Liar Liar.

I think I need to start being brutally honest with myself.

I need help.

There, I've said it. I know I need help, I am in desperate need of help... but I'm afraid to ask for it. I'm afraid the kind of help other people will think I need will get me sent to a mental hospital. I'm afraid they'll take away my son and my husband. I have nightmares that haunt me about being taken from my family because of my problems. Not any single problem in particular but the whole slew of problems adding up to make me feel like a terrible mother and a major failure in all aspects of my life.

I have been battling depression for well over 10 years now, and it It's something I struggle with daily. Some days it's debilitating, can't get out of bed because I'm so insanely depressed that it hurts to do anything other than lay in bed, lethargic. When I was first diagnosed with depression I was also battling anorexia, self-mutilation, the trauma of my father getting sent out on multiple deployments, and the trauma of having been raped. 

Fast forward to my freshman year in college. I was still depressed, still fighting anxiety and the urge to be self destructive, but I was also happy. I was recently out of a toxic relationship and stayed dating a wonderful man who was teaching me to love myself. He distracted me from the pain of my past, and showed me that I could be happy in spite of those things. 

Then, I found out that I was pregnant. 

It was as if the universe could tell someyhing was going right for me and had to throw something in there to mess it all up. 

Now, don't think for one second I regret having a child when I did. I was blessed with the gift of motherhood, sooner than I expected, but the key word here is BLESSED. 

Unfortunately, what I got out of my pregnancy was not what I had expected. I got a son, a beautiful little boy that makes my heart swell when he runs to me and calls me mommy. I also got a horrific case of post partum depression that triggered all of the hopeless feelings I had once had to come back in full swing. I love my son more than life itself. I love him more than words can describe, more than there are stars in the sky, and for some reason this amazing love that I have for my son doesn't ease the pain of my depression. This love does, however, make depression harder to talk about. 

A part of me is scared that having extreme depression and not knowing how to handle it will get my beautiful little boy taken away from me. Add a lack of health insurance to that mix and you have paranoia. I can't have him taken away, he is my light, life, and reason to wake up in the morning... I can't get fixed because I can't see a doctor, but I can't not get fixed. Where do I go from here? 

I've already been denied Medicaid because I qualify to get insurance through my work, I can't get insurance through my work because they're going through changes with providers and I don't have a number to call to get informationon when it might become available to me.

I'm not even sure what the point of this blog post is anymore. I just want to have it all written down I just want a space that I can go and vent and maybe find some support. I don't know if anyone's going to read this, I don't know if anyone's going to care, but if you do, if you do read this and if you do care...

thank you