It is hard to be depressed and isolated socially.  Toward the middle of my second trimester, husb and I moved to another part of the state.  Sure it was only less than an hour away from where we used to live but with the rising price of gas it felt like we were moving an eternity away.

When the darkness started rolling in, I had hit the end of my 2nd trimester and the wee beginning of the 3rd.  I felt increasingly tired all of the time but more so than the average tiredness, I was constantly weepy, my mind went crazy during the day, my focus was lacking and I got so easily frustrated with my children over small things.  I felt like a mental and emotional wreck that was only two steps away from a breakdown.

The other emotion I felt quite frequently was that I enjoyed being alone more than I enjoyed being with people.  I wanted nothing more than to stew in my darkness… alone.  As a turtle in a shell, I would shy away from any social gatherings and would shy away from meeting with people who were happy.  I also did not want to be close to anyone other than husb and the kids.  I pushed a lot of people away for fear that they would see through my “fake-happy” exterior to the mental hell I was going through and do the worst thing possible (well, in my mind at least)… which was … judge me.

I didn’t want people to see through me.  I didn’t want them to glimps into the private hell of my mind to see a woman who was struggling to regain focus, ambition, and harmony.  It is no fun when you are not at peace with yourself.

I realized really quickly that it was harder for me to be away from my friends.  Sure, they were only less than an hour away but in retrospect, it felt like a lifetime in distance.

Then, I came across this article that links social isolation and depression.  This excerpt really hit home with me:

Women who said they did not have the support of family, friends, and a partner were nearly four times more likely to develop the disorder.

Having positive support from family and friends really helps the mental well-being of women who find themselves pregnant whether it be unexpected or planned.

It’s strange…

some days, I feel okay… dare I say a little happy.  Other days, it’s as if someone has switched off the light inside my head and I travel back down the dark rabbit hole and await for the cobwebs to start eating my brain.

Today, isn’t one of those days.  I actually notice that the sun is shining and I smile.  My temper is kept in check with the kids.  Owbie pushed his sister off of the coffee table earlier today and instead of losing my cool, I calmly told him to go stand in the corner for a timeout and think about what he did.  4 minutes later, he came out of the corner and gave her a hug.  He then gave me one too.

I did not feel frustrated or annoyed.  For once, I just felt calm.

We had a good weekend, my family and I.  Hubb gave me some time to work on the term paper due for my philosophy class.   The kids were strangely on their best behavior.

Hubb asked me what I wanted for mother’s day.  My reply?  Just a nice day out with my family.  I thought it would be super fun to make a picnic lunch and take the kids to a great big park.  I would rather spend time with my family on that day.  I don’t need expensive gifts or an evening out…. just being with hubb and the kids is all I need.

I know that a lot of my mood swings and depression can be chalked up to the pregnancy.  I am afraid of the impending postpartum depression after the pregnancy, that’s for sure.  I will remind my doctor next week.  I don’t want to take the chance on being a total wreck after the birth.  My kids are too important to me.

I came to grips with the situation involving my dad.  It isn’t my responsibility to make him be a grandpa.  Nor is it my responsibility to take care of my brother.  My parents need to take care of their children and I need to take care of mine.  It is as simple as that.  It doesn’t make me a bad person because my father doesn’t want to give up watching Fox News for a weekend to see his grandkids.  It also doesn’t make me a bad person that my Marine brother wants to come home and I don’t have the funds to pay for it.  As much as I love my brother, the situation isn’t mine to handle.

The weight of the world does not have to end up on my shoulders.  Sometimes, I have a habit of taking responsibility for things that are not my responsibility.  It can be chalked up to the guilt-thing I was talking about in an earlier post.

Now, to remember that everything is not my responsibility or fault will be another uphill challenge.  Pregnancy amnesia has me forgetting a lot of things lately.

Late yesterday, my husband and I had an epiphany together.  I finally opened up to him and told him about my depression, weight gain, and general unhappiness with myself.

I am so in love with him and my children but I am not in love with myself.  The depression is sending me spiraling down a rabbit hole and at the moment, I am having a tough time looking to the bright side.

After weighing in at 307 pounds last Monday, I realize that things need to change.  99% of my confidence and depression issues stem from not losing the weight post pregnancy and gaining even more on top of that.  It is a vicious cycle that plays on my emotions.  To succumb to it is only natural for me because that’s what I have done from pre-teen years to now.

I have decided to try and lose some weight before the baby is born.  No crash diets for me, though I have always known that carbs are my enemy.  Well, to a certain extent anyway.  I am two steps away from developing full blown diabetes.  I love sugar, bread and anything made with yeasty goodness.

When I was younger, my motivation was to get sexy and enjoy the bar hopping life.  To find a companion and fall madly in love.  To feel good about myself and party enough to have no regrets.  About 6 months ago, I had to revamp those goals.  I have a husband I love, children I adore and a life that is altogether pretty darn good (knock on wood).  So what is my motivation now?

After spending 6 months asking myself that question, it comes down to this:

My motivation is…… me.  I want to be good to myself which will in turn allow me to be better for my family.  I want to enjoy life again (something I have not done fully in 5 years).  I want to enjoy shopping, sex, trips out, get togethers with friends and family.  I want to be active for my kids.  I want them to embrace a healthy life style and I want to have fun with them.  How simple is that?  I want to put the fun back into life.

Death at an early age scares me.  With the depression and poor lifestyle habits (eating crap food and getting absolutely NO exercise) I am afraid that the powers that be will decide I am a lost cause.  I can’t do that to my children.  I can’t do that to my husband.  I can’t do that to myself.

So, important decisions were made.  My husband and I have decided to health up.  No more fast food, soda pop or anything remotely resembling junk.  Once we can get that out of our systems, we can begin to build back up with healthy foods.  Sure, there will be times we will want to spring for pizza or some other fast food but we’ll be armed with better habits.  For now, it is better to not touch fast food altogether.  Too much temptation.

The second decision is that I vow to get 30 minutes of exercise everyday.  I’m going to start out with walking.  After the baby is born, I will start to bike ride again.

Third, I have decided that I will talk to my doctor about putting me on anti-depression meds.  I need them right now.

There’s no doubt about it.

I cannot do this alone.

I don’t know what is wrong with me.  One moment i’m on an even path of consciousness and the next I feel like i’m fighting just to breathe.

Today was a bad day.  Maybe it’s because of lack of sleep.  Maybe it’s because yesterday I had two big glasses of caffeinated goodness in the form of Coca Cola.   Today I felt like crap.

I woke up this morning and found that my adorable son put poo all over the carpet.  He’s 3 and 100% potty trained.  He had to go poo and chose to do it in his pants.  Not liking the way it felt, he decided to pull said pants off and spread the poo around.  I was so frustrated and irritated in that moment.  Not a good way to wake up for sure.

Then, the rest of the day dragged by.  It was deliciously sunny and warm outside but I could not seem to muster up some enthusiasm to take the kids outside.  We spent the day inside where I was a very tired and cranky mumma.  My bebes were fed and taken care of but the house was not touched.  As of right now, it looks like a tornado whipped through.

I didn’t get dressed either.  I have been doing a daily ritual (since October) of taking a shower and putting on a clean pair of PJs after.  I don’t put on makeup, I don’t do my hair up all cute and I look like a disaster on a daily basis.  I know that my husband minds but he does not say anything.  The only thing he says is that once this baby is born… I am going back to normal people clothes.

I have to admit i’m off my game in a big way right now.  Some days are good.  I feel clear and happy on those days.  Other days, it is as if a dark cloud follows and watches my every move.  What the fuck is wrong with me?  Why do I feel as if i’m two steps away from throwing myself off of a cliff?

My weight doesn’t help.  I currently tip the scales at 300 pounds.  Not a glory mark to be sure.  I’m eating the wrong things, crying and just plain ol’ feeling miserable right now.  Every part of my pelvic and hip area hurts like a mo’ fo’.  I want to exercise but I can barely walk.  I’m a skinny person trapped in a GoodYear Blimp.

I want to analyze why today has been so shitty but I have a headache and my puffy eyes are begging to be closed.  I promised myself that I wouldn’t wallow in this house because this is a new house.  New house.  New Mia.  See how this is supposed to work?  These walls are going to soak up all of this negative energy and then spit it back out onto us all.  I cannot let that happen.

You could read the “About Me” page *or* I can just come out and tell you about me. So, this is me telling you about me. Original eh?

Getting on with it…

I’m a mom in my late 20’s. I got hit by a truck at the age of 22, got pregnant at the age of 23 and after that was fired from two jobs in 2 years. The first job I was fired from lasted three years. In that three years, I became pregnant, had my baby, gained a bunch of weight during and after the pregnancy and then became pregnant with baby number 2. I was fired from this job because simply put, I hated it there. They knew it. I knew it. The whole world knew it. I hated it so much in fact, that I signed up at a site called F This Job. I would bitch and complain on a monthly basis there. Being able to release my pent up postal attitude and read the woe-is-me tales of other employees made me feel better. Every day at this particular job was indeed the worst day of my life. I identified with that Peter guy from the move “Office Space” really well.

I was fired from that job at 6 months pregnant. Pregnancy brought out a rage of hormones that didn’t help me much. If I really disliked something, my pregnancy hormones made me *hate* that something. It was hard to hide how I felt. Looking back, I don’t blame them for firing me. Toxic attitudes are not good for any company. I only wish they would have fired me sooner.

The second job, I call my rebound job. I landed the job upon first interview on the very next day that I was fired from the first company. Talk about a much needed ego boost! Then came the pressure. I was 6 months pregnant, heavy and emotional. Though I will say that during the rest of my pregnancy I was on fire at this place! I truly owned my position and made it my mantra to change my situation. I didn’t quite click with my boss but I loved the other female co-worker there (she was engaged and loved karaoke. Truly one cool chick!) so it was all good! By the time maternity leave came around, I had secured my position there. They loved me. I loved them. It was a match made in heaven (or so it seemed). Also at the time, I had started school. For some reason, when I was 4 months pregnant with baby she-monkey, I decided I didn’t want to be a mere peon anymore. I wanted to conquer the business world. So, I enrolled in a Baccalaureate program at an accredited school that also had a great online program. At the time, I thought I wanted to go into Human Resources.

Anyway…. getting back to maternity leave…

My maternity leave was pretty good. My 2nd C-section (the first was due to failure to progress) went off without a hitch and the recovery time was fairly fast! By the time 4 weeks rolled around I *felt* ready to go back to work. Being at home with two kids for four weeks was pretty easy so it would be even easier to go to work full time and attend school full time as well, right? Wrong. I resumed my position at the company and all was well. However, things had changed in the quick four weeks I was gone. Most of the people I had become accustom to working with left for Florida on a job down there. So a bunch of new people were hired in. Then, the office girl I *really* clicked with found out that her fiancee had got a job offer in another state. For obvious reasons, she was going with him. I was already pretty hormonal at that point, so when she left, I was devastated.

So many changes in the blink of an eye! All of the sudden, it didn’t feel like the company I signed up with! All of the sudden, I felt so very lost. My boss got weird on me at this point. I noticed how catty she was (a woman being catty…. what a shocker, right?) and had become especially after the one girl left. This girl had been her BFF and helped her tremendously with everything! Once she left, she was not even fit to be dirt on the bottom of the boss’s shoe.

Then, a new girl got hired in and my kids started getting sick. I swear on a weekly basis I was home at least a day or two with one of them. The daycare’s policy is that if your child is sick, he or she cannot be at daycare. So, being that I am mom, I stayed home with them. I couldn’t help it and had no other option. I knew that work would be mad, but I really tried my hardest to be the best employee ever! I came in early, sometimes didn’t take a lunch and left late. I knew they wouldn’t be happy…. but I didn’t know that I would be written up for it! So, I got my first write up ever. I have always gotten rave reviews. Even at the last job, my reviews were stellar. In the end, it was a personality conflict.

After the write up, my husband punched his hand through a wall (long story there). In doing so, he broke many important bones in his hand. This warranted surgery. I needed to take more time off to be there for him and to take him to and from the hospital. It was my wifely duty and what I needed to do. My boss was not pleased and yelled at me because I was late coming in after dropping him back off at home. Murphy’s law happened and he got out of surgery late. How could I have possibly predicted that?

Soon after that, things between my boss and I got tense. I was literally afraid to go to the bathroom there. The more I tried to focus, the less focused I became. Before the breaking of the hand and after I had gotten written up for the first time, I became deeply depressed. I felt that I was failing as a mother, failing as a wife and failing as an employee. No matter how hard I tried, I was unable to make it work. The more I thought about it, the less focused I had become.

After the hand incident, I began shutting down at work. If a stressful task would come my way or my boss would yell at me about something, I checked out to a happier place. I started playing around on the internet more, concentrating on work less and overall just became a zombie in every area of life. So, not even a year on the job (actually a few days shy of a year), my boss fired me. I didn’t care. I was relieved. Upon the relief, I knew I needed a break. I was looking forward to a bit of a break.

Now… let’s talk about weight gain. I had already gained about 30 lbs after giving birth to my son (through the course of 18 months). I weighed in at 185 (pre-pregnancy) and 230 (post pregnancy) and then after 18 months weighed 265. I was 265 when pregnant with baby she-monkey. I think I gained like 30lbs during my pregnancy with her. However, after she was born, I weighed 260. Then, I ate and ate and ate due to all the stress I was under with my job, family and school. By the end of the job I weighed 285 lbs. I gained 100 lbs in 3 years. Pretty amazing. Pretty shitty.

So, here I am. Trying to fight my way out of this fog. I am currently pregnant with baby number 3 (totally by accident I assure you! We thought we were done at 2). I feel a little lost. I know that I am dealing with postpartum depression. My mom begged me to get help but instead I told her I was a “warrior” and didn’t need help. I just needed to buck up. Well, obviously I wasn’t much of a warrior.

I have already discussed ppd with my doctor. He told me that he will put me on meds before the baby is born. That way, we can head off anything major (i.e. hurting my children). The funny thing is, of all the emotions and feelings and rage i’ve had inside… none of it was directed toward the kids. If anything, they helped me retain my focus on them. I didn’t shut down with them the way I did in other areas of my life. If anything, I was dealing with the guilt of being away from them during the work day. Spending every moment I could with them became an obsession.

That’s my life in a nutshell. I changed my major from HR (because clearly it wasn’t for me. I hated accounting and payroll at rebound job!) to web development. I absolutely LOVE the internet. In fact, I run 2 blogs and 1 mom site. I’ve been doing this for over 2 years now! I have learned a lot and cannot wait to learn more!

My name is not really Mia… but it is a protective alias for myself because of the personal thoughts and feelings I share in this blog.  Mia is my current ego that I dub a pen name.  Everything else in the blog is an accurate account of my feelings and things that have happened in my life.

I really want to find myself. Words cannot express how lost I have felt for 3 years. If you made it this far, you are brave.