Well here I am, 3 years after being diagnosed with post natal depression.  Am I now well..... no.  Am I miserable yes.  Am I unhappy yes.  Am I tormented yes.  Am I a failure yes.  Am I completely out of control, unreliable, selfish, helpless and unaccountable yes.

The story begins.

I had a happy good life.
I had 2 children, I became a robot, no feelings, anxious, failing at every thing, so I believed.  I was emotionless.  I looked at my childrens faces, I felt nothing, not really, only the things, I supposed I should feel.  Inside I think I only felt resentment.

I was holding down a job, looking after the children, the house, the other half.  One day in December 2010, I woke up, but could no longer function, it just hit me, wham, I just stopped, time stopped, life stopped, I stopped.
Tick tick tick, clearly the bomb had been ticking for sometime, I just didn't hear it.

I have changed beyond belief, I no longer recognise myself, infact as I sit here tonight  (December 2013) typing this blog, I despise myself.  3 long years, since diagnosis, I am probably worse now, than I was in the beginning.

I want things to be different, but am I able to change them.

The drugs have stopped working, or maybe they are the problem.  Ah Cymbalta how you helped me, oh and how you have demonised me.
Is it me who is this unknown person or is it you who has changed me?

Why am I doing this?  Good question.  I have to move on, I have to change what is in front, before, I either breakdown totally or just carry on miserably plodding along.
I need to see my story unfold for me to feel that I am real, that I do exist as a person, I want connections.  I feel like Pinocchio, someone else is pulling my strings, but I want to be a real person again.  Perhaps by doing this, even if no one reads it, I can express what I cannot vocalise.

Anyway, tonight is just back ground. For now I will leave it.