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The brutal truth of me, without all the sugary coating.
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I talk about my family, my divorce, and a lot about MAKEUP.
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Wednesday, September 14, 2011

And the darkness deepens

Depression is getting worse.

Yesterday I was able to pump myself full of coffee and clean my room.
Well, mostly clean. And partially decorated, for the first time since we moved in, which I was pretty proud of.

I think today is the result of the nosedive I take after a day of practically-intravenous coffee.

Couldn't even force myself out of bed until 2:30 pm.
And only then because I work at 5 pm, and I'd rather not get fired.

The sum total I accomplished today:
Reading three books to my boys around naptime.

Then I went back to sleep.

If I don't get meds soon, I'm really not sure what is going to happen. I think I'm slipping farther from my sanity as time goes on.

Even now, I know I work in an hour and a half, and I'm sitting here in a towel (*gasp*) blogging, staring at the piles of laundry and toys all around me, wondering how I could possibly get up and do anything about it.

My son has pink eye. An extremely mild issue, one that shouldn't keep him home from school all week. Since we are uninsured, he's staying home with me all week watching Super Mario Bros. all day long - instead of going to Kindergarten - because we can't get him antibiotic eye drops. It could be so much worse, so part of me thinks I'm whining about ridiculousness, but the other part of me thinks it's time to whine a little more about the things that make life harder in what's supposed to be the best country in the world. 

I am beyond frustrated with our government's inability to keep people like me stable (and my own inability to keep up on my paperwork and stay insured).

I am also angry with things and people I know I shouldn't be. I am crying over stupid things. Last night while watching a ridiculously cheesy CW show written for teenagers, I cried. Legitimately cried, tears down my face and all. I felt real sadness over a useless character that they will end up bringing back to life anyway. Husband stared at me incredulously and said, "Are you pregnant??"

(Luckily I had a surefire way of proving I wasn't, or I would have panicked at the thought.)

"No. I'm unmedicated," I said.
He just nodded, because he knows what I am without what keeps me stable.

When I blog about this, I feel like an addict. Or at least, I feel like you will think I'm an addict. The truth is that my brain requires extra chemicals to make the connections that "normal" peoples' brains do for them automatically. The fact is, medications have been formulated and distributed for a reason, because some of us just can't do it alone.

And I'm tired of pretending to be normal, when I know I am not.

And I'm tired of the darkness. Perhaps if a few more of us spoke up, instead of hiding in our shadows, someone who holds some weight on the issue might help us get what other countries already do: a guarantee that they can get the medical care they need, when they need it, without going bankrupt to do it.

1 comment:

  1. And it is ok to write down your feelings, Aubrey. Blog on! And I really hope things will get better for you and your family. Sending you big big hugs from across the ocean!

    ReplyDelete

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