Lately, it’s been abundantly clear that depression has once again gripped its claws into me with no real signs of letting go anytime soon.
Despite me literally just…being depressed…there have been some other signs that my body is screaming at me about that something isn’t quite right.
Let me be clear. If there is a moment where my husband has the kids, or the baby is napping, or literally ANY moment I have to myself…I spend it sleeping. Which is extremely uncharacteristic of me. I am not a sleep during the day kind of person. Yet…here we are.
The worst pain I’ve ever been in in my entire life was last year, when I was pregnant and had Covid. It wasn’t that I was so “sick” that I felt terrible…it was the PAIN. The joint pain, the muscle pain…I’ve had something like 12 major orthopedic surgeries in my lifetime, so pain and I are no stranger. This past week, my body has HURT. For no real reason, no specific cause, just generalized pain. I told my husband “maybe I just have Covid again” (despite feeling completely fine otherwise) and he goes “no, that’s just the depression”. Okay.
Breastfeeding? Maybe not.
Over the past few weeks, and I honestly don’t know if this is because of me and my own body’s response to whatever is going on within me, or because of something different the baby is doing, but my milk has basically completely dried up. To be honest, it feels like a huge relief, because the thought of breastfeeding for another year was just more exhausting than I could handle even just the thought of. My 10 month old chokes extremely frequently with thin liquid, and I suspect he’s gotten afraid of breastfeeding and drinking in general, so maybe that’s part of it. But he’s my 3rd baby, and I breastfed the other 2 boys for much longer, and my supply has never been an issue. So, again…is it a me problem? Because the baby weaned himself? A combination of both? Probably. But I’m going to bet that it absolutely is in large part because of the amount of stress my body is under.
Along with all the physical symptoms I’ve been experiencing this time around, perhaps the worst of them all is the pure apathy I feel. When it’s just too hard to get out of bed (after the kids are asleep) to make myself a drink, or to make myself dinner…you know it’s a problem. I really don’t want to talk to anyone, and I really don’t care about anyone. Except for the fact that that isn’t true, and I desperately wish my people would reach out to me so I feel less alone, because I sure as hell and withdrawn right now and not going to do it.
So, yeah. I’m going through it, and I really don’t know why, but it sucks.
I think part of it might be the build of up anxiety surrounding my trips. The anxiety of not getting sick, despite my 6 year old starting school a few weeks ago and it literally being completely out of my control.
The anxiety of being in a group of 13 people that I’ve never met before. And then the anxiety of coming home, only to fly out with an infant 11 hours later. (Will he be sick by the time I get home? Will my husband be? Will I be?)
I have a lot of things to look forward to, but that doesn’t ease the anxieties I feel leading up to it.
It’s 7:52am. I’ve been up since 5:50am, and I’m already so exhausted that I could fall asleep easily.
I keep telling my husband (half jokingly, half not) to go out with the kids so I can be “properly depressed”. It’s a joke at this point. Except I’m also serious.
Is it so much to ask for for some quiet time and Starbucks?