Days like today make me realize that Seasonal Affective Disorder isn’t cured when the sun comes out.? Ok, it kind of is, but not so much.? The sun lulls me into a false sense of security that everything is fine and I won’t have the bouts of woe is me and I don’t want to get out of the bed and ohhh, those sweats look comfy.? Then the rain starts and the grey sky weighs on me like a ton of bricks and my that last bottle of Russian Vodka looks mighty inviting.? That isn’t to say that I solve my depressive bouts with liquor.? I save that for January.
We haven’t had true rain here in over a week and today was a bit on the damp side.? I’ll look at this post come Friday when it is supposed to be 90 degrees and think I was a total jackass for writing about this.? I hate writing about depression.? I think that is because I held is so private for so long I am having a hard time letting the outside world in.
There is a shame associated with depression.? It’s an inner pain or disability, as it were, that isn’t so readily noticeable.? Somewhat like infertility.? It’s not like we go around with a giant red D or I emblazoned on our chests or anything.? And it seems more that depression and infertility go hand and hand.? How can it not.? Doctors tell us over and over that our bodies have failed us.? Failed.? Like we did something wrong.
This morning some of the mothers at preschool were talking about one of the teachers who happens to be pregnant.? Ironically this is my son’s teacher.? A teacher who replaced a teacher currently on maternity leave.? The women were saying they didn’t want any of what those teachers were drinking.? Something about what’s in the water at the preschool.? It was everything I could do not to slink down the stairs into my office and bawl my eyes out.
The teachers are sensitive to me.? They know.? The mothers are not.? They don’t.
So add a rainy day, seemingly harmless remarks and the realization that if an attempt at TTC doesn’t work my child will probably end up an only.? I will be the mother to one.? I’ve always wanted more than one.
Coming up later this week:
Elle can’t stand the rain and makes cookies.? See what happens when her body goes into gluten overload.
It’s supposed to be 90 on Friday.? Elle’s body doesn’t produce sweat properly.? See what happens when she spontaneously combusts solving the aforementioned depression issue.