One of those days

Today is one of those days. I'm feeling low. (I've wanted to write about feeling depressed while I was feeling depressed, so here's an effort. I usually give up on these posts cause they read so horribly, but since I've wanted to try it, I guess I will.)

I was feeling pretty good this morning, but for some reason today just got harder and harder as it went on. And it's not like anything really happened. I just got bogged down in the minutiae. You know, no matter how much housework I did this morning the house is destroyed before dinner. It doesn't matter that a magazine wanted to buy a poem, all I can think about is how I'm having writer's block on the next one. It doesn't matter that my girls played for almost thirty minutes this morning without arguing (a new record!), all I can think about is how grouchy they were during family scripture study. It doesn't matter that the baby had a good nap and is beginning to settle into a routine, all I can think about is how he cried and cried at the gym and I'll probably have to cancel my membership. Or wake up at the crack of dawn to exercise. And then it just feels like a flood or a box or something closing in on me and swallowing me.

On days like today I just feel like a failure at everything--as a mother, a wife, a writer, a friend, everything. That feeling of failure is like having quicksand inside. It just opens up and sucks everything inside it, getting bigger as it does. By the end of the day I just feel empty and achy.

Tonight I filled the ache with Thin Mints. Well, I stopped at seven because noshing out on cookies just felt like another failure. So I filled the ache with television. Which actually worked pretty well. Most people in TV shows (at least the ones I like) are depressed. Take Scrubs for example, the show is funny and depressing at the same time--although I do mute it everytime the Todd walks on; he's icky. I'm not sure how the writers do it, but the strange mix ameliorates the ache. Or at least distracts me from it. It's a good thing I'm Mormon or I'd probably have a substance abuse problem.

I guess the weird thing is that in my head, I keep hearing all those hymns and Sunday school lessons that say I should pray or read my scriptures or do something church-y to make myself feel better. But, honestly, I don't want to. It just seems too hard. A lot of the time those things actually make it hurt more. Odds are, praying about today would only make me cry and I'm not sure what good crying would do. It might just work me up more, especially because the feelings don't make a lot of intellectual sense. I don't know how to pray about it. Reaching out that way just opens it up more--like pulling the scab off a wound.

When I was in therapy the sessions all ended too quickly and I was always stirred up inside. I would sit in the car and feel shaky all over, trying to transition back into being the mom. I needed to take all the things that had been let out and put them away again, that way I could be the one who didn't have a lot of needs because my children had (have!) a lot of needs and failing them would be something I would never recover from. I would always picture my worked-up-self in a beautiful white room. The room was all full of light and had the most comfortable bed in it--like if the celestial room was a bedroom, that's what the room in my head looked like. I would picture myself laying down in that peaceful room and just going to sleep. Just imagining that setting helped calm me down. And somehow that feels spiritual to me. It's not scripture reading or anything traditional but it reminds me of God's love and that seems important. He's with me in this even if I don't know how to feel Him. And that's important.