where to begin.
so. around christmas, i fell into a funk of epic proportions. it pervaded every minute of every day for weeks. my dreams were full of anxiety, death, rage, fear. my days were sluggish and empty. i loved my partner and child from a distance. i couldn’t break through, couldn’t reach them. i panicked. i thought, maybe this is holiday blues, or maybe it is winter and cold. but. but. it was bigger and blacker than that.
i’m not doing justice to this darkness, heaviness, bleakness, [insert more effective descriptor of the state of my mental health here]. i couldn’t name it, and i couldn’t cope. i really thought i was going crazy. i am immensely proud of myself for muddling through, for continuing to perform normally at work.
at home, however, h was in a constant worried state. i tried to talk about it, but i couldn’t pinpoint a “cause”. and so i speculated out loud. i don’t feel like a good mother, i said. perhaps it would be better if i were dead, i said. but i wasn’t really depressed because of mothering insecurity, and i wasn’t having suicidal thoughts. my brain was simply scrambling for somewhere to put this darkness, this out of control crazy feeling.
as it turns out, i am not crazy. i discovered the cause of the funk a few days ago, and with that epiphany came instant relief. the funk may still have its moments, but it also has its place. it is contained. i am free from the fear of it.
and now that i am officially sane, i will gladly begin writing again. because there sure as hell is a lot to talk about…