Depleted

I don't quite know where to start... This may sound whiny and self-indulgent... But I really don't care. I don't like me right now. I see patterns emerging from my own childhood... Words are flung around in the heat of parental frustration... things I am immediately sorry have escaped my lips. Tones used, shouting, yelling... Perpetual scowl lines etched into my forehead. Not enough real interaction...

I feel neglectful of them, of him, the upkeep of our home, of myself. Going through the motions... Not proud of myself. I don't know when this funk started, or when or how it will go away. I feel flat, frustrated, empty, negative... Unbalanced. In disarray. 16 months is too long for postpartum depression, right?

I think I have been in denial. Short of going on medication, I don't know what else to do. I have two gorgeous children, the sweetest husband, a beautiful home. I know these days of my children's youth are precious and few. I don't want to squander these days. I don't want to resent them... To look forward only to the silence at the very end of the day, once they finally drift off to sleep. I want to be present, fun, whimsical, reasonable, hopeful. I just want to be me again.