October is My Favorite Month

Wow, twice in one year.  I am on a roll.

Why am I here?  Why. Why. Why.  I have decided not to eat today.  Maybe not ever again. I think my depression is back.  That cold rider, fingers digging into my spine, telling me I have no self-worth.  Everything I do is wrong.  I am a failure.  Everything - and everyone - I touch is worse for the experience. 

Maybe it’s because I don’t sleep anymore. My darling (monster) of a toddler has decided to throw out all her good sleep habits and not rest for more than a few hours at a time.  She crawls, screaming, into her sleeping bag every night – carefully laid out in the corner of my bedroom.  A concession.  A compromise.  Better than me sleeping in her bed, or spending the night – half slumped with back aching – in her room’s rocking chair. 

I can feel the exhaustion like a brick, filling up my head with rough sand. Grinding down all my thoughts and emotions until they are smooth and hazy around the edges.

Last week I spotted an old friend at the park. A once-upon-a-time best friend. One who is too busy for me now, or perhaps just in a different place.  I am married with a kid.  He is pseudo-single, living it up with two girlfriends.  It was a perfect fall day.  Crisp and sunny, with color exploding on the trees before drifting down to blanket the ground.  He was standing by the lake, idly watching a duck, and my heart skipped. Like seeing an almost lover. I reached out to him but pulled back after two steps.  Things are awkward now.  We made an attempt at keeping the friendship alive after my daughter’s birth. Brief lunch dates filled with pauses and missed shared experiences. It breaks my heart. 

Last weekend my dress split right up the back seam.  I had been so proud to squeeze back into my favorite pre-pregnancy cocktail scuba sheath.  I teased up my hair; was meticulous with my makeup. I felt pretty for the first time a long time, and then my fucking dress ripped in half. 

Last night my husband crossed the neutral zone in our bed and made me into a little spoon.  His hand cupped my breast as his breath warmed my neck. I pretended to be asleep, both internally screaming at being touched and fearing he would stop.

So many small things that add up to a crushing sense of defeat.  Today I try not to cry and decide not to eat.