depressed

I couldn't blog last night. I was too depressed. Really.

I know the feeling of depression. There was a time in my life that I was clinically depressed. My official diagnosis was severe episodic depression. Or something like that. I lived with it for a while. And it got worse... and worse... and worse. Until is desperation I finally ended up in therapy. I have never been opposed to therapy. As a matter of fact I am pretty sure everybody good use some time with a good therapist. I signed up for therapy. But my therapist didn't think she was going to be enough for me. She immediately gave me a referral to see a psychiatrist for possible medication.

I went to the psychiatrist's office determine that I did not need meds. It didn't matter that I couldn't make it through the day without breaking down. I didn't need meds. I was strong enough to get through this without the crutch of meds. And I walked out of the psychiatrist's office with a prescription. Prozac. Small dose. He promised me I wouldn't be on it long. And I counted on it.

Prozac takes some time to build up in the body. So it wasn't like a popped a pill and I felt fine. Actually for the first week I didn't really feel anything different. Maybe more hopeful but still depressed. The second week on the meds I got angry and agitated. Seriously. Everything pissed me off. I think I experienced my first road rage that week. At a school bus driver - who was doing exactly what she was suppose to be doing. People breathed wrong and I got angry.

I was just beginning hoping the meds would help a little. And by the end of the week I was sure it wasn't going to work. I was sure the meds needed to end. But my psychiatrist and therapist asked me to see it through. So I stuck with it. Please understand that I was not suicidal at any time. I was depressed. I wanted to feel better. I wanted the pain to stop. But I did not ever want to end it all.

The meds kicked in on a Sunday. Easter Sunday. I felt it kick in. And I relaxed. Everyone saw it kick in. I was having dinner with a friend and her family and she was worried I wouldn't make it through the meal. But the meds kicked in and everything was fine. It is not suppose to happen like that. But it did. As soon as it kicked in my psychiatrist began talking to me about going off the meds. No, he wasn't trying to be cruel. It is a short term med. He was preparing me. But I told him there was no way he was taking it away from me.

I did the therapy. I took the meds. I made changes in my life. I got better. And about a year and a half later I went off the meds. I was on much longer then anticipated, and much longer then my psychiatrist wanted. But it worked. And when I went off, I was fine.

But I have never forgotten that feeling. When I am making major changes in my life -- like moving, changing jobs, and becoming a mom -- I am hyper-vigilant about my emotional state. It has been nearly 15 years since I had that depression. But I would know that feeling again in a heart beat. I will never forget it.

I was depressed last night and it paralyzed me to function in a way I normally do. But it was not a true depression. I just felt so much doubt at my ability to be a good mom.

My sweet Ladybug had a bad day at school. She pushed a boy in her class. She didn't care he was a boy. She is not timid. She actually got sent down to the principal's office this time. And a report was put in her school file. "Aggressive behavior towards other student." Great! Lovely. What have I done wrong? How did she learn that was acceptable. They categorized it as a minor offense, meaning she was sent back to class and I did not get a phone call. When I talked to her about it she refused any responsibility. She swore it was his fault. I didn't buy it. I asked her to draw a picture of apology for the boy. She didn't want to. I gave her a piece of paper. She crumpled it up and threw it on the floor. I refused to give in. She cried. I was calm. Eventually she got another piece of paper and did the picture. But she was not happy about it.

But that wasn't the whole day. Later in the day she got caught again. This time it wasn't physical. Kind of. Apparently another child -- a girl this time -- upset her. So she gave her a dirty look and stuck out her tongue. The teacher saw it. At least there was no trip to the principal's office this time. I asked her about it. She denied it. I asked her to explain. She swore that she stuck her tongue out at the wall... because she didn't like the color. Seriously. She told me that. And she expected me to believe it. .... I didn't. We were at dinner when I was trying to talk to her about it. She turned her back on me. Literally. I asked her to face me. She did. She crossed her arms across her chest and gave me a dirty look. So I sent her to bed.

And I felt depressed. I questioned my ability to be a good mother. I don't know what I am doing wrong. But I feel like I am doing something wrong. I must be. Why is she so angry? So defiant? So prone to fighting? I mean, she isn't even a teenager and she is acting like this. How will she act in 10 years? How can I change it? What do I need to do to help her. It makes me sad to feel so lost about how to raise my child.

But I snapped out of it. She had a good day today. She clung to me at bed time tonight. And I hold my breath waiting for the next time she decides not to play by the rules.

Mean Mama
PS - 7.2 down, 117 to go.