I'm really not liking the Celexa. I will continue to take it for a while, in hopes that it will do something besides just drag me further and further down into the pit. If it was not for my wonderful family, I don't know how I would make it. That's how bad I feel. I forced myself to watch TV for several hours yesterday because it was the only way I could keep my mind halfway distracted from the inner turmoil. I don't even like watching TV, and as quirky as my concentration issues have been lately, I'm surprised I even remember anything from what I viewed. I got stuck on the Lifetime Movie Network channel for three movies...and I hate LMN. But I couldn't find anything else I could pay attention to. The Food Network is a personal favorite of mine and the baby's, but it was making me hungry. So it was a LMN day. That's terribly depressing within itself.
My fiance gave me a great bit of advice yesterday. He said, instead of dwelling on all the things I can't do right now, to focus on what I do manage to accomplish each day. For instance, as much as I want to stay in bed and sleep all day and night, I take care of our baby and make sure his physical, emotional, and intellectual needs are met. I feed him, change his diapers, bathe him, play with him, read to him, give him lots of snuggle time, and even manage some smiles and laughs that are genuine (this child makes it impossible to not be at least a little happy!) Furthermore, I make myself get up and fix supper for the family most days...granted sometimes it is 9p.m. before I can drag my ass up and get it prepared. Thankfully, my fiance doesn't get up until 10p.m. to go to work on the night shift, and the other menfolk in the house are on such unpredictable schedules that it's not a major issue. I actually make myself get out of the house occasionally, probably averaging once a week. My panic attacks are too bad right now to drive or go anywhere by myself, or to go somewhere crowded, and it's fairly torturous to get out even at non-busy stores, but I make myself ride with my mom or fiance a couple of times a month and go somewhere like the grocery store. Last Tuesday my mom took me to see a friend so I could give her some clothes for her baby that my son has outgrown. My chest hurt so badly during the whole visit, and it took everything in me not to jump out the window and run like hell. Every noise, every thought of germs, every word of conversation I tried to make, was so very exhausting. But I did it. And I don't even think she was aware that something off kilter was going on inside my anxious brain, so there's a plus!
Now, if I could just get better at making necessary phone calls.
Living is harder than it should be right now. I am not completely blind to the fact that I have been here before and it does get better eventually-because it always has, right?-but I fear that it will just get worse. I fear being a failure to my family. I fear becoming someone so far down from what I have struggled so hard to maintain the past five years. I don't want to be the crazy girl again. I don't want to further negatively affect my children's memories of me, or to put my fiance through hell. I want to be good to these precious people. I want to nurture them and love them and do good things for them. I don't want to be broken. I want to take care of them, not the other way around.
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