Friday I felt a bit better. Scott was home from work for the afternoon and I had enough energy to go with him to pick up his new (used) rig. We ate dinner together at a KFC/Taco Bell and I ended up singing songs with Babygirl in the car on the way home.
Saturday morning I woke up bawling uncontrollably.
I stopped breathing.
I don’t remember a lot of it. Scott says it was like I was holding my breath but refused to breathe. He snapped me out of whatever trance I was in apparently and then I remember being in his arms with him rubbing my back.
He said I scared him.
I didn’t mean to.
Things have been a bit better since then. I’m taking things one day at a time. I have called the doctors office and they upped my medication for the first time in years. It’ll take a few weeks for that to kick in. I told Scott that all I want is to be happy. I just want a few days of happiness. I don’t like fearing that the demon will come back.
How do I feel today?
I’m empty and tired and have been since this weekend. Friends came over to watch the super bowl and it was a huge struggle just to hold on. The minute they left I finally felt like I could breathe. I’ve kept myself hidden in a little bubble for the past week. I only go out when I have to. More than once I picked the kids up in my pajamas (I stayed in the car so as to not embarrass them hugely). Yesterday I put on clothes and walked in to get them.
It was hard.
One of the teachers stopped to tell me about Toad’s day – a teacher I really like and have spoken with a number of times. She couldn’t tell that I’m empty inside. She couldn’t tell that I was hanging on by a thread.
Apparently I’m an excellent actress.
I’m holding on and will continue to hold on and fight. Tonight I have photography club at the school. The photo above was taken by one of my students a few weeks ago. Tonight I’ll have up to 9 pre-teens and teens looking to me to entertain them and to teach them more about photography – one of my passions. Except that right now I am not passionate about anything other than protecting my children from this side of me, and trying to hide it from them.
They know I had a rough week. I do try to hide a lot of it from them. They don’t need the burden of seeing their mother depressed. I fear that if they knew everything they would think it’s their fault the way that I always did when I was growing up. I always thought that if I were better, or nicer, or somehow perfect, those around me would be so much happier.
As an adult I know that’s not true – but I don’t want my children to even start to think it, so I hide a lot.
I’m not hiding from Scott this time like I have before. Every thought I have that is stupid I tell him. He holds me and whispers “it’ll be all right”.
Now if only I could believe him.