I knew this would happen...

It's so hard

to look back on what I have written, and feel so far detached from it all. So painful to be so disregarded by a man, such a simple man.
I wonder why I stopped writing, and I did, completely. I used to fill journals at a steady pace, something I did my whole life. But dealing with a man with such a simple way of looking at life, such a small minded man.
I am in the process of pulling myself back up, while still struggling with almost overwhelming depression.
He rarely showers, he stinks... so eventually, I gave up, started showering about once a week, it was disgusting
He rarely brushes his teeth, something I would have done a minimum of twice a day, which I also brought down to maybe once a day... I mean, how could I kiss him when the smell of him was disgusting me? So I sank to his level.
and boy did I sink, or should I say stink

I feel so badly for anyone in this position, it is just so confusing, how it happens. It makes me wonder about myself, makes me scared of myself.

I will be 40 years old this year and am working against this depression... it's like a true physical barrier to a normal life

My post partum after my 4th and final child was beyond anything I have experienced. Even writing this kills me, but since I think about it to no avail, perhaps putting it down would help.

I have cried a lot after the birth of my children, so I was prepared for the depression, which is just mostly overwhelming love for my children, extreme thankfulness to be their mother, and just a dread of life. But this last one, my easiest baby, sweetest little love, and every day I had an incredible compulsion to kill her.
stuff her in the over in the turkey roaster pan
dig her eyes out with my thumbs
twist her head to break her neck
smother her
it was an actual feeling in my bones, in my arms, I didn't really want to kill her, I didn't, but the thoughts just wouldn't leave me. Even now I don't remember too much of the good, so immersed in the horror show going on in my mind. Worried that one day I would wake up and I would have actually done it... and not known.
And it just doesn't end, once I stopped nursing her... I stopped feeling compelled to kill her, so wonderful
but
it wasn't long before I felt the need to cut myself open, release all the pain, and that just won't stop. I never understood people who cut themselves, I heard about it, read about it, never understood it. But now I do. It is nothing I will ever do, much like I would never kill myself, so why is it in my head all the time? It is almost like a horrible sort of insanity! I am a great mother, my children are all attractive and normally well behaved. I have a beautiful home.. I mean, really... I have it all. So why is this happening all the time?
And I haven't sat back feeling sorry and doing nothing, I did take medication, it did help-in a way. Prozac and me don't mix well... in fact none of the anti depressants I have taken over the years have been ideal. But this last dose I was paying more attention since I have done this before. I act inappropriately, the best example... I had sex on the car on the side of the road... that is SOOOO not me, but I did it. There was a lot of craziness, just a real disconnection with right and wrong. And of course, ultimately I became covered in bruises, for no reason... they were killing me. And after calling my dr, explaining the suicide urges... and him telling me to double the medication and come in to see him in 2 weeks... I thought I would be better off alone.

and I am trying