I’ve been absent for awhile, and the reason is simple. When depression creeps in, my creative expression is the first thing to go. Sitting down and writing is the last thing I feel like doing, even though I know it would help me cope in the long run. Even though I know that I’m not alone in feeling this way, depression is isolating and lonely. In a room surrounded by friends and family at Christmas time, or even with both of my kids on my lap, I can feel secluded, out of touch and completely alone. Depression isolates.

I can’t seem to find any motivation to get going, to do anything. And then the less I do, the worse I feel about my ability to be a stay at home mom. The thought of eight more months of maternity leave, stretching out in front of me is horrifying. How am I going to keep my toddler occupied? How am I going to make sure that the baby gets the stimulation and interaction that he needs? Then I start feeling like a terrible mother, a terrible person. Who does that? Who wishes away time at home with their kids? Only someone awful; and I start believing that I really am a horrible person. Because depression lies.

On days when things are really bad, I dream about running away. I would pack a bag and just slip away into the night. I’d find a hotel somewhere, cozy up in a bed all by myself, and just read books, drink tea, color, and sleep for days on end. And then an incredible sense of guilt hits me again; who AM I? What kind of thoughts are these to have? I can’t run away from adulthood, and I’m a horrible person for even thinking things like that. All at once, I am overwhelmed by grief, by panic, by guilt, by pressure, and I can’t get out of my own head.

My time alone is never enough, but I find myself thinking about the kids and what they are doing when I’m not with them. There are a million things to do around the house, and I notice them all, but I can’t seem to get up and get any of them done. I have activities planned and ideas pinned for fun, exciting things to do with my toddler, and yet as each morning dawns, the struggle to shut off the TV and DO something becomes less and less appealing. I’m losing the will to fight for any of it.

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My doctors say the medication will start making a difference soon. We’ve already switched to a new antidepressant, and I doubled my dose last week. It’s hard to be your best self when you don’t feel like yourself at all.

So I keep praying, keep pushing, keep reaching out to people for help and support. And I know that soon, I’ll be back to ‘normal,’ and my kids will have the mother they deserve again. Because though depression puts up a hell of a fight, I’m not going to allow it to win.