Let’s Get Real ~ Being a Depressed Mom

I write online a lot. Lately I have been wrapped up in my reviews. I’ve been testing products and posting my opinions online. Helping sellers find other people to test their product has become my life. I take care of my children and my husband. Other than that, I work with my sellers. To the many people I deal with online on a daily basis, they think I am fine. Well I am not.

So here is the blunt ugly truth. I have given up. I am not wanting to die, but I am no longer really wanting to live. My desire to do anything is gone. My will to push through anything is gone. My will to shower daily is gone. I force myself to get dressed daily for the benefit of my children only. My therapist, that I stopped having the will to drive to 3 months ago says that is a good thing. My therapist doesn’t know me too well. I only broke down and went to her 3 times before I flaked out. I get dressed because it is the logical thing to do. Not because of some deep emotional thought, but because with children it is logical to not let them see how hard their mother is having it.

So here I sit. Every day, same cycle. I do what I have to do to get by. I do what I can to survive the day. I hate myself. I can’t look at myself in the mirror. I am withdrawn from the world. I have no friends. Literally. For some reason I say that and people are like ‘oh me too’, and most of the time they are full of shit. I literally do not have a single person outside of my home that I talk to more than once a year, other than my in laws who I talk to once a month when they see their grandchild. NO FRIENDS! My husband is my only friend. I don’t text anyone, I don’t call anyone, I don’t visit anyone, and I don’t have anyone over, ever!

I’m isolated and the only people I love live in the same home as I do. So in case you don’t know, in case you are the likely person who has not followed me over from another site I was a foster kid. I have no family except extended who I only see every few years. I have no one. My childhood was shit. Not little shit, big shit. I’m a survivor of over 10 years of incest rape, emotional abuse, and physical abuse. So yeah, my life has been fucked up. Now I am a 33 year old with serious depression.

I’ve decided to start writing about it more and more. I’m going to be really real here. I’m not writing any of this with any hopes of helping anyone. At this point I got to help myself. I need to do this for me and I couldn’t care less if it helps anyone reading it. My mind is fucked up and my brain is in overload. I am tired of feeling so messed up. I’d like to not feel like a fat slop at 130 pounds. So I am going to do my best to vent.

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