I’ve been quiet online and in my real life, too.
It’s not you. It’s me.
It started as irritability. I found myself cursing at tiny grains of rice as I tried to scoop them off the floor after a meal. I snapped at my husband for little things: hair left on the bathroom counter, a tone in his voice I took offense to. The girls pushed buttons. They couldn’t help it. Everything was a button.
And then the quiet set in. And I wanted to curl up with hours of The West Wing and my crochet. From the moment I got up in the morning.
I started to hear my inner-monologue whisper nasty things about being unloved, unworthy.
I waited. Because sometimes, a bad week is just a bad week. And then the timing suggested it was PMS. And well, it should have lifted by now. I should be back to my overachieving, confident, take-life-by-the-horns self.
So yesterday, I call friends and told them what was going on. I asked them to hold me accountable for calling my doctors and making therapy and psych appointments. I cut back on my commitments and took the evening to take care of myself. I know exactly what to do.
And I know what not to do. I will not believe that I am unworthy. I will not seek out truth in the grey cloud that is casting shadows on my life. Whether this is lingering PMS, a reaction to teething-induced sleep deprivation, or something more, I will not forget that depression lies.
I will be okay.