The Self Pity Monster

I suppose the title is a misnomer, because the term self pity is not my description of this phase of a depressive bout, it is what society at large seems to think. This current phase of “Why me, I suck, life sucks, I don’t deserve to live, I fail at everything” is NOT self pity. It is self loathing. It is desperation. It is ‘hanging by a thread and my brain wants to drive me to off myself with its depressive distortions’.

I started today out low but okay for depressed. It was cold and wet and I skipped yard sales. Actually, it wasn’t even an option to skip them, I simply didn’t have the desire or will to go out. And I haven’t turned down an opportunity for yard sales since I was 6 except during a depressive bout. Around one p.m. I took my kid to her grandmother’s for a promised playdate. I hadn’t bathed (the cold and gloom made my motivation about hygiene nil) and I was trying to ward off my mom’s comment the other day about how I can never stay, always have to go, too good to visit them…15 minutes in, my kid actually told me it was time for me to leave, I was hogging her aunt and grandma. And my mom snarked about how my kid isn’t the boss of me, I am the adult. Hmm…this after she made a bitchy comment about “you’re tougher on her than I was on your girls, I’m glad, I was a pussy, I let you walk all over me.”

Um…Reason why I am cracking down on my kid is because she is getting out of cute mindless kiddie age. She made an 11 year old cry at school the other day and 2 teachers had to intervene because she asked an adopted kid where she “came from”. This girl’s parents had signed away their rights and she’d bounced around foster care…Of course, my 7 year old didn’t know better. But it’s really not an appropriate question regardless of your age and Spook was playing victim because the older girl told her to ‘shut up’. Rude on that girl’s part but then my kid would have a tearburst if another kid pointed out her father’s absence from her life. Spook’s old enough to learn tact and empathy and compassion. I don’t know why that is considered ‘tough’ by mom’s standards but…Her seemingly positive support of me was attached to *that* judgemental tone indicating somehow I think I am a better parent than her.

I loathe going around them for that reason. The judgment.

I had a quiet day, following some errands in the dish. During which I had one of my usual “Wal-mart only” weak and dizzy spells. I think part of it is the road work on the main drag and the stress of the closed lanes and navigating traffic. But it unnerved me enough to come home and regroup. Then spend the day anxious without any real explanation.

When my sister brought my kid back she came inside to see the kittens and the ‘self pity monster’ kicked in. Because my sister is a housekeeping goddess and I broke the vacuum again this morning so I couldn’t even claim clean floors…and she made a comment about the strong scent of my Zen wax melts. Then I noticed my kid was in different clothes and had been bathed, as if I somehow neglected her. (They failed to mention she went fishing and got dirty when with them, my paranoid brain just jumped to conclusions.)

And so it started. Another minor tearburst in front of my kid because I caught her in a lie (and she just won the character award at school for honesty last month). Then came “I can’t do anything right.” Then it was “The doctor will want to lock you away, your own family thinks you can’t even keep your kid clean.” Followed by, “You’re buried alive here, you are never ever getting out from under it all, you’re as good as dead.”

Thankfully, though weak and getting its ass kicked, my stubborn rebellion streak spoke up and reminded me, when things are bleakest and you’re at your weakest, it’s time to not give up and not give in, ever.

Am I feeling it strongly? Nope. But it’s still there, reminding me that I am NOT depression’s bitch. Even though I really feel like I am down for the count.

One more lie depression tells.

So while the world at large may consider this the self pity monster…I pity only my child for having a mom with such a screwed up brain. I blame myself for something I cannot control.

Thanks for the social programming, world.Fuck you too.

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