It's like the plumber with a leaky faucet.
Hi there.
I'm a writer. And yet, writing about the depression I've endured over the decades is unfathomable. It's happening today. In fact, I started a journal waslast night. A first -- after years of therapist friends suggesting it. I was always so scared of what I would write. Then, I really feared what it might feel like reading it after the fact. (I have not read last night's journal entry. I don't plan to either.)
I remind myself of the plumber who does a great job while working during the day and then goes home to a leaky faucet or a broken toilet. As a professional journalist, I go home to an unfinished resume, an empty journal, or a Facebook page that hasn't had a post in years. I don't want others to know my thoughts -- not the real ones at least.
I'm struggling now. This times, it's been going on for too long. I work at a job that allows extreme flexibility and realistically isn't even full-time. I'm on salary as an editor, but I'm under stress to find another. Working from home has only hurt the depression. I've moved to a new area within the last year or so and my usual outgoing personality has gone out the window. I've become a hermit. The most contact I have is with the pizza delivery staff. I realize that's horrible to admit. I've gained weight -- too much, to the tune of 25 pounds. For some, that might not mean much but when you are short and petite, it makes you look pregnant. Not pretty. My exercise level is relatively non-existent. I sleep too much. About a year ago, I was tested for pre-menopause and found to be just fine. That's not good news. It means that I have to look inward for the reasons of weight gain. Worse yet, I'm single. Oh, and let's not forget the losses that I have endured: my dad died four years ago. I had just returned home to be closer to my sick family. I came back alone without anything: no husband (we were filing for divorce; he didn't want a wife anymore), no kids -- one was in college and the other decided to live with his birth father-- and no job. I struggled getting a job. I moved into an apartment after owning homes for most of my life. Everything was a new transition. I joined online dating. Another huge adjustment. I had no idea so many could not tell the truth. I worked in a field based on the facts!
Fast forward. I have been blessed and I realize it. I am now a homeowner and am stable financially. I thank God. I have an incredible son who is excelling and becoming a stellar young man. I support him. I did not do well in marrying a provider; I support my son. I have adapted as best as I can to being a parent long-distance. We talk and see each other frequently. I love him very much.
My daughter (step, although I never called her such) is a grown young lady on her own now. I love her too & wish her the best. Her dad, my former husband, has re-married. It's fine; I no longer have feelings for him. Our marriage had been over before I left the state.
I hope the kids don't know about my depression. I always wanted to be a good role model for them. I tried to provide the best for them and never show any warning signs around them. I wanted them to have a great childhood. I believe they both would say they did. Guess you always wonder.
I'll stop rambling. Problem at hand: it's 5 p.m. and I'm still in bathrobe. Very common these days. I beat myself up for it. I know better. It's not exactly the sign of an educated professional. I put off all responsibilities till as long as possible, preferring to use my house as a safe haven against contact with anyone. It's sad. Very sad. I watch television, primarily movies, throughout the day. I read. When I have work to do, I get it done. I have managed to keep the house maintained and clean. I like a neat house. Imagine. I dread buying groceries and wait till I absolutely can't make it any longer. Many times, I use a Walgreens or CVS as a substitute because it's right down the street and I can hurry back home. Hurry back to what?
I don't have any family living anywhere near. I've made no effort to form friendships. I'm probably not a very good friend, frankly. I'm not dependable. The impending action is I need to get a new job. Provide for my son. His dad cannot be counted on for anything.....including insurance. I, regretably, was notified by the state that his father did not have health insurance on him in the fall. Lack of paperwork made it impossible for me to add him at my place of employment. So, I need to get a new employer with much better benefits anyway and add my son, thus taking his dad out of the picture. I've learned it's best that way.
Anyway, there's the story. I'm disgusted by my lack of motivation. I know what I need to do and yet I've accomplished nothing. I am perfectly competent and this depression is ruining everything. I did make one smart move, make that two: I ended all online dating profiles. That was driving me insane. I'm not in a position to date. I'm too honest and most simply want to use people. And, I wrote this journal and joined this support group today. My job doesn't help matters. Yes, my personality tends to be Type A and perfectionistic. It comes with the territory. Thanks for listening and reading.
I'm a writer. And yet, writing about the depression I've endured over the decades is unfathomable. It's happening today. In fact, I started a journal waslast night. A first -- after years of therapist friends suggesting it. I was always so scared of what I would write. Then, I really feared what it might feel like reading it after the fact. (I have not read last night's journal entry. I don't plan to either.)
I remind myself of the plumber who does a great job while working during the day and then goes home to a leaky faucet or a broken toilet. As a professional journalist, I go home to an unfinished resume, an empty journal, or a Facebook page that hasn't had a post in years. I don't want others to know my thoughts -- not the real ones at least.
I'm struggling now. This times, it's been going on for too long. I work at a job that allows extreme flexibility and realistically isn't even full-time. I'm on salary as an editor, but I'm under stress to find another. Working from home has only hurt the depression. I've moved to a new area within the last year or so and my usual outgoing personality has gone out the window. I've become a hermit. The most contact I have is with the pizza delivery staff. I realize that's horrible to admit. I've gained weight -- too much, to the tune of 25 pounds. For some, that might not mean much but when you are short and petite, it makes you look pregnant. Not pretty. My exercise level is relatively non-existent. I sleep too much. About a year ago, I was tested for pre-menopause and found to be just fine. That's not good news. It means that I have to look inward for the reasons of weight gain. Worse yet, I'm single. Oh, and let's not forget the losses that I have endured: my dad died four years ago. I had just returned home to be closer to my sick family. I came back alone without anything: no husband (we were filing for divorce; he didn't want a wife anymore), no kids -- one was in college and the other decided to live with his birth father-- and no job. I struggled getting a job. I moved into an apartment after owning homes for most of my life. Everything was a new transition. I joined online dating. Another huge adjustment. I had no idea so many could not tell the truth. I worked in a field based on the facts!
Fast forward. I have been blessed and I realize it. I am now a homeowner and am stable financially. I thank God. I have an incredible son who is excelling and becoming a stellar young man. I support him. I did not do well in marrying a provider; I support my son. I have adapted as best as I can to being a parent long-distance. We talk and see each other frequently. I love him very much.
My daughter (step, although I never called her such) is a grown young lady on her own now. I love her too & wish her the best. Her dad, my former husband, has re-married. It's fine; I no longer have feelings for him. Our marriage had been over before I left the state.
I hope the kids don't know about my depression. I always wanted to be a good role model for them. I tried to provide the best for them and never show any warning signs around them. I wanted them to have a great childhood. I believe they both would say they did. Guess you always wonder.
I'll stop rambling. Problem at hand: it's 5 p.m. and I'm still in bathrobe. Very common these days. I beat myself up for it. I know better. It's not exactly the sign of an educated professional. I put off all responsibilities till as long as possible, preferring to use my house as a safe haven against contact with anyone. It's sad. Very sad. I watch television, primarily movies, throughout the day. I read. When I have work to do, I get it done. I have managed to keep the house maintained and clean. I like a neat house. Imagine. I dread buying groceries and wait till I absolutely can't make it any longer. Many times, I use a Walgreens or CVS as a substitute because it's right down the street and I can hurry back home. Hurry back to what?
I don't have any family living anywhere near. I've made no effort to form friendships. I'm probably not a very good friend, frankly. I'm not dependable. The impending action is I need to get a new job. Provide for my son. His dad cannot be counted on for anything.....including insurance. I, regretably, was notified by the state that his father did not have health insurance on him in the fall. Lack of paperwork made it impossible for me to add him at my place of employment. So, I need to get a new employer with much better benefits anyway and add my son, thus taking his dad out of the picture. I've learned it's best that way.
Anyway, there's the story. I'm disgusted by my lack of motivation. I know what I need to do and yet I've accomplished nothing. I am perfectly competent and this depression is ruining everything. I did make one smart move, make that two: I ended all online dating profiles. That was driving me insane. I'm not in a position to date. I'm too honest and most simply want to use people. And, I wrote this journal and joined this support group today. My job doesn't help matters. Yes, my personality tends to be Type A and perfectionistic. It comes with the territory. Thanks for listening and reading.
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