lack of ability to pay attention to anything lately. I haven’t told you that Great Boss decided to call the employee assistance program rather than writing me up. I haven’t told you that they referred me to a therapist to get me help or that I am terrified of dredging up more of the past that I would prefer to just keep buried. Or that I am terrified that by allowing them to poke and prod at me they may take away the manic side of me that does (and can) get things accomplished.

I haven’t told you that I can’t remember a time that I was really, truly happy. I can’t tell you that there was ever a time that I wasn’t looking around frantically trying to find whatever shoe was gonna drop and trying to brace myself to be the one to protect my family from those falling shoes, even at risk to myself, to my sanity, to my health. I haven’t told you that my default thinking in times of stress is to self-harm, that I am the one to blame, that they (and you) would all be so much better off if I were not a part of this world anymore.

And I know that depression lies and mental illness lies. I get that and I don’t listen and I keep fighting and I put on that façade that you see me with EVERY.SINGLE.DAY.

But there are times that the mask is too heavy, the battle is too hard, that the lies are just intolerable and on those days I am weak, so very weak.

Today, I begin a new fight. Pray for me.