I enjoy Facebook’s feature that collects your past posts from previous years and lets you go through them. It is interesting to see what things happen over and over on the same day (or near it) every year. Apparently, last year I was also struggling with depression this week, but I had a much better attitude about it. I thought that maybe I was ‘cured’ of my mood swings because I had reached a point where I could no longer allow them to take over my life completely.
I was wrong.
This past year has been interesting for me. Yet again my depression morphed into something new that I had not experienced before. Instead of slow-burning episodes of depression, I was having very strong anxiety right before my period every month. Not PMS. Beyond PMS. PMDD? Possibly, but I couldn’t find a doctor here who believed that was a real thing so I could not get the resolution of a diagnosis nor any sort of help. And, for the first time in my life, I wanted help. Some days were terrifying and I did not think that I would make it through. The anxiety grew into anger. It bubbled beneath my skin and I felt like my blood was boiling. The intensity of these emotions- emotions I do not usually have, even in weak variations- was crippling some days.
Then, I got treated for an infection in my filopian tubes and -just like that- the major monthly mood swings were gone. I didn’t want to be overly optimistic, but the relief I felt to be free of this cycling was immense.
Then, this past period, it came back. The anxiety was not as intense, but the depression knocked me on my butt – completely and in a way that I have not experienced since I gave birth. Mostly because, just as a wrote a year ago, I had no option to completely check out. My responsibility had pretty much given me no option to outlet those feelings.
This past week I seriously checked out. I gave up. Completely. I laid in bed for 2-3 days. I told Nikola that he had to take Peatuk to yasla and pick him up on his own. I was determined to not get out of bed. It was the biggest check-out that I have had since I got married and had Peatuk and, underneath the absolute misery that comes with depression, it felt FANTASTIC.
Marriage is about trust, and I just learned such an important aspect of trust this past week. I don’t have to keep all of my balls balanced all of the time. I can let them fall and, even though it is not easy nor fun, Nikola is able to manage the things that I take on as a wife and mother.
At the end of the week I even got to go out and have adult conversations and flirtations during one of my rare “going out without the kids” nights. (Which, apparently for mothers, is what по женски means…)
So, every year it is the same. How I handle it- my support and my ability to cope- changes, but every year I continue to feel the ebb and flow of pressure and the never-ending existential depression. The life of a romantic, I suppose.