I’m struggling. I’m off my medication which includes 25 milligrams of Zoloft.
I haven’t had a crying fit, but while in quarantine I’m in my old neighborhood a good ten blocks away from where I used to live.
Someone from the building recognized me when I was going back to to the hotel and he asked how my family was doing. All I could say was ok. He asked me if I was still living there I said no. Then he asked me if my mother was still living there I said yes. We said our goodbyes, but I miss home. I’m homesick. But I know that my mental health is an endangerment to my two children.
I miss my daughter the most, I miss being a mommy. But I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t be the bread winner and I was feeding my children off a government grant. A stipend to help cut the cost of food. It’s not my son’s responsibility to report his earning to an agency so I could stay afloat.
But I grieve. My heart aches that I don’t even get visitation. This is the hardest thing I ever had to go through in my entire life,and I’m depressed about it.