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Posted on 2015.02.11 at 23:08

My flavor of depression comes in the form of lists. All the things I need to do, the never ending cycle of things I need to do better and the constant feeling of "I can't do this." With the baby, I have a new stack of things I'm not getting done. Load and unload the dishwasher, take out the trash and recycles, load and unload the washing machine and dryer, fold the clothes and put them away, clean the counters, sinks, stove, toilet, bathtub and sweep the floors. Pick up trash, organize clutter, pay bills and organize receipts. Take my supplements, feed and water the cats, feed the fish, clean the fish tank. Now I also feed the baby, change his diaper, get him dressed, take care of his laundry, burp him and he also needs to be played with, sang to, read to, talked to, rocked and held. And the responsibility for dinner has become mine because I HAVE to eat in order to be able to feed the baby. So now I plan meals, shop for ingredients and prepare the meals. With my depression, little things start to slide, dishes stay in the sink, laundry sits in the dryer or the basket, the bathroom goes uncleaned, the baby gets set in the swing... and that nagging feeling of failure eats at me. It's not good enough, it'll never be good enough, it'll never be done. I just want to shut down and push it all away. Or curl up and sleep forever. God, sleep sounds so sweet when I'm looking at two hours of rest and then more screaming baby who needs to be fed and changed and burped...

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