Depression

I am a horrible employee. I've done a handful of hours of work in the last week.  I work from home a lot so it's way too easy to slack off.  I just don't care.  I don't care how much is on my plate or how many pressing things I have to do.  When I turn on my computer for work it is all immediately pushed to the backburner and instead, I spend my hours trolling the internet.  Reading the TFMR board, reading the PG after TFMR board, and the Loss Board and the PgAL board, and my PAIF group and IDOB and SAIF. Reading through women's stories of loss and others blogs and even back through my own blog posts...  Hours and hours leading to days and days are just wasted away like this and I don't even care.  I don't care that I'm a shitty employee now.  I don't care that I have no passion for my work; that I have no passion for my life really.

My husband doesn't know I spend my days like this; sitting on the couch in my pajamas, sometimes showering, sometimes not, just lost inside my computer, often giving myself a headache from all the crying (which I then blame on the pregnancy).  When he asks me how my day was I say busy. He thinks I work all day. My boss and coworkers think I work all day - how I've managed to pull the wool over their eyes for this long I really don't know.

And I don't even know what I get out of all of this internet searching.  I am not learning anything new, it's not making me feel any better... Each night when I lay in bed thinking about what I have to do the next day I make a promise to myself to just NOT open those forums or blogs or links. To start right in on my work and have tunnel vision and not allow myself to stray. But I always do. My life revolves around my loss, my fear with this new pregnancy, and my internet world. I live that life all day and then I dream about it all night.

I know this is not healthy.  I know I'm depressed. Having constant nausea and fatigue for the last few months has not helped either since I can't exercise. I used to go to Zumba 3x/week. It made me feel good - the movement, the endorphins, the weight loss, the schedule, the reason to get out of the house and interact with people...  I don't do that anymore. I also don't reach out to my friends and when they (rarely) reach out to me to get together I always make up an excuse.  I isolate myself. It's easier this way.

Since we received the results last week from my screening I haven't been able to picture any other future besides loss.  I no longer picture myself with a baby.  Any amount of connection I felt with this pregnancy has pretty much dwindled down to nothing. All I can picture now is going through all the same pain we went through with Petey. And this time, I can't picture myself being strong and moving forward.  All I can picture is it breaking me.
And that is how I feel: Broken and useless and just... sad.

In the past I've felt like this blog has been my therapy. But it's no longer helping. I think it's time to go see an actual Therapist. I haven't wanted to because I just haven't wanted to talk about it. When I focus on all of this it makes it worse. If I can distract myself it is better. But I've been unable to distract myself lately. Maybe this is a sign that I'm doing a worse job than I thought working through my grief and my fear.
 
Finally opening up about this and typing it all out is making me see just how mentally unhealthy I really am right now. I think it's time to admit that I need some help.