- Our bank account is drained of everything.
- I work harder than I ever have trying to make up the money for it (with a LOT of help from friends) in 2 weeks.
- I discover a lie.
- Our bank account is hit again but by a different company taking out 5 monthly payments.
- Trying to organize our bills during this whole fiasco.
- Try not to worry about the impending family visit during Christmas (unsuccessfully).
I have been fighting this fact tooth and nail. I refused to believe it, asking who the hell wouldn't be freaked out with all of this going on at once. But, since the infamous Monday bankruptcy, I began to wake up with the breath sucked out of me realizing that I woke up to this reality. I lost my appetite and ate maybe a meal a day, if even that. "Stay Positive"? Yeah, right. For the first week after all of this, I felt like I had been hit by a truck and it wasn't from my workouts. Running wasn't really cutting it for me anymore, and our tree is still undecorated and half-lit.
We went to see our marriage counselor a couple of days ago and it came up that they (she and Bill) think I have postpartum depression and need to go on medication. I was pissed. Well, pissed wasn't even the word. Beyond pissed is more like it. It was just one more thing to deal with. Wasn't everything else enough?
It upset me on so many different levels. First, I felt like a failure. Like I couldn't handle my life during a stressful time when I should have been able to keep it together. I felt broken or defective. I was angry that after years of being able to handle a lifetime of insanity, that now I had to go on medication. I was angry that I had to suffer the side-effects of medication, ultimately making a difficult situation even more difficult (heart palpitations, weird feeling in my throat to start with), not to mention fears of other side effects (weight gain, "relationship" problems). The side effect that enraged me was nausea. I JUST lived nine months of my life with constant nausea and now I have to keep on with it for a different reason?! That alone would depress me more than anything else.
I begrudgingly called my OB to get the prescription filled. Last night on my drive home from the gym, I was deep in thought about all of this and my refusal to believe that I have postpartum depression, that this was all just life crap happening. Then I remembered what life was like with Logan in his babyhood. And that I thought the same thing - that it was all life crap. And how months (more than a year?) later after talking to a postpartum depression specialist who told me that life stress can cause you to go into postpartum depression I realized that I had lived undiagnosed and untreated.
I'm still angry, but a little less. I'm on day 3 of the medication.