Ok. Here goes.

I wanted to hug Bug’s therapist today when he said this:

“Parenting a child with special needs is like parenting 3 “normal” children. You basically are parenting 12 children right now.”

I am having a very hard time right now. I know you all know about the issues Bug has, but the other three kids all have issues themselves. Major food issues. Major developmental delays. Major oppositional defiant behavior from Butterfly.

I am constantly working on the house. Or laundry. At least one person pees their bed every night. Sometimes three people.

Therapists are coming to the house three times this week. It is so hard to keep things clean. The toilet broke. The trash needs to be taken to the dumpster. The girls have ransacked the pantry.

I am constantly working to get services set up for the little ones. I finally got things arranged for both little ones this week. I guess I could just say, “Screw It” and let them continue to be developmentally delayed, EXCEPT I CAN NOT. Because I give a damn.

Butterfly’s teacher was waiting for me when I got to school. Bug had Saturday school. Etc. Etc. Etc.

Do you know how exhausting it is have to carefully manuever a child in and out of a carseat while ensuring the container of puffs do not leave their hand for one second because they will scream so loud that everyone in the parking lot will stop to look at you?

It seems stupid but it all adds up. I won’t even go into the visits and the stuff going on behind the scenes with that, but it is ridiculous.

And the main problem is I beat myself up. Yes, I know, I have four special needs children as a single mom. Yes, I know, I was just starting to get treated for ADD.

But if I don’t get my work done, or the laundry done, or the house doesn’t look great, or whatever, I feel horrible. I feel like a failure. A horrible mom. A piece of crap.

And when the alarm goes off in the morning, I want to hide under the bed. This morning I seriously considered letting Bug be late for school so I could sleep in.

Seriously. That is lame.

I keep trying to get myself calmed down. I try to take it to heart when the SW asks how old I am, and I tell him and he says, “Wow. You do such an excellent job.”

I am lacking in adult conversation. I find myself venting to Bug’s therapist, and the daycare worker. I’m looking forward to the people coming to the house to evaluate the babies because it will be someone to talk to whose vocabulary is greater than 10 words.

Intellectually, I know that I am doing a good job. I know that parenting these children is very difficult. I know that parenting four children at all is difficult, but the issues these children have make it much more challenging. I know that I am advocating for them, I am keeping a sanitary home, everyone has clean clothes to wear.

I know that I have people out there that listen to me and care about me, even though if I saw you on the street I wouldn’t recognize you. If you could all come over, right now, I would probably be the happiest girl alive.

But emotionally, I’m wrecked. I’m angry at myself. I’m angry at the behavior of others. I’m worried that the kids will leave. I’m worried that the kids will stay. I am frustrated that others do not see what a struggle it is. I’m tired. I miss working while watching Grey’s Anatomy. I miss TV. (I’m so getting TV installed when I get my tax refund. If I have to watch the same DVD one more time, I might explode.) I miss my mom. I miss getting into the van without having to buckle up three booster seats.

I’m tired. I’m lonely. I feel like I’m not good enough.

My heart and my mind tell me very different things. I know I am doing a good job, but in my heart, I have issues with that.

Ok, so I have vented. There is more I could vent about, but everyone went to bed and I want to shower. And take some more ibuprofen for my horrible cramps.

I have hired a girl to come to the house 15 hours a week. She says she is starting tomorrow. She is willing to just help me out..cleaning, laundry, watching the baby, going to the store. I will give it a try and see if it helps. She is not charging a lot at all, so I am willing to try it out.

Ok, this is what I mean. I just thought about deleting that because I didn’t want you to know that I was going to get help. Because I felt like it made me look weak. Like I should do it all by myself, all the time.

Sheesh.

 

Today started with frustration that I could not get my ADD treated at the VA and therefore was going to have to pay out of pocket for doctor’s visits and medicine.

It continued with a quick, but productive appointment where the doctor confirmed I had ADD and prescribed medicine.

Then came a disaster at Walgreen followed by a debaucle at Walmart which had me screaming at the Walmart lady that she needed to fill my prescription even if it was dated for tomorrow because it was just a mistake and why couldn’t she call the doctor and ended with me sobbing in the Walmart parking lot. Without my medicine.

Which was the beginning of a long sobbing spree. Which was briefly interrupted when I considered taking my van and running it head on into the train that was crossing the road I was traveling on.

And then continued to my room where all I could do was cry and cry. And I thought about posting something but then I thought that someone would comment that I was a crazy person and it was no wonder I was not getting picked for the kids that I sent my homestudy in on and I was pretty sure if I posted something, someone would call my DFS and alert them to the fact that they had licensed a crazy person.

Which made me cry more. And then I noticed that my little box over there on the right that tells my ranking on a blog site was the highest it had ever been, which isn’t a good thing as the lower the number the better. And really, it doesn’t matter because most of you probably have never seen that little box as you are probably reading this through google or bloglines or something. And really, it doesn’t mean anything. But somehow, that little box showing a number in the 50s devastated me, which made me cry more.

And then I tried to explain myself to Geo, which was hard because I was trying to articulate how I felt when I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt. I knew I was angry..angry that I had spent so many years not being diagnosed with what was wrong with me. I was afraid that this wouldn’t work. That this medicine wouldn’t work and I wouldn’t feel better. That I was stressed by this matching/waiting process going on with the adoptions and that each time they didn’t choose me, it hurt. Really hurt.

And then Geo suggested that maybe I needed to go get a job outside the home for like thirty hours a week..and well, you can imagine how well that suggestion went over.

And let’s not forget the fact that I had horrible cramps. Awful cramps. And that while I was sobbing in the Walmart parking lot, I noticed that my jeans were wet. And when I came home I realized that I bled through my tampon, through my underwear and all over my jeans.

Finally I calmed myself down enough to go to my class, where the members of my class spent about twenty minutes making fun of adults with ADD. On a day like today, I really needed to hear that I was nuts, a pain in the butt to deal with, irresponsible and that talking to me was like talking to a brick wall. Because duh, I already know that. Thanks people.

But driving home tonight, I made up my mind that I am not going to end up flattened by a train. I am going to get up tomorrow, be at the pharmacy when it opens, get my medicine, start implementing the behavior modification techniques I have learned, and try to make it. I want to adopt more children. I want to be a good mom to Bug. I want to write a book about me and Bug and how and why you should adopt from foster care. I want to be happy.

I’m not giving up. I’m not giving up.

Tomorrow has got to be a little bit better.

Technorati Tags: ADD, depression, goals

The majority of my test results are in.

Nothing is wrong with me.

I don’t have diabetes, I don’t have liver disease, I do not have problems with my thryoid nor do I have an infection of some type.

I had a very slightly elevated albumin level. She said it just basically indicates I was slightly dehydrated, but she said it wasn’t even really relevant. Just make sure I keep up my water intake.

Right now, the tentative diagnosis is Adult ADD. It was mentioned in passing at my first appointment, but I thought that there was no way that was it because I don’t act like Bug does. Well, apparently Adult ADD and childhood ADHD/ADD have many differences. I have taken multiple screening tests now, all which indicate that this is probably the case. (In fact, one rather rudely told me to “Seek medical attention IMMEDIATELY”)

I got a list of symptoms of Adult ADD and it was like reading a (rather embarassing) book about my personality. Mom, Dad and Geo all nodded their virtual heads in agreement.

In actuality, having this tentative diagnosis has done worlds for my attitude this morning. You know, I will be the first to admit that some of the issues related to my sexual abuse are still present in my life. I am sure they will always be. But on the most part, I am very comfortable talking about it. I get emails from time to time from people who stumble on this blog and want to talk or want advice on sexual abuse. Doesn’t bother me. When my grandfather died, a large part of the issues I had died with him. The anxiety, the fear that he would kill me or my family. And while I am a little bitter that my stupid ovary issue is related to the abuse, I also feel a tremendous sense of relief that Dr. Gel said I could get knocked up.

I guess my point is..every single time I have ever tried to get help for an issue in my life in the past 10 years, as soon as they hear I am an abuse survivor they pin everything on that. Extremely short temper? Well you are harboring anger from your abuse. Can’t concentrate? It’s the depression. Tendency to bounce around from thing to thing without finishing it? Oh, well maybe you are bipolar. Low self esteem? Feeling that you are underachieving in your life? Well duh, you are an abuse survivor. You are expected to have low self esteem.

And it never really felt right to me. In fact, I had some therapist who refused to talk about anything other than my abuse. Even though sometimes I wanted to talk about my marriage. Or sometimes I wanted to talk about my relationship with Bug.

So when Dr. Lunch told me that I was probably feeling this way because I have depression and anxiety and maybe the Wellbutrin wasn’t working and maybe I needed to try Paxil, I got a little pissed.

Because I know what depressed is. I know what anxious is. And I wasn’t really either of those things. I was depressed because I felt horrible. I was depressed because I didn’t get picked for the kids. But hey, that is normal. It was just a bit of sadness. When I really took an honest look at what effects the ADs have had on me, I would say that they helped but they never fixed. They took the edge off, but they never dealt with 70% of my issues. I thought I would just have to be like that forever. I thought I would be mostly unhappy forever.

And when I really trace back this current downward trend I’ve been in, I can almost pinpoint it.

Right at the time I graduated from college, lost the structure of my classes, lost the security of my GI Bill and was suddenly my own boss and responsible for my own income.

I’ve walked around for the past month or so feeling like I am stupid and lazy. And I’m not.

Anyway, I’m waiting to hear from the doctor as to what the next step is. Of course, the VA doesn’t really specialize in adults with ADD so there is already an issue with medication and the like. I’m working on it.

But I am optimistic. For the first time in my life, I’ve seen a list of almost everything that is bad about me and somebody has said, “Hey. We can help you fix this. It is not your fault. This can be fixed.”

That is very powerful.

Technorati Tags: test results, ADD, ADHD, depression, anxiety, therapy

 

When you watch a fish tank for two hours, you notice a lot of strange things. Like the scum sucker fish..he was being followed by this big orange fish for the better part of two hours. Also, the Vet who sat next to me insisted that Ashley Judd was married to Tom Cruise. That has nothing to do with the fish tank though.

The VA kept me waiting for two hours..apparently she ”went to lunch” and moved her morning patients to the afternoon but nobody bothered to tell me so I just sat and watched the scum sucker.

At least the doctor actually did something. I had to get get seven vials of blood drawn (fun when you are terrified of needles), a urinalysis and I have to put my poop on a card and mail it in. How gross is that? Sorry. Hope you weren’t eating.

She’s testing my white blood count, my thyroid, checking for diabetes and hepatatis, plus my B12 and folic acid? And testing my..you know..to see if maybe I have colon cancer because apparently that makes you tired?  Plus some other things, I think.

She should have most of the results in tomorrow.

I have some more to write about, including my behavior program for Bug we designed at class last night….you know, the one that Bug has already shown that she doesn’t give a damn about….but I am too depressed right now.

Oh, and I have notified the school as to what happened, but frankly..the check is not obviously forged at all. With the exception of my name missing a letter, the rest of the check is perfectly filled out.

Darn Bug.

Did I mention I found half of a shriveled up LIME in her bed??

Technorati Tags: fatigue, behavior

The foster kids that I was going to get a couple weeks ago had a possibility of coming here today. I’m guessing that there is probably still a chance, but as it gets later..I figure less and less of a chance.

Being a foster parent can be tough because you have to walk a fine line between wanting children in your home and knowing what happens to get them here. Of course I would be thrilled to have those kids here but if they come, then that means that they have entered into “the system” and who knows when they will come out. So I’ve been sitting here all day, watching the clock. Wanting them to come but not wanting them too at the same time.

Meanwhile, I was planning to write a post about how Bug made her first ever basket in her game this Saturday and how she has a cold and gave it to me and how proud I am of her for being so interested in helping out St. Jude’s.

Before I did that, however, I wanted to take a quick look at my bank account to see what checks had cleared and whether my deposits had posted.

Check 2405 had and so had 2406. Not 2407, but 2408 had.

And 2421??

I flipped through my checkbook. Why would I have written 2421 if the next check was 2409? Luckily, my bank puts a scan of every check on the internet so I could pull it up.

2421 to Bug’s school?? And then I look.

My first name is missing one letter.

My last name started with a capital cursive letter, except I never write the first letter of my last name in cursive. I always write it in print and the rest of my name in cursive.

And those numbers. $20.00. Looks very similar to someone else’s handwriting.

A certain 10 year old.

Bug had taken a check out of my checkbook, written a 20 dollar check to her school and forged my signature. The school had taken it and cashed it.

Why? I mean, I had just sent in a check for lunch money a few days before.

Because my check only covers the basic lunch and breakfast and Bug wanted to buy extra drinks and extra food and extra dessert.

I haven’t had to talk about Bug taking food without permission for awhile now. She’s gotten much better. Everytime we go shopping, she picks out a selection of fruit that she is allowed to eat whenever she wants, without asking. She gets three meals a day,  a snack after school, usually dessert at night. Plus unlimited fruit.

But she can’t take things without asking, like the three packages of cookies she ate on Wednesday. She takes them into the toilet with her. Into the shower.

Now, I can see where someone would think that this was just a case of Bug not understanding that checks=real money, but Bug understands that. She also understands why it is not ok to forge checks…in fact, she will be the first to tell you that her mother went to prison for forging checks.

It is all just disappointing. She takes 5 steps forward and 4 steps back. 5 forward, 4 back. If she hasn’t been food deprived, she has unlimited fruit and drinks, plus three meals and two snacks a day…then I don’t understand why she is still having so many food issues.

I guess it’s time to make another appointment with the therapist.

Oh speaking of, I’m taking someone’s suggestion (Amanda?) and am trying to get on lexapro. I’m still having extreme amounts of exhaustion. Still don’t know if it is physical/depression/both. I’ve got an appointment tomorrow to talk to a doctor where I am going to try to get my blood tested as well as my thyroid. I have a lot of symptoms that could be attributed to my thryoid, but of course, they could be other things as well. I’m not sure what is wrong with me, but I’m still working to try to figure it out.

Technorati Tags: foster care, parenting, behavior

 

 

 

Yondalla posted another excellent post about behavior modification and why it sometimes does not work with hurt children. Or why when it works, the kid gets angry or upset.

It actually has a lot to do with what I was talking about yesterday. I am very well aware that a lot of Bug’s issues stem from a lack of consistent parenting as well as from ODD/ADHD. But I am also well aware of the fact that she has certain behaviors that are directly related to the fact that she had trauma in her childhood.

And it make sense, doesn’t it? How many of us, who have also have had trauma in our childhood, have behaviors related to that? I know I do. I know that things that I do or things that upset me or triggers I have are directly related to feelings of guilt or shame or anxiety or fear.

So if I am 28 and I’ve had 15+ years to process what happened to me, how can I expect little Buggy to not be reacting to things that happened to her?

And not that I am saying to excuse the behavior. I’m not saying that it is OK for her to do the things that she does, anymore than I think my own undesirable behaviors are OK. But they are understandable.

As parents, sometimes we simply react. We simply react to the behavior at hand and yell or punish. We don’t often think about why it is happening. Or you do, later on. For instance, when I am tired, I am impossible. I’ve been known to be sitting here working late at night and for Geo to walk in the room and ask where the milk is and for me to have an all out sobbing fest. It is just what happens to me when I get really tired. Don’t kids act the same way, when something simple is bothering them? Now imagine they’ve got things that aren’t so simple that is bothering them?

So yes, like Yondalla says..these parenting techniques are great. They can work. They can help you stay calm. And besides, we should be praising our children more. Teaching them more. Punishing less.

But they aren’t a cure. They aren’t a fix. They aren’t even really what you need to know in order to take “behavioral” foster children.

Go read what Yondalla says. This is one reason I have 300 blogs in my reader, because I learn so much from other people.

As an aside, I had a good talk with Bug yesterday. She cracks me up sometimes. I had finished talking about the teacher and all that and then I said, “Oh, by the way, you can not pour full glasses of orange juice and then leave them on the counter when you go to school. Can you give me a reason why not?”

And Bug said, “Yeah! Because it is wasteful and it is half-butted.”

Hahahaa. I love that “half-butted” is my kid’s new descriptive phrase.

I also noticed that her behavior was so much better in the afternoon because she took her medicine when she got home from school. In fact, I was downstairs and I didn’t hear her moving around. (Normally it sounds like there is an elephant upstairs.) I went upstairs and she was sitting quietly in her room, weaving a potholder.

She used to take 5 mg of Adderall when she came home from school, maybe that would help.

But we had a good night:

Talking back/Arguing: 2

Tantrums: 0

Lying: 0

And I was praising like crazy since I felt bad about yesterday. We had 7 praises and 1 criticism.

Now the real question is: How am I going to get through tonight with no Grey’s?? Considering the TIVO is on my dresser, so I’m guessing Geo won’t be TIVOing half of it for me.

Technorati Tags: behavior, foster care, abuse, Grey’s Anatomy, parenting 

You ever have one of those days where nothing awful happens, but your day is horrible nevertheless?

That’s today.

My leg has been killing me since I first told you guys about it. I’ve tried everything..ibuprofen, baths with muscle stuff in it, bengay, massage, stretching. Nothing even touches the pain. My foot hurts and the pain goes up my calf, on my knee, on my hamstring, on my butt and to my hip.

I don’t know why.

Last night it hurt so bad that Geo gave me half a percocet so I could go to sleep. Somewhere in the midst of me talking about why I didn’t like fountains (not water fountains, like big fountains)..apparently I object to algae..I started to doze off. He said, “Don’t worry, little hon, hopefully it will be better tomorrow.”

Um. No.

This morning I woke up with not only bad leg pain, but also my period. And cramps. And a sty in my eye. A STY IN MY EYE for Christ’s sake.

I also tried to find out why I haven’t gotten Bug’s new birth certificate yet, so I can get her a new social security card so I can file my taxes. And of course, nobody knows where it is. And I hate the idea of a new birth certificate anyway.

And did I mention my college has something screwed up and now the registrar is double checking my graduation??

And then I’ve been working on this project which is going awful.

The person is paying me to write reviews of a rather obscure item. Let’s stay it is chapstick, because I’m putting on chapstick right now. So they want me to write a review on chapstick, and one on chapsticks, and one on sticks used for chap lips, and one on chap (space) sticks, and one on items named chapstick.

And it is just not feasible. They want each review to be completely unique, but they want it all about the exact same product. It’s a little ridiculous, and actually it’s a lot worse than it even sounds.

I’ve been working on it for three days and finally I just snapped.

So I left to go do three things.

1. Take my movies back and get some more.

2. Get the bird some food.

3. Find out whether the Jessica Simpson product line was still on super duper sale at Walgreens and buy some.

Well, the bird part worked.

And then Bug says, “Oh DARN IT.” And I said, “What?” and she said, “I forgot the movies.”

And of course, we were already in town. And did I mention that I love in the middle of nowhere now.

(And that the Jessica Simpson stuff was mostly sold out? And that I couldn’t buy a brace for my leg because every brace had latex in them and I’m allergic to latex????)

So I decide to swing by the old house to check the mail. And in the box is a slip from UPS saying that they have a package for me. I have no idea what is in this package, but it says I can pick it up at the address in the left hand corner.

Which is in New Jersey.

Which is not where I live. Or even close.

So I call UPS who tells me that I can pick it up on so and so street.

Except there is no UPS place there. I drive around twice. Nothing.

So I call UPS back. And while I’m talking to an extremely stupid woman who calls the name of my town “Muff,” I notice that my temperature gauge has gone all the way to hot.

And smoke is coming out of my car.

And I’m stuck at a red light.

As soon as it changes, I pull into a grocery store. This isn’t one I usually shop at. Bug likes this one though, because for some reason they have live bands playing in the store. Well, live bands is a stretch. Tonight they had a 150 year old man who I was quite sure was going to die any moment. Not because of his age, mind you, but because of the wretched sounds coming out of his mouth.

So I finally get the car able to drive. I go back home. I pick up the videos. I go back into town. I find some movies. I go to Long John Silver to get Bug some food.

I want a number 1.

No you don’t.

YES I DO.

No Bug, you don’t like that.

YES I DO.

No Bug, you don’t.

YES I DO MOMMY.

Bug. It has cole slaw.

EWWW. I HATE THE NUMBER ONE.

While this fascinating conversation with my darling daughter was going on, I notice that smoke is again coming out of my vehicle.

Shh Bug. The car is smoking again.

I don’t see smoke.

Bug, be quiet.

Mommy.

Bug, be quiet.

Mommy, it’s really important.

What?

Remember last time we were here and you could get a candle? Well, can we get a candle this time?

NO BUG. Be quiet.

Finally we get our food. We get home without the car blowing up, although I was quite distracted and kept forgetting to turn off my brights.

So if I blinded you today with my high beams, I’m sorry.

Then I come downstairs to check my Outlook mail, because I can only check it on my laptop and I haven’t been doing it because I have the blog comments sent to my yahoo now because outlook is not letting me respond to emails.

And I realize that a bunch of you had emailed me, and I didn’t know it. And now you think I’m some mean bitch who won’t give you the password. When in fact, I didn’t know you had written.

Also, someone sent me an email with the subject line, “Hi Dad” but I don’t think it was any of you.

So tonight I am going to send out passwords so if by tomorrow you don’t have one, let me know. I might have missed you, and not on purpose.

Speaking of, hey! Feel free to comment. I always feel bad when I don’t get comments, which I know is stupid, but I do it anyway. So comment! Don’t lurk! Join in! Yay!

Damn. What a day.

Oh, and while I was typing this, I realized I had screwed something up and lost $30 bucks that I was going to make.

I think it is time for bed.

Technorati Tags: bad day, Long John Silvers, money, work, birth certificate

Wow! Where did all you people come from? Suddenly people were popping out from everywhere to congratulate me and it truly made my day. Thank you all.

Elswhere asked where I am going to hang my diploma..probably in the bathroom. “Maybe you could learn to like me too sir? Hang ME in the bathroom?”

Between FINALLY graduating and the BDH and all this good is happening, there is a part of me that is in disbelief. I hate the part of depression that makes you feel that even though good things are happening, something bad must be around the corner. But for right now I feel happy. I am done with college. FINALLY. I am living in this great house, and everytime I walk around I can’t believe I am this lucky. And even Geo is being great..once my final grades hit the system he came over with ice cream, M&M’s and a new blender (because I wanted a McFlurry and McD’s was closed) and a really nice office chair to replace my POS one that I’ve been complaining about forever. And a big bouquet of flowers.

I did manage to drop a bottle of BBQ sauce on my toe while I was packing and now my toe could be a stunt double for a dead body on CSI. Which might bring in some extra cash, so I’m looking into it.

Technorati Tags: depression, education, CSI

Well, if you are sitting on your computer anxiously refreshing to see if I am going to graduate (Hi Mom!) then here is the latest…

First off, how can grades not be due until Monday night? When graduation is tomorrow?? What, they let you walk and then tell you, “Just kidding!! We need our gown back please.”

So I’ve secured B’s in two classes. I’m waiting on grades in the two classes which do not keep online gradebooks (all my classes are online, so we usually get our grades back through an online gradebook.) One class is math, in which the professor told me that I have a B right now, pending the written portion of my final. (Which I think I did good on.) The other is womens studies, where my gradebook looks like the BDH right now..big and empty. I’m not quite sure why my grades in that class weren’t updated, and I have never gotten an answer from my professor. But finally she is responding to my emails where I have resent all the papers I have written (this is a no test class..all writing) and detailed forums which I didn’t have grades for, etc.

And finally, she said, “Baggage, you WILL pass this course.” (And I’m sure she muttered, “Damn insensitive kid. It is Friday night!”
(I hope she doesn’t read this blog. If so, LOVED the course. LOVE feminism. I am not weaker than a man. Frailty is a myth. I got it.)

So, I need a 2.5 GPA this semester to graduate.

Which means I either need to get a B in math and a D in WS or a C in math and a C in WS.

So I’m waiting for confirmation on either one right now.

This is tough for me, because leaving college the first time was a killer to my self-esteem, and when I went back to college I actually cried in the parking lot in my dad’s arms because I was so scared. Somehow in my mind I had equated the fact that I left college as a indictment of my intelligence, rather than a result of untreated depression and anxiety and a panic disorder.

I used to wonder why I felt somewhat intelligent, when I obviously couldn’t be because I couldn’t get my degree.

Now I’m this close, and I’m still nervous. I know this piece of paper won’t mean much..I’m not planning on changing anything in my life after I graduate.

But it will mean a lot to my mental health.

Click for Final Grades. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh.

Technorati Tags: college graduation

Despite my success with the scheduling of appointments, today has not been a good day. I’m not sure what exactly is wrong with me. My head feels FULL. I feel stressed out and anxious. There is no real reason why. I feel paralyzed to do anything, and each minute I do something other than what I am supposed to be doing, I feel panicked.

I’ve gone completely off the wellbutrin. I don’t want to be on anything like that when I’m trying for baby Eldoo. I thought I was doing ok..I had some massive withdraw headaches, but as far as the depression goes, I was doing ok. I felt happy, as witnessed by yesterday’s post.

I definitely think that seasonal affect disorder has something to do with how I feel. I’ve been diagnosed with that before. I need one of those light boxes that American Family raves about. Because seriously? At 1 am I feel wide awake. But right now (5:51 pm) I want nothing more but to go to sleep.

I even contemplated popping one of Bug’s adderall. And I didn’t. Because remember when Lynette on Desperate Housewives became addicted?? Yes, that’s me. Basing my choices on freaking Desperate Housewives. Next thing you know I’ll be burying my toolbox in the woods.

I think a combination of things are at work…one, I do have a lot of work going on. It is the last week of school before finals, I’m trying to get the foster care stuff in, I’m trying to get the damn sperm bank to understand that just because my driver’s license has another address on it, I really do live here.

I also think that it has something to do with the fact that I NEVER GO ANYWHERE. I mean, most days I leave the house just to go pick up Bug. Sometimes I go to the grocery store. But I need to go somewhere.

Geo was going to come over and do a tune up on my van, but bless his heart, he offered to come over and help me clean the house instead. If I at least had a clean bedroom, I would be less panicked. I think I’m going to see if we can go out to eat. If I got out and ate, I think I would feel better.

You know, although this post sounds pathetic, I’m proud of myself. I used to feel this way ALL the time when I was in college the first time. And I couldn’t deal with it at all, and so I did the only logical thing..I cut myself.

But I’ve reached the point of mental stability where I can tell when I’m not feeling good, and I can try to arrange things so that I feel better. It sounds like a small thing, but to me it is huge.

How do depressed people have babies? How am I supposed to get through TTC without my wellbutrin? Can you request a C-section? Because if somebody has to keep checking my cha, I swear I’ll have a nervous breakdown. Britney did it, didn’t she? And then I read something about pooping while delivering a baby and that made me have a nervous breakdown. Am I definitely going to get PPD? Have I told you how strange it is to have a quiet house because Bug has been reading for TWO HOURS STRAIGHT?
This concludes my mental health update.