When the fog of depression descends, very little can bring me out of it. It's like viewing the world through clouded eyes. You know the Claritin commercials? Like that. Sounds are muted, like cotton is in my ears. Smiles don't quite reach my brain for an appropriate response. I want to hide in my bed, under the covers, not necessarily sleeping, but simply...not doing, being, living. On those mornings I trudge, I shuffle, I auto-pilot.
Thank goodness for P. Because even if he can't cut all the way through the fog, my need to care for him manages to override my need to hide from the world. Thank goodness.
It's in these times that I resent him, resent my husband, resent anyone who, in my mind, forces me to be a part of things, be social, do anything but sit in a corner and cry. Yes, I said I resent my son. The beautiful, amazing, happy, outgoing miracle child I sweat, cried, bled, and prayed for. When that fog descends, I resent even him.
And then I think, "Oh, my god, how can I feel that way? How can I feel anything other than joy and thankfulness at his existence?" Even writing about this, admitting this, I am crying. Remember a couple of weeks ago I said sometimes I think the depression is worse than the anxiety? When I am in the throes of a serious blue period I swear that this is worse. With anxiety, there are medicines available for acute attacks. For depression, not so much.
And lately, this has been a major problem. Some days I can snap out of it a little. Sometimes it lasts for weeks. And when I come out of it, I remember how thankful I am for everything. And then feel so guilty for the resentment that I feel.
I have just emerged from a bad couple of weeks. I am tenuously holding onto that. Because I need to see the good, remember that, and hope my brain can hang onto it. And it's not just feeling down...it's fatigue, and body pain, and all sorts of other things. It affects EVERYTHING. I am happy to be out of it for now. And trying not to think about it coming again anytime soon