Look. This blog is completely self-centered and self-serving. Poor Joanna. Joanna feels sad; Joanna feels mad; Joanna feels apathetic; Joanna feels frustrated... Joanna... Aaaaaaaa!
I don't write to check myself, let's be honest. I'd like to think so... I'd like to think I think about things before I do them, particularly when they may hurt me emotionally. I don't think so much about that.
I don't write to help other people suffering from PMDD and depression. I just write all my thoughts and my feelings, ones I want someone to hear, and it's not entertaining or interesting to read. It's just ramblings about how depressed I am. And I know no one reads it at all. I think the only reason this site gets hits is because google image search might bring someone to a picture I used in one of my blog posts. Oh, wow. Listen to me. Poor me and my blog: Talking about myself again. Shut up! I want to shut up. I really do.
I want to shut the Hell up and leave people alone who don't want to talk to me and make myself better so I stop hurting the people who do. I don't blame people for not believing in me. I don't believe in myself. When I give up and stay in bed all day, isn't that selfish? It's so fucking selfish. I have responsibilities. I have children. I chose to have children. I have a husband. I chose to have a husband. Living as a human being means responsibility to others... To the others, we affect. To the ones who love us. To the ones we love. We have to do what they need and what they want. We have to.
When I don't give loved ones the attention they need, because I am too wrapped up in my own head, isn't that selfish? Focusing on something that will only ever be a sinkhole, sucking me lower... Didn't I let myself slip further into the abyss of depression? I did. I should be focusing on my children, thinking about them, and them only, if I don't have much left in me. They should get me. They should get what I've got left.
I emptied my email-box today. I trashed messages, hundreds of them, written for my benefit, because I wanted a response because I was sad and wanted attention. And I spent that time writing those messages instead of spending that time with my children. I wrote messages, grasping for attention when my children need attention. They actually ask for it. They want it. They need their mommy.
I am so numb, and I know it's not right. I know it's not right, to feel so little. I'm scared that these years of looking for a successful treatment for PMDD and depression, have only led to this: At this moment I would like to disappear... just not exist. I'm so numb, I don't care if I move, or think, or do anything. I'm somebody that I used to know. I feel empty. I am empty. I am sitting at the bottom of the well, hiding my head in my knees from my own children. I hide from the people I love the most. I block out the people I love the most. I don't know why.
The Joanna I used to know never wanted to be selfish. She only ever wanted to give to others, and help other people. You know what breaks my heart? When I was 22, I was a new teacher, and I had so much energy and life. My little students, second graders, came to my wedding, and I danced with them all night. My babies are making little movies on their iPad right now. I used to make elaborate iMovies with my students, up until I had my own children. Why did I wait until I was 27 to get pregnant? Why did I wait? I needed to have that energy and life and not PMDD and this deeper depression that I sank into. What is happening to me? Why is this happening? My children deserve better. My children deserve a mother. I'm a poor excuse for one.
I remember when I only wanted to make other people happy. That made me happy. That made me happy.
And now I don't care if I'm happy, and I can't even imagine how I could be of any use to anybody. I'm uncomfortable being selfish... Yet I lay in bed and live in my own head, and feel terrible: and I've settled into that feeling... I've let it happen, and that makes me the most selfish person I know.
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