I think it’s finally time to admit that the passed two years have taken a toll on my psyche. I’ve told myself that I’m not depressed. Depression is what happens to other people. What do I have to be depressed about? I have a beautiful toddler. I have a great relationship with my older kids AND their wives. I have my first grandchild by blood and another on the way. I have three beautiful step grandkids.
I no longer freak out a bit inside when I say… my grandkids.
I get to see all of this amazing family on a semi-regular basis and cook for them! (I’m a feeder.)
I have a beautiful house, albeit one that is half way to being restored and the half that is not is driving me quite mad. But it’s the kind of house that people see in magazines – NOT because it’s worth a ton, but because it has a fasinating history. We looked at it, and it’s sister houses for ages before buying this one. And now we wake up in our dream house every morning.
I have been traveling and have THREE fun trips on the horizon, one to Disneyland (ok, when DON’T I have a drip to Disney on the horizon?) One to BlogHer in NYC, and one to Florida for a wedding in September, which is near Walt Disney World and I have been promised a day there. Maybe two.
OK. Probably just one but a girl can dream.
My husband has started his own company and it seems to be doing well. After two years of unemployment, this alone should make me super, duper over the moon. Although I do miss him.
My business has been doing well. Maybe even a bit too well. I don’t always have time to see the clients that contact me and even raised my rate a bit, yet, they keep coming. I no longer see any that I don’t enjoy. For a sex worker – this is the pinnacle of success.
For an old sex worker too fat to fit into her corsets and leathers, this is a fucking miracle.
But still… I don’t feel right. I feel weepy one minute. Angry the next. I snap for no reason. Everyone annoys me, possibly because they are all freakin’ idiots. Then I’m sad again. I haven’t been able to write on my blog. I’ve lost my interest in social media. I would rather sleep then have sex or watch TV. Last night my husband made a joke about giving the dog a hand job to relieve his anxiety over the neighbors dog being in heat and I barely chuckled.
That folks, is a proof positive that something is wrong.
Yesterday after seeing my Dr for a sore neck, as he’s leaving the room I tossed in… “oh yes, and my husband would like me to talk to you about my depression.” This was punctuated by Monkey flying off the medical exam table onto my back and trying to scramble onto my head while making wild monkey sounds.
I’m not sure which surprised me more. The words that came out of my mouth, or the 30 pound toddler suddenly landing on my shoulders and using my eye sockets as finger holds.
The Dr didn’t have time to talk yesterday, but I’m going in this afternoon to discuss. Wish me luck.
Have you ever taken antidepressants? When did you decide you needed them? Did they help? What side effects did you have?