Not again.

Well, I thought the best way to handle this latest round of moderate depression was to just ignore it. Because, as I'm told over and over, what you believe is what is. If I believe I'm not depressed, don't give it attention, I won't be depressed anymore. 

Unfortunately pretending to not be depressed has resulted in feeling a lot of shame for feeling depressed and being unable to face even my very favorite friends. 

It's been a not-so-lovely place to be. The frustrating part is how I really don't have anything to be upset about. I'm no dummy, I know short of winning the lottery I am pretty lucky. I have a very nice life. A life that almost anyone would be endlessly blessed to have. 

Maybe minus the incredible urinating cat. (Yes! We're still being held prisoner by urine!)

And yet for the last 4-6 weeks I've been laying in bed waiting for the evening to come so the kids and Logan would be home letting me pretend I'm normal. 

Logan is convinced that I do this, it's a pattern. I start to go through changes in my life, good changes, new things, personality break throughs....and something inside of me panics and sends me hurtling into a depression.

I think this has some credence given that the depression got almost unbearable recently. Unbearable in the "Check Into The Hospital - I'm Only Alive Because Max Would Be Devastated If I Didn't Exist Anymore" kind of way. 

This set of really awful thoughts started after I visited Texas, came home very relaxed and very encouraged that maybe I could go back to "normal" again. Then, when I sat down to work on the goals my Life Coach and I started to discuss, it's as if the smallish-damaged child Melissa who still lives deep within the grains of my entire self started to have a temper tantrum.

I don't feel like I'm back to 100%. There are moments of great panic and I spend a lot of time not realizing I'm gritting my teeth and that awful pain in between my eyes is from me staring off into space wondering what comes next.  

I'm trying to breathe, to remember that letting go of who I am is allowing who I am supposed to be to come forward. 

In the meantime school ended on Friday and I'm hopeful this summer with the kids will be good for all of us. This summer my time is my own without any freelance clients depending on me to maintain the same working schedule I had while the kids were in school full time. Except that in the summer they're home pretty much full time and terribly resistant to day camps. Babysitters often make more than I did in a month, making them troublesome to, you know, pay. 

This year I'm home with the kids with nothing but time to fill and luckily we like more of the same activities and they're pretty good company with minimal whining and almost none of the tasks that made parenting young kids so physically demanding and intellectually un-stimulating.

I'm planning on lots of friends, days at the pool, movies, parties and maybe a few craft projects. Most of all it's been nice not being alone all day allowing my brain to pummel me with anxious thoughts and faulty logic leading me to hate myself. 

It's hard to hate yourself with a kid like Max around. It's easier to hate yourself around Maddie but that's just her age...at least I hope so. 

I've also got a second interview for a full time job out of the house. I'll admit, the whole thought of that gives me some anxiety, but I am working very hard to prepare and not worry. So far, with a couple of weeks until the big day, that's going pretty well. 

Talk to me the morning of the interview and I'm sure this will no longer be true.