It's the 28th of the month, my day to post for this wonderful site. I feel like a fraud writing to you today. Hopeful parent? Not. For the last few months, I've been struggling with my first major depression. I feel such a sense of utter inadequacy as a parent. I try to tell myself that I'm not in my right mind, that this self-flagellation is undeserved and counterproductive. Deep inside me, however, I fear that if I let myself off the hook, I will just continue to fail my children and their complex, overwhelming, unrelenting needs. I haven't written on my own blog in weeks. I feel like I have absolutely nothing to offer.
I'm on my second antidepressant (the first caused symptoms of extreme anxiety), and at times I do feel a slight lifting of the veil that has darkened my view of the world. I try to believe that's a good thing, that I deserve to feel better, need to feel better, want to feel better. But I don't believe it, and I almost welcome each new wave of sadness and self-hatred.
In the meantime, I keep taking my med every day, even though I don't think I am worthy of feeling better. I see my therapist. I do my best to take care of my boys, and I haven't missed a single meeting with their teachers, therapists, doctors or case managers.
I hope next month, I have something better to say.