Words of Wisdom.

Note to self:
I am allowed to cry.
I am allowed to scream.
But... I am not allowed to give up.
It will all get done somehow; just breathe.

Nobody ever said parenting is easy. Actually, I'm pretty sure I was told repeatedly prior to entering motherhood that parenting is one of the hardest things I'd ever do. Still, I never expected it to be THIS difficult. I'm not much of a drinker (thank you binge-drinking teenage self!), yet I find myself constantly craving a glass of red, or a shot of tequila - pretty much anything that will take the edge off and let me cut loose for a minute or so.

But alas, that would require spending money on myself. And doing so results in mummy guilt, because Lord forbid I spend even a few dollars on myself!! :/
Mummy guilt is one of the worst things ever! Seriously, parenting is hard enough! Why do we torture ourselves by neglecting our basic need to feel good??!

Diagnosis is one step closer to completion....whatever the diagnosis may be. Spawn's school psychologist did this test that shows what a child MAY have. Spawn has markers for so many behavioural disorders! Some of which weren't a surprise - namely ADHD and ODD - however, to learn he scored so high in some areas was a bit of an eye-opener. How do I deal with this?? How HAVE I been dealing with this??!! Then I take note of myself and realise exactly how I've been dealing with it. By neglecting myself. From my neglected hair, to my neglected nails, right down to my faded old clothes and bad skin. Don't forget my weight. Jesus, my weight. I've cracked 100kg since the diagnosis process began. I hovered there for a little while previously, but had never actually cracked that satanic figure - until now. You'd think it would be motivation enough to kickstart me into doing something to lose the weight, but I lack the ability to care.

That's the thing about depression - you stop CARING. About EVERYTHING. I don't care that my hair looks like crap. I don't care that my skin is horrible. I don't care that I appear unapproachable and bitchy. I don't care that I cannot remember the last time I wore mascara (quite a feat considering I would NEVER have left the house without it even a couple of years ago!). I just DON'T. CARE. Which is the truly terrible thing about it all. Spawn has all he needs, and that's all that matters. Well, that appears to be the thought process inside my head. But he doesn't really have all he needs, because his mother - his ONLY parent - is a shell of a human. A large, ugly shell, who cannot remember the last time she truly felt happy.

I propose a resolution: let us all resolve to change things. Put ourselves above our child's possessions. Because really, what is the point in having a bunch of toys if your parents wont get down on the floor and laugh and play with you?

Peace out.

- L. x