I’ve Never Been So Happy for a Fever

photo by sarabeephoto

I can’t really recall how much I have shared here about my problems with depression throughout my life. The short story is:  I’ve had it many times.  Sometimes it has been bad.  Sometimes it has been really bad.  I’ve always had it after pregnancy (and sometimes during).  There have been two times when I’ve admitted to my family that it’s happening with the intention that I wanted them to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid.  (Once was after I had Jack, and the other was this past fall.)

Now that we have that out of the way…

I started feeling bad on Sunday.  Really bad.  I was sad and just wanted to cry.  I came to the feeling that I came to this fall — I’m not doing what I really want to be doing in life.  I got panicked.  I stayed awake until 4 am.  It was ugly, kiddos.

On Monday, I still felt horrible.  I was sad and upset.  Everything that happened made me feel like junk.

Finally, at dinner time, I just wanted to lay my head down on the table and cry.  That’s when I realized I felt funny.

I said to Eric, “Do I have a fever?”  He felt my head and declared it to definitely be feverish.  I stayed up just long enough to watch How I Met Your Mother and then almost immediately went to sleep.  Twelve hours later, I still didn’t feel great, but not only did I feel a little better, but my mood felt a lot better too.

So, here’s my little post with lots of short sentences to say, “Welcome to our home, Fever!  I’d much rather have you visit than that stinker, Depression.” I’ve got my fingers crossed that all of that extreme emotion was just the onset of sickness and not another bout into Stinkersville.

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