Depression

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So it doesn't appear that my mood is improving with the absence of my period. Usually I have to suffer through a little bit of depression, sometimes mild sometimes severe for at least a week with pms and the arrival of my dreaded monthly companion, but then it goes away and I tend to feel better for a few weeks until the next onslaught of mood swings. Sometimes I have a week and a half of bad moods, but some months I don't have any more than a day or two or a moment or two on a couple of days that I feel very bad.

Lately however my depression has been worse and lasted longer, I want to sleep more as well as having a harder time waking up in the morning and I've been having more aches and pains than usual, along with the usual sadness and the anger that is new with this bout of depression, and all those are signs of worsening depression. So with dismay I think it's finally time to turn to the medical community for some help out of my slump. Hopefully if I go back on anti-depressants I can get back to a place where I don't bite my husband's head off every time he looks at me funny.

It's hard for me to go back on anti-depressants because I hate doctors and medicine. Not because I have any fear of needles or anything, but because many times doctors want to prescribe medicine for every single ailment as a first resort, sometimes without looking for the root cause of the problem, and so much as preventative medicine which is often unnecessary. The last time I had to go to the doctor it was for a bad respiratory infection he prescribed me an antibiotic and tried to give me a steroid shot for the symptoms, which I refused. He also prescribed me a GIANT bottle of prescription cough medicine with codeine, which is one reason the entire country is starting to get dependant on pain killers. The time before that I went to him for a Staph infection on my arm that I picked up (twice) from my job at the prison and he prescribed an antibiotic for the staph, and tried to prescribe something for a yeast infection "just in case" I got a yeast infection from the antibiotics which is a common side effect for some women. I said no thanks, and told him if I suffered from that particular side effect I would treat it naturally.

It's also hard for me to go back on anti-depressants because it's like admitting defeat. I feel I'm giving up and I hate that feeling. It's hard for people to admit they need help, and it's hard for me to relinquish control, which it feels like I am if I can't even control my own emotions without medicinal help. I know that it is a medical problem and not something I can control at will, no more than I can choose to ovulate or decide not to have a period this month. But having the head knowledge of these facts doesn't change what I feel, and what I feel is that I'm failing at being an adult. Grown-ups are supposed to be able to handle everything thrown at them with ease, work 40 hours a week, pay all the bills on time, cook dinner every night, keep the house clean, and still maintain happy marriages and raise well-adjusted children. I can't even handle working 40 hours a week without wanting to just curl up in a ball and stay there. I barely get any housework done even on the weekends because I am so physically and emotionally worn out from my work week. I'm always snapping at my husband and yelling at my cats, or crying for no reason. And, again, though my head knowledge that tells me that everyone needs some kind of help and even those who make all that work look easy don't always have an easy time at it doesn't change how I feel.

Christmas

My Christmas decorating is done! I love Christmas so much; it is my favorite time of the year. I love everything about Christmas, the Christmas music, the lights, the general merriment and the gift giving. I love receiving gifts, but I am the kind that just loves to give gifts, and I would do so much more than I should if I had any money. When I was a teenager I used to wrap the gifts I was giving my friends over and over again so that when they got through with one layer (after fighting with the massive amounts of tape I put on it) there would be another layer to go through. And another, and another. I still do that sometimes. And with my darling husband being such a snoop and liking to shake presents and feel them and try to guess what they are by their shape I have taken to disguising them by putting them all in boxes or other containers. One year I wrapped a few things separately and then put them into a popcorn container and wrapped that. So when he unwrapped it he thinks its popcorn, then he opened it up and has more unwrapping to do.

I put up a tree, garland around the doors, mistletoe, a wreath, and best of all, my Christmas Village. This village has been passed down from my grandma to my mom, and then I received it from my mom. When I was a kid I loved the village and I always helped put it up, and later on my mom would let me put it up on my own. There are so many buildings in this village it would cost quite a bit to replicate. It also has a skating pond that plugs in and has moving magnets moving skaters around the lake. Unfortunately I don’t quit have the room to set it all up. Last year I had to spread it around the living room, putting most in the main spot next to the tree and then putting down snow blankets on the end tables next to the couch and putting some there. This year I am short some snow blankets (must have tossed them last year) so I put them all in the main spot and just skipped the skating pond.Of course the instant I put up the village the cats invaded, and when I booted my Romeo off the sewing table so that I could set up the village he decided he was a Christmas gift and placed himself under the tree.

As much as I love Christmas if I think about it too much I get a little sad. While seeing my beautiful tree lit up and my village all beautifully arranged brings a smile to my face, sometimes it’s a sad smile when I think of how there are no kids around to share my love of Christmas with. No kids around to enjoy the magic and mystery of the moving skating pond, or the twinkling tree, or the angel topper whose wings fluidly change color minute by minute. No Christmas stories to tell, stockings to fill, or waking early Christmas morning in anticipation of the gifts and the fun and love the day will hold. 

Maybe I Won't Give Up

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I’ve been wanting to give up for a long time. That doesn’t mean I don’t still want a baby. I still want to have a baby, and my hopes still build slightly as the end of the month nears. If my period was late the hope builds exponentially greater each day, and sometimes my mood plummets drastically after a negative test and my period finally showing up.

But today I read the most uplifting blog: Sweetness and Me: We're Baaaacccckkkk. It was about a couple who finally adopted after two years of trying. The joy emanating from the words I read was palpable, and it nearly brought tears to my eyes. She is so happy and it makes all the stress and pain and tears they experienced completely worth it. I want that.

I don’t think adoption is for me, because I can’t afford it, and I wouldn’t want to go through all the home visits and all that comes along with applying to adopt. But at this point I might consider surrogacy if I could afford it. I haven’t wanted to do that before either, (like when my sister half offered),  because it can still be a complicated process, and I always thought I would have a big problem with someone having a drink with caffeine while carrying my baby, or having drugs during labor.

But after seeing this woman’s joy through her words at having her baby none of that seems to matter. I’m sure the birth mom didn’t do everything exactly the way the adoptive mom would have, and she had to have a c-section which is also not ideal, but it doesn’t matter. She has a baby now, and she is happy. That’s what matters.

I still want a baby, I do not want to give up, but I just don’t see being able to afford the procedures, or to pay for surrogacy… I have such conflicting feelings right now. It feels good to finally have the drive to try again. But that brings along fears and sadness. If we start actively trying again then I am opening myself up to a lot more hope and a lot more letdowns. I’m afraid to make myself vulnerable again. Writing this and feeling that vulnerability is bringing real tears to my eyes now. I think I need some encouragement. 

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