Every day I wake up and I can't stand the person that I am. After I pack my daughter's lunch, do her hair, feed her breakfast and send her off to school with my husband, I lay in bed, feeling sick, wondering how I got here. A memory from my past swims across my mind, torturing me for most of my morning. I lay and feel sick and smoke pot (yes, I have a prescription) and try to make it stop. Thirty minutes before I know my husband will be home, I drag myself out of bed and force myself to take a shower. Force myself to at least smell like a person for him. I rarely do my hair or my makeup. I rarely wear clothing that isn't stretchy and comfortable and when I do it's usually because I don't want to be bothered to do the laundry.
After I have lunch with my husband, I tend to lay around some more thinking about all the things I could have done with my life and all the things I could have changed or done differently. I try to think of ways to change who I've become, not even living, barely existing. Other than my husband, no one talks to me. Of the family I grew up with, only my father still has contact with me and that is just on a weekly basis when I am either dropping off my daughter for a visit or he is bringing her home. Many times, I just stay in my room and avoid seeing him, avoid having to pretend.
I've been depressed before. I know what it is to lay in bed day after day, crying, aching, dying inside. This isn't that. This is something more than that. It's like the depression has become a way of life. Like I have already given up, committed emotional suicide. That's what the pot is, emotional suicide. And I need it to stop. I need it to stop before the life I exist in isn't worth it to me anymore.
I want to be able to wake up in the morning, send my baby off to school and go for a run, come home, take a shower, clean the house, run the errands, pay the bills, pick up the kids, drive them to practice, go to their games, make dinner. I used to do those things, but sporadically and for the past six months, hardly at all. I've always wanted to be a stay at home mom and I finally have that chance, but it comes at a price. A worker's comp injury that won't heal completely and leaves me in pain for a week every time I do any physical activity two days in a row.
So what can I do? How can I alleviate the stress and the pain and the need to talk to someone, anyone about what is going on with me? I decided to start a blog. And hopefully every morning I will get up and just write out whatever awful memory is stuck in my head and then maybe after they've all been written down they'll also have been washed clean from my mind. Maybe then I can release and let go. Maybe then my life can move forward. Maybe then I can be free, be at peace.
Because right now it's devastating. It's lonely. I feel lonely. This is my outlet.
Thanks for listening,
Christine
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