This weekend was rough for me. It actually started on my birthday, 5/30. I got news that my grandma, who is out in California is not doing very well. It hit me really hard. My depression gets deep, dark and very very real. So real, I still have a hospital to remind me of it.
When I was younger, my grandma called me her “little angel” and you can ask any family member, I could do no wrong. I’m sure it was annoying to everyone else, but I loved that my grandma loved me so much.
I have always battled with depression and anxiety. But over the years, I decided to quit acknowledging the depression part. I told myself, because I am a mother, I can’t be depressed. I have a beautiful son who I should be so thankful for that I have no right to feel depressed. I’ve gone to a few doctor’s appointments in which I talk about my anxiety and my migraines, but I never acknowledge my depression. I’m scared too. I don’t want to admit that despite everything I have to be grateful for, I still feel overwhelming sad sometimes. I still put headphones in and jog around feeling like I have nowhere to escape.
I think my problem is I’m too worried about other people. I’m too worried about what taking care of myself means for other people. The actions I need to take are going to inconvenience other people. But, I’m tired of feeling tired and sad when I’m playing with Luca. Those moments with Luca are precious to me and I should not be compromising those moments for anyone.
I need to start making myself a priority. I need to schedule doctor’s appointments and keep them. Schedule a yoga class and not cancel it. Get coffee with a friend and not feel guilty. Go to Target alone so I can enjoy picking up all the pretty things I’m not actually going to buy while drinking my iced coffee, without chasing a toddler up and down the aisles and ultimately walking out the door exhausted with another fire truck.