I feel like Usher.
And this is my Confessions Part 2.
That last post I wrote...
the one about hating being pregnant?
Let's just ignore that.
I re-read that yesterday and I thought, "Holy cow! This is really negative."
Even Nick told me that my posts have been getting more and more depressed sounding.
I do suffer from clinical depression.
I have for many, many years.
I even took medication for it.
However, the medication that I was taking
was actually a narcotic.
They didn't tell me that when it was prescribed to me
as a fourteen year old.
They didn't tell me how miserable it would be
to wean myself off of it.
To make a long story short,
it's not a safe drug for pregnancy.
But it's even more dangerous for me to simply
stop taking it.
So it's a slow, painful and drawn-out process
to clean my body.
I mean, after almost nine years of taking this
my body has become addicted to it.
So, needless to say, I have these
little sporadic moments of depression
that creep up on me when I'm not expecting it.
Before the medication
I used to hurt myself because of that depression.
I wanted to die.
To fight off those feelings
I would write.
Now it's become a habit.
I get sad
Granted, I don't hurt myself anymore.
I don't want to die.
I have too much to live for.
My life is good!
Why am I depressed?
Lack of sleep.
Take your pick.
I just wanted to let you all know that I'm okay.
I don't hate my baby.
I don't hate myself.
I just vent by writing.
...and eating ice cream.