Russian Roulette

I've really debated this post. I have a real hard time showing the bad in my life. I'm usually a very optimistic person. I find joy in all that I do. In the end, I decided that since this is my journal of sorts, I would be doing a real disservice to my kids and future generations if I didn't share my struggles. Maybe in a year or so I can look back at this time and decide that I can survive whatever crisis du jour I have then because I survived this. Who knows. I will preface this by saying I have no real desire to end my life. I had a friend in 6th grade whose father committed suicide. I couldn't wrap my mind around it then, and even though I can understand more of his state of mind, I couldn't do that to my babies. Not that I could do it to my husband, either, but seeing how it affected a kid is my perspective on that.
This is my second bout with post-partum depression. Of my four kids, I've only gotten it with the girls. I've never had the baby blues or any indication that this is coming. It just hits out of the blue. Because I've been through this before, I know there is a light at the end of the tunnel (on some days though, it seems like that light is from a train). I've been suffering this time for about 8 months. My last bout lasted about 1 1/2 years. Knowing that I might only be halfway through this is enough to make me depressed if I wasn't already, lol.
When I'm depressed, things are blown up in severity. No, we're not in the best financial situation, but we're not as bad as I see us as. Yes, I'm bummed I can't give my daughter gymnastics lessons and my kids piano lessons. Did I survive without years and years of gymnastics? Yes. Is ist so important that my kids don't get started on the piano before age 8? Not really. I felt bad throwing away a fundraiser from the school the other day. For $20 I could have both of my kids' self-portraits made into a tile that would be placed on a wall celebrating the 10th anniversary of the school. Then I realized that in 10 years we would be done with the school forever (if we hadn't moved before then). I've never gone to check out my old elementary schools (even online). Why spend that money? Heck, for that money I could take them to some indoor inflatable center and have them jump themselves unconscious for a few hours. The peace and quiet I got after that would be worth it to me!
Anyway, to try to get this rambling post back on track (I think subconsciously I'm still avoiding it). I've been in dark places before. I've been in a pit of nothingness, all of the joy completely sucked out of my life. I've lived in a state of constant anxiety that made me more anxious because I felt like I was going to throw up without a second's notice (luckily this was short-lived and never happened). I've had thoughts of shooting myself (although I think my brain has picked this way to die because 1. I'm deathly afraid of guns, and 2. getting a hand gun is too much of a hassle). Lately though, these thoughts are coming more and more frequently. They aren't as abstract as they once were, either. It used to be more of seeing a glimpse of a gun in a hand, but now I can almost feel the weight of it. I can hear the click as I pull the trigger on an empty chamber. I'm confused because these thoughts come out of nowhere, sometimes on the heels of happy moments. These moments aside, I would classify myself as having mild depression, the kind that's normal during these winter months. I don't know what's going on, if maybe my medication can't handle this little bit of extra depression, or what. Hopefully that's the reason and the close arrival of spring will get me back to "normal". I guess for now my optimistic thought will have to be that I haven't put any bullets in the chamber.

Sometimes you can only laugh

"Mommy, I so hansome."
"Uh huh" I say, absent-mindedly, eyes never leaving the computer screen.
"Mommy, I so hansome."
"Yes, you are, dear."
"Mommy, mommy, I so hansome!" Sighing, I resign myself to the fact that I'm not about to be left alone anytime soon unless I give my son some attention.
I look over at my 3 year-old son, the spitting image of his daddy at that age. His warm brown eyes sparkle, his grin as about as infectious as it gets. Dark blond hair all spiked up. "Yes, Sweetie," I coo, "you are very handsome."
I turn back to the computer screen and am reaching for the mouse when it hits me--I didn't spike his hair this morning.
Calling him back over, I look at him more closely. His normally blond hair has a slight reddish tint to it. My mind races to figure out what type of styling products I might have that are red. Looking closer, the smell gives it away--ketchup. He had taken the ketchup I gave him to eat with his corndog to fix his hair.
"Mommy, I so hansome!"
Yes, you are, Joshua. Yes, you are.

Biting the bullet

Well, I've done it. Decided to put my thoughts down in black and white. It only took a few months for my little perfectionist mind to do it. I'm the type that writes in my journal in pencil so I can go back and change things I don't want down. We'll see how long this lasts before I edit it, lol.