Hey, blog land, with my zero followers, because who advertises a sporadic blog? Not I, so you'll just have to accidentally find it. Probably when I comment on another blog, that's when you'll find me. Then you'll be like, "What the fuck is this shit?" Close the window.
Yes. I said, "fuck." I like that word.
Also, it's how I feel lately.
Fucked.
My depression. My daughter's depression.
She's 11, by the way, and was cutting herself in school last week for the attention. Obviously, we're not paying her any mind what with the psychologist, psychiatrist, play therapist, neurologist, CT scan, and now two different MRIs she's had. Nope, we're not trying to help her at ALL, so she needs to take sharpener blades and cut the top of her wrist and ask fellow students to choke her with her scarf. She's quite brilliant, but quite the depressed, anxious, and low self-esteemed child. I don't know HOW. She gets attention. She gets love. She gets cuddles, hugs, kisses (when she allows it - we practice consent). She is encouraged to express herself artistically, through her clothing, through anything except destroying things, temper tantrums, and screaming at people - which are of course her preferred methods of expressing anything but happiness. She's like the little girl with the little curl.
There was a little girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead.
And when she was good, she was very, very good; when she was bad, she was horrid!
That's my baby, in a nutshell, minus the curl. When she's in a good mood, she's so sweet and loving and you'd think there was never a happier child. When she's not, and she's so often not, you never see it coming. Who knows what will set her off? Not me. Not her. NOBODY.
She's had psychological testing done. Just finished it a couple weeks ago, actually. She has no psychosis: no bipolar, no bpd, no schizophrenia, nothing like that. Just severe depression, anxiety, and low self-esteem.
Isn't that enough?
So, I'm scared to allow my own depression to show, really, because I don't want to make hers worse. Mine is definitely compounded by hers, because all I want to do is make it better and there's NOTHING tangible to make better! I can't even give her advice about what's making her sad, because as anyone who's had depression knows: There is nothing making her sad, she just IS.
Fuck.
She got a hair cut before her MRI yesterday, though, and she loves it. She was so happy, and seems more confident so far. I hope it helps, any little thing that helps. She had a hand bell concert tonight, too, and seems to love that. She wants to be in band and orchestra when she gets to middle school, so there's lots of concerts, football games, and spending in my future.
Well, my head hurts, and all I have left to say is different words repeating the same message.
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