Being a (mostly) stay at home mom of a young toddler can be pretty lonely. Being a SAHM with depression can become it’s own isolated mental wasteland.
That’s where I’m at. Drowning in feelings of loneliness, guilt, insecurity and anxiety.
When you spend your days with a 17 month old, there’s not alot of stimulating conversation. It’s pretty one sided. That’s not his fault, but it’s something I obviously crave as an adult.
My depression and anxiety got so overwhelming that I completely isolated myself from the world. I stopped talking to people I once considered friends, because frankly, interacting with anyone outside of my home was just fucking exhausting. All of my energy was spent on a struggling teen, a kamikaze toddler, my relationship, and what was left of my deteriorating career (which I also quit giving a fuck about).
Now that I’m in therapy and trying to find a medication combo that addresses what it can, I’m hit with the full force of loneliness. However, I am still depressed and insecure, and that’s not exactly prime friendship resume material.
I’m trying. I’m learning thought replacement skills, mindfulness and healthy coping mechanisms. But it’s a long way up from the bottom and it’s so goddamn scary to make any progress.
I didn’t expect that.
It’s unfamiliar and it makes me feel vulnerable and exposed. I learned to be quite comfortable with the self loathing, though I’m quite sure there are sexier masochistic activities than mental lashes.
Self loathing seems to be my default setting. It’s so deeply ingrained in my personality that I don’t even notice it’s working its voodoo until I am paralyzed with insecurity, jealousy, fear, anxiety and guilt. What a fucking nightmare.
I get so caught up in my head that I feel like a disappointment most days. I feel like every time I slip, I am failing and disappointing and on the verge of losing everything I’ve worked so hard for. Sometimes I feel this way and can’t even put my finger on what I feel like I’m fucking up.
I lack the confidence to believe I’m not just another chore, sometimes. I convince myself I am a burden in most situations.
I also lack the confidence to ask for what I need, which, in most cases is just a hug. When I’m down and lonely sometimes I just need a hug. When I’m jealous and insecure? That’s when I need a hug the most, but somehow I believe I deserve it the least, so I don’t ask.
I’ve isolated myself so much that my world view has become so small and personal that I often have to remind myself that it’s not all about me.
When my partner isn’t jumping for joy, it’s not because I didn’t perform well enough, or clean, or whatever. He’s human and has varying emotions like anyone else. Some of which don’t have anything to do with me.
Shocking, right? 😒
I am ashamed to say that I am just now learning how to accept that at my age.
When my client doesn’t return my text, she’s not upset with me. She’s got her own damn life to worry about.
It’s hard though. Sometimes I believe it. Sometimes I don’t, and that’s when I start to panic and am sure it’s something huge and I’ve fucked something up. It’s a stupid, destructive cycle that I’m desperate to end.
With all of this fucking nonsense cluttering up my head and wasting my time, keeping me distracted from the beauty in my life that I am so damn blessed with, I convince myself it is nearly impossible to reach out and meet new people. I convince myself I have nothing to offer. I convince myself it’s just not worth putting myself back out there.
I know these are cognitive distortions, but fuck are they convincing sometimes!
I’m trying to trust the process and my journey. Trust doesn’t come naturally for me, so that’s an exercise in itself. I do know, though, that I want to feel better, so I’m doing the work.
It’s just rarely comfortable.