Expletive.

I sit and I wait for it to come. Most of the time it doesn't come. But I'm always waiting. Watching for those little signs that it's on it's way.

Today I've seen many. Today found me literally rocking and using all of my energy and focus to breathe in and out. I couldn't take care of my kids. I couldn't make dinner. I couldn't even make a simple decision. I was just frozen focusing on not throwing up. On not going over the edge into insanity.

I scared my daughter because she thought I was "really going crazy this time". That hurts so bad I can't even put it into words. I can't describe the feeling of disgust for myself that I get when I think that I made that little girl, who should be thinking about ponies and Barbies, worry that her Mama was going to go clinically insane. I hate myself for that.

Why can't I just force myself to get up and get over it? Why can't I just power it out? What is this nasty bullshit and why won't it just leave me the hell alone?! And how many times have I cried out to God to take this away from me? WHY is this still breaking me down piece by piece and hurting my family? When will this make sense?