Ranting Session

I want to get something off my chest that has been bugging me for the past few weeks, and it can explain my lack of postings at the beginning of this week. And no, it is not really due to us moving, because I don't even have the energy to do a lot of unpacking or cleaning.

Most of you may not know this, but I have been suffering from what seems to be post-partum depression. I haven't really talked to anyone about it, or mentioned it at all really. I think I was either in denial, or mostly just not caring about... well anything. It hit me a few days ago when hubs and I got into an argument, and I just sat on the couch for hours afterwards. I didn't move, didn't talk, didn't eat or drink, I didn't even care to watch my son, pick him up, or giggle when he was being cute, and he was being oh so very cute.

Even as I sat there and noticed that I wasn't wanting to do anything, I was disgusted with myself for being that way, which made me feel worse. I felt like such a horrible mother, wife, and person. What was wrong with me? My son is my life, and yet I still didn't feel like living.

Well, what spurred my feelings has been my husband's comments lately. I always ask him for help with the baby while I cook dinner or finish something up on the computer (like coupon tracking or budgeting), and his way of helping is sitting my son on his lap while he continues to play on the computer. Of course, my son will always get bored, fuss, and run to bug me again. I love my son, and I would put anything down for him. But I am trying to make our family life better and I ask my husband for just 5 minutes of help, and he can't even do that. *Which by the way, my husband is disabled and cannot work outside the home presently, but he can help me with physical things around the house.*

Then when I mention how frustrating it is that my husband can't even look up from his computer games for longer than 2 seconds to help me, I get yelled at and called a 'useless blogger.' He says that I make him feel like a bad father when I mention things like that, but it's true. All he does is bury his head in an online game or chat room. I can't even get him to look up and see when my son is doing something adorable.

Afterwards, me and him talked and he apologized for what he said, but it didn't take away my feelings of emptiness and pointlessness. Here I am, busting my ass, trying to save our family as much money as I can, get us out of debt, and also finding ways to make our lives better, while raising our kids and carrying our third child. I am tired and overwhelmed. And for what? Why am I busting my ass for someone that doesn't appreciate my efforts?

Now most women in this situation that I've known are there because they don't ask for help, or whatever. But for me, that's not the case. I ask him for help, not all the time, just occasionally and only for a few minutes. Is that so hard? I try not to be nagging, but I physically do not have the energy to be standing, cleaning, cooking, caretaking, etc etc all day long. I can only do about 10 minutes of any activity before I need to sit down and take a break.

Usually in that time, my husband will grab the remote and change the channel (even though he is not even turned and watching the TV, just playing on the computer with the TV behind him). This of course upsets me, because when I go to sit down and relax until my next burst of energy I am stuck watching Chowder or some other horribly created show. (This is what spurred our argument the other day.)

Stupid things, yes I know. But I am a homemaker trying her damndest to make her house a home, and with a one year old at foot & a lil gremlin mullin around inside, I am tired all day long. I have so many ambitions, but I cannot get any of them done on my own.

I know my anger is justified and all, and that's not the issue. Hmm... I am not sure what I am trying to say here, but I am just trying to get my feelings out. I want to notice them, realize them, and hopefully find it in me to get help for myself. I dread the days these feelings come over me, but I have never been more fearful of them until the other day when I was so depressed that I couldn't even move. To have such feelings of despair, emptiness, and gloom while my son is running around, laughing, and playing peekaboo is not right. It is even worse that I do not care to get help for it. I don't want to feel that way anymore. I'm not in high school. I am an adult, a wife, a mother. I have others to care for, little gentle souls that count on me. It is not all about me.

So, why do I feel this way?