Third Vent...in which I get angry about depression

When I think about it, most of my vents will probably focus (in one form or another) around how much I hate depression and what it has done to my life.  The illness has affected so many of those I love dearly, and so has intimately changed the way I live my daily life.

But today's vent is about my sister-in-law.  I love her.  She married my brother many years ago and they have children who are similar in age to my three youngest children.  We have been very close over the years.  A couple of years ago, however, she was pregnant and ended up with some very severe depression (not for the first time.)  When she gets depressed, her self-esteem plummets, and she becomes extremely sensitive.   She became angry at many problems in our extended family (none of which are major problems, just differences in how families relate) and stopped returning my calls, stopped having any kind of relationship with me.  It was like a different person came into her body.  Once her baby was born and she was back on an anti-depressant, we had a long talk and laid everything out on the table.  We have been closer than ever since then. 

Until now.

She's pregnant again, and of course is off her anti-depressant.  She has handled this challenge very well, even through extreme circumstances.  We have spent much time together and talked very frankly about her challenges.  Then on a family trip, she changed completely.  She shut down and would no longer have any communication with me.  For the last month, I have called her consistently with little or no response.  I have offered to take her children.  I have made her dinner.  I babysat her children.  I have had creative fun art time with them.  She has given me the cold shoulder.  I KNOW she's depressed.  I understand this.  I have tried to be understanding.  But she emailed me today and truly hurt me.  

That's ok.  I can handle it.  I'm going to roll with this and try to respond with love and support.  It will all work itself out, as long as I keep negative emotions out of it.  Well, as much as possible, anyway.  Enduring...breathing...surviving...

I HATE DEPRESSION.

Second Vent...in which I curse my life

Right now I just want to scream and break things.  Lots of them.  Preferably glass things that shatter loudly and other people can clean up.  

I am frustrated to no end with I don't even know what.  My children are making me INSANE today.  It is TWO O'CLOCK in the afternoon and they're STILL NOT DONE WITH THEIR MORNING WORK.  I'm not asking them to do ridiculous amounts of work.  Just the basics.  I let them take most of the day off yesterday for a really great outing.  We had a wonderful, happy, all-is-right-with-the-world time.  So why does today suck so greatly?

I'm tired of feeling guilty for everything I do and everything I don't do.  I'm tired of never getting the house clean enough, of never being on top of anything, of trying to teach my children how to work and succeed in life.  I want everyone to just leave me alone and let me sulk.  Is that too much to ask?

The straw that broke the back today:  So I've been trying to manage my massively negative feelings all day, trying to be supportive and yet firm about the expectations for today (which, oh-so-surprisingly are the SAME as every other summer day), and then I put the baby down for his nap.  I had him skip the morning nap since he's been taking these stupid piddly 30 minute naps, so I thought if I held him off until the afternoon, he'd sleep longer.  He woke up TEN MINUTES LATER.  So I thought, I'll just let him cry, like at night.  Yeah.  Whatever.  He screamed for thirty or forty minutes, so then I thought I'll take him into my bed and try to lay down with him to get him back to sleep.  Which I was trying to do when child #2 COMES INTO MY BEDROOM AND WAKES HIM UP FULLY.  At which point, the straw dropped onto my over-burdened back and lemme tell ya, the breaking wasn't pretty.

I'm a frustrated and angry mom.  Venting helped a little, but not as much as I'd hoped.  Arrgh.  I guess I have to go apologize.  But I'm not ready to.  At least I did NOT throw the hand-painted plates off of the lunch table like I wanted to.  Self-control.  Maybe it's overrated.

First Vent...in which I consider the future of Rose

So, it needs to be said that my sweet and loving husband deals with chronic and disturbingly hardcore depression and anxiety.  The illness is the worst part of our lives, by far, and has had long-reaching consequences.  Let's just say it how it is.  I HATE DEPRESSION.  I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it.

So, of course, I'm super freaked about the chance that one of our children may end up with the same trial, since depression and anxiety have genetic components.  One of our children, in particular, (we'll call her Rose) has been fairly high-strung since birth.  She is a fantastic kid, super bright and ridiculously talented at almost everything she's done in her short 8 1/2 year life.   But boy, she is a bundle of nerves.  She has been complaining about headaches and stomachaches consistently for the last year, and I've noticed that they seem to come more frequently when she is overwhelmed or the stress level in our house is higher.  Hmmm...anxiety-related, perhaps?  She has quit some things at which she was very talented, and wants to withdraw even further.  She's even started begging to be homeschooled in the fall, and yet she LOVED her last year of school and has many many friends.  I could go on, but I won't.

  

I took her to the doctor about her headaches today, and the doctor's diagnosis was that they are likely stress-related.  Knowing our family's history, she recommends highly that we take our sweetheart to a child psychologist.  That is exactly what I expected, and was grateful to get a referral to someone who might be a great fit for Rose.  But of course, Rose hates the idea of it.  To her, it's one more thing that will make her different than everyone else.  It will take some convincing.

Of course, I have jumped to the conclusion that Rose will be dealing with this trauma all her life, that it will devastate her and make her unable to have a healthy and fulfilling adulthood.  I know this is unhealthy.  Duh.  I just worry a lot.  (Hence, a need for an anonymous blog.  If I were completely well-adjusted, I wouldn't need this.)

I think with the right help, we will both be happier and better-adjusted.  Here's hoping we're on the path to something more positive.