Trying to claw my way back up


For the past month or so I’ve been sinking deeper into the pit.

Since this is going to be about me being depressed I’ll stick it under a cut.

Well, actually, for all I know I don’t but it sure as hell feels like I do.

My family has a history of a bunch of things, but two that seem to crop up most notably are alcoholism and bi-polar/manic-depression/whatever the pc term is now.

I’m not claiming to be any of these, but I do have moments where I feel I’ve sunk so low on the up/down circle that the thought of climbing back up is enough to make me give up there and then.

So, some of you may have noticed I’ve been down for a bit. I stopped writing (I still haven’t started again, I’ll deal with that tomorrow when I can get everyone the fuck out of this house and not have to cook another meal for anyone, deal with screaming children and a house that manages to magically never be clean even though all I ever seem to do is pick shit up.)

A few people might be wondering what I’m whining about right now (cause, they, like, know stuff you don’t nananana) but it doesn’t matter how much good news I get, the up from that is not enough impetus to propel me from the tar-pits, and I’m still down here, waiting to drown.

I know why parents kill their children. I know why women pack their bags and leave perfectly normal happy marriages. I know why people run away and are never ever found again.

It’s because they feel like I do at this moment, and disappearing (into your head, into the long sleep, into another land) seems like the only viable option. When all I want to do is sleep, and not talk to anyone, i know I’ve hit that point. I hate sleeping during the day, and yet, I’ve been doing it. Every task no matter how small, seems like another rock in my path, another insurmountable wall. So yeah, I’m whinging, because really, I should be happy, I should be busy being a good mom and wife and all that shit, and instead I wish everyone would just die so I can sleep. And yanno? Now that just makes me feel guily, which adds to the depression. So No, I’m not fucking winning here.

And no, it doesn’t feel like anyone can see it, and that I’m alone without help.

And yes, this is me whining about that.

Okay, Just so that people don’t worry. Let me add that since I posted this, The Slave cleaned the house while I went outside into the sunshine with the kids. I hooped until I couldn’t breathe properly, and although my chest still has that tightness, I do feel a lot better. So please don’t worry that I’m going to do anything stupid.