Public health professionals keep asking me if I feel blue. Or if I have cried at random things. Yes, I understand that they are trying to keep a handle on the possibility of post-partum depression. But, frankly, I had a dead baby 2 years ago. I live in a world where I sometimes feel blue and cry at random things. This is not a hormonal response but a life existence. I've been on my gaurd for depression for two years and I continue with vigilance.
My mother has continued the dysfunctional-relationship saga with a morning phone call. The absurdity of it all strikes me again and again. This time her request is that we "fix things". If we just talk things out. Oh, give me a break. The poor, delusional woman has this image in her mind that we will be the two Lorelei’s if we just sit down for a heart-to-heart. Sadly, in this nice little place where I live called "the REAL world", three-odd decades of dysfunction are not resolved by having one little conversation. I wish that we could sit down and talk out our differences, but the likelihood of that coming to pass is incredibly slim.
Really, what I think she wants is to stop feeling badly. If we could patch this thing up to the point where we can carry on like two people who like each other, maintaining decorum and dignity, we would be in a pretty good place. I hope that we can find that balance and that she is satisfied.
So, because such a phone call is nothing less that traumatic, I spent the remainder of my morning on the phone - first to my husband, then my sister, then husband again, then grief counselor. The people who pick up my pieces after the Dysfunction Patrol strikes again.
Do I have the Baby Blues? Doubt it. Did I feel like bawling all day? Yep. Sometimes checklists at Public Health aren't very helpful in determining the correct diagnosis.