Usually I'm one of those people who try and pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. But between the stresses of this move and adjusting to staying at home full time, and and and... I've let my antidepressant prescription run out.
I know I should take better care of myself, I know. But I'm also a classic depressive in the sense that I'm horribly neglectful when it comes to taking my medicine. I feel better for a while, and then it just falls by the wayside. Being unmedicated and depressed is exactly like riding a rollercoaster. You get a nice high before a sickening, nauseating plunge. So a trip to the clinic on base is in order. Until then, feel sorry for my hubby! Crying women are a Marine's kryptonite.
Sometimes being a mom makes it so, SO hard to put yourself first. I spend day after day putting the Kid and the Hubby on the top of my to-do list. Most of the time the things that I need (need, not want!) fall through the cracks. I feel especially guilty when I have to buy new clothes, underwear, or (God forbid) shoes. It's not like I'm buying designer labels, it's Walmart or Tarjay for goodness sakes! All I can see as I walk through the store is how much food such and such a thing could buy me, how the Kid or the Hubby really needs this thing or that.
So if I can't even stomach buying clothes for myself, it's easy to reason away the need to take the time for a doctor's appointment. I just have to keep repeating my mantra "If you love your child you will take care of her mother, if you love your child you will take care of her mother..."
3 comments:
Wow, we're mirroring each others lives. I wrote a post on that. I bought a pair of $23 heels at work from Targét and bawled the whole way home.
And yeah, the whole buy one bra thing...I buy one bra until it dies and then I talk myself up to buy a new one. I know I should get a few but when I look at the reciept I damn near faint.
Besides, at least here, the Vickies women are such bitches. You know, the size 00, Paris Hilton wannabes saying "I'm like so fat." Bitch, please. Talk to me after you've had a kid, you stil look pregnant, and you've got stretch marks.
Oh man that comic was sooo me. Bryan not so much since this is his third trip down Baby Dictator Lane. She makes one noise and I'm running, full speed ahead to see what, (if anything), is wrong.
Yes. It's a constant battle to keep your children happy and healthy while keeping mom happy and healthy. Isla threw my last refill of Prozac out last spring and I haven't gotten a new one since. I have somehow managed to avoid my annual SAD so far, but I know better than to get too cocky. It tends to sneak up and bite me on the ass when I least expect it. Good luck, and take care of yourself.
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