I so understand about dealing with depression. I have dealt with it most of my life. When I was diagnosed, instead of saying "Why me?" the first thing that rang in my mind was "It figures!" It is hard to strike a balance between being so into yourself and healing (or just dealing) and not always being able to be available to your family. Like HeatherZ, I have two young children. I often wonder how this illness and associated problems, (physical & mental), are effecting them. I have not plunged into a deep depression in years (even the CML dx didn't push me that far into the deep, dark hole). However, I lost it yesterday. It was even before I received the call about my pap smear coming back with a little dysplasia (more or less, abnormal). But more on that later. It could be nothing. And it is nothing until it is something, right? But after such a bad day, I let out a wail. I had been holding it back for hours. I had to bring the kids with me to an oral pathologist and they sat on the floor at the foot of the dentist's chair eating candy while the doctor looked at my gaping mouth sores--I really believe if I wasn't sick, I could do a better job of keeping them away from sweets, but it is often, "If you sit quietly and behave, I will give you a sucker."). I have had to drag them with me to so many unpleasant things. They have seen me get shots, give myself shots, get my blood drawn, they pretend they have terrible mouth sores when I am afflicted, they have seen my eye fill with blood, etc. Many times I can find someone to watch them, but often I have to run last minute (problems that arise from this illness are not always conveniently timed) and I have to bring them. So, when Heather mentioned her kids and sharing a drink, it got me thinking. After my son and daughter tried to make me feel better by comedy and forcing me to lie down with a stuffed duck (my 2 year old is always the doctor--but I have to talk to her about her bedside manner), so, when I got under control, about 10 min. later, my son let out a similar wail. It was different than his usual toddler whining. The cry seemed so deep and soulful. And I know this is effecting them, but they are too young to understand at 2 and 4. I have wondered when I should seek some help for my son. Perhaps now is the time. Especially, since there is a bit of static in the air over the biopsy I need to have in April (uggggh, not another cancer!). It is difficult to hide the tension and sadness. No. It is impossible. I think the reality of the situation is that my kids will have to deal with the cognizance of suffering a little earlier than most children. As a mother, it is my greatest agony I cannot protect them from that. But I pray they become better humans as a result. I grew up in poverty in an extremely abusive household (both verbally and physically--i.e. the police came a couple of times). I had a parent who was chronically ill most of my childhood and died fairly young. Although a little depressed, I think I am not such a horrible human despite all that. I guess I have to just trust whatever will be and let go (now I think I understand why people say, "Let go and let God." I confess. I always thought it was a goofy phrase, but I think I get it). As a friend made clear to me, we have very little control over things that happen in our lives. It has been very hard to embrace this. Reality is a bitter pill to swallow. And maybe the kids will be alright.
I wish everyone more relief and more happiness,
Teds
