Not wanting to be here.
This being a near constant
An, every other day feeling
Repeating
Overwhelming
Underwhelming
What’s the point?
What’s the point of trying to put into words?
So when I’m not here, my son can know..
It was nothing to do with him.
It was everything to do with this plague, this cancer, this curse.
I worry that all my wishings to not be here will actually take me away from him sooner than he can cope. And I can’t bear to think of him suffering because of me. I can’t bear to think of him feeling alone in this world. Wanting me. Wondering.
I am sitting here breastfeeding him. Hating myself for these thoughts. Worrying they are somehow passing onto him. Wanting to stop breastfeeding in every moment, just get him off me for fear of him “picking” this up. Trying to think of other things but these are not just thoughts. This is feeling. This is embodied. Me. I can’t get away from it. Nothing else feels quite as real or familiar anymore. The thought of wanting to put him down upsets me because I know one day we won’t be here. Never being this close to have him feed at my breast and I resent myself for wanting to stop. But my back also hurts and I feel so frustrated!
I hate who I am these days. I hate who I’ve become. Always moaning. Always annoyed. Always on the edge of pissed offness. Always tired. Exhausted. Not wanting to be here. All the time. Can’t be bothered. Don’t care. Caring too much. I don’t know. Doubting myself. Criticising myself. Criticising others. Tired. So tired. Always tired. Feeling weak. Pathetic. Miserable. Then, when I have come away from being with others, how fake I feel. They see the best mum ever. They see a positive, inspiring, encouraging, nurturing, caring friend. They see lovely, so lovely, so kind, considerate and thoughtful. Because I am. I know I am those things aswell but I feel like that’s me only 20% of the time now.
With my son I know I am so patient, kind, loving, nurturing, everything good in me most of the time. It’s as soon as he goes down for a nap and I curl up on the sofa I let a little bit of the heaviness out. Within minutes of my partner being home and having a go at him because I am genuinely so irritated. I sit on the floor and play with my son and I’m only physically there. Inside I am sad. I stare at his face and feel a sense of wonder. I watch him and feel awe. He comes over to me and I feel love. This is why I could watch him all day. This is why I record him so much. Because he is the only thing I feel genuine joy at these days. So why do I feel so bad when I am with him all day and I do get to watch him all day. Because of me and my lack of energy and my moods and how I FEEL inside. Having to do housework. Having to leave the house. Having to do things just feels like such an inconvininece to me all of the time.
This is obviously severe/chronic depression and in some ways I think I accept it but for the most part I don’t and can’t. It feels too unfair and I don’t want to accept this is my reality and will be my reality for the rest of my life. I don’t want to have to take a hundred supplements a day and be radical in getting exercise and diet just to maintain a balanced-ish way of being. I just want to be normal and fine.
#Depression #PostnatalDepression #PostpartumDepression #motherood #MentalHealth #Breastfeeding #Trapped #Parentingwithdepression #overwhelmed #SuicideIdeation #fedup #sad #melancholy
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