I'm lacking balance in my life right now, including how much time I'm spending on the computer. As a result, I won't be posting as often...probably twice a week. If I post more, you should be worried about me, because it means I'm getting depressed about the baby again.

Depression often means I can't get exercising and not surprisingly, the depression is thick around my ankles and moving up. I've found a few places on line where I end up thinking about stuff that just gets me depressed -- like my wild and harried past.

Specifically, when I was about 18-21, I had gone through a number of abusive relationships and then happened upon a doozy. I was beaten and raped a lot and while it's left a lot of scars, most of my feelings about it all are old hat. Most of the time, I can suck it up and deal with day-to-day life, but sometimes when things get difficult, I just realize that I've been on a plateau of coping. I view depression as similar to weight loss. You start with a fair amount of baggage. You drop some baggage and ride it out for a while on a plateau. After you get used it, you start working on the next 5-10lbs. I'm working on my next 5-10lbs, I think, both of the depression as well my body.

I had a friend who told me once that he thought the most interesting challenge for me would be to deal with day-to-day life, in light of what happened to me. He's probably right. However, last time I dealt with my day-to-day life I wasn't careful and I was in the hospital for a week on suicide watch. I have to do this in drib and drabs for it to work for me and now, for my family.

It probably helped that I talked with my MIL. I know, you're scratching your head and saying to yourself,"You like got a helpful conversation out of talking with your mom-in-law?" Yes, I did.

I just called her and told her I was thinking about antidepressants and she warned me away from them and asked about what was going on. I told her what I told you. I miss my baby. I miss her a lot. I'm doing things that get me more depressed. If I could have a wish come true, it would be that Mike would go get a real job and I could work half-time and stay home the other half. I would never ask him for that and I know it'll get better, but right.fucking.now. it sucks.

Anyway, I talked with Mike about how I'd been feeling, even about my dirty little wish that he'd blow off school and work full-time and a funny thing happened. I suddenly stopped giving a shit about being religious about my journal. I have sat down and started reading for the first time in years. I started actually working at work. And amazingly enough, I'm not feeling so damned depressed. Mike, of course, asked about if I really wanted him to quit school and I told him, "HELL NO!" Because in 9 months, he'll have his degree and he'll graduate and he'll be able to get that job. I just have to hang in there 9 more months.

I figure if I can get through the nine grueling months of a diabetic pregnancy, I can do this.

In the interim, I've got pictures and you should see them. The things a digital camera will drive you to. I swear.