I don't know what to say...

Basically, I am at a complete and utter loss right now. The weight I feel upon me is almost tangible. I know that it's the depression sneaking its way back into me. What triggered it, exactly, I cannot say for sure.... But I know that seeing one of my all time favorite shows come to an end tonight was the breaking point. No more ER on Thursday nights... My life is over. Yes, those two phrases came into my head, consecutively, in that order, no fillers. I've been feeling this way for weeks, suppressing it as much as possible. When Terry is around, I might be a bit snippy as I scurry to find the "happy" mask, but I really think he's essentially clueless to how bad I've truly been feeling. I want him to be that way. He said that I did seem happier when I was on my meds, so I have gone back on them. Really, honestly, I don't remember any discernable difference in my mind when I was on them. He seems to think so, so I'll comply. Every time I feel like this, I always sit back and wonder to myself, "What IS my problem? I should be happy... at least happier... Why am I so damned upset, distraught, scared, and flat out sad?" I can never come up with an answer. And now I know why the old snap-out-of-it solution doesn't work. How can I snap out of something when I can't even put my finger on the problem? Why do I want to crawl under a rock and drink and smoke myself into oblivion? I don't know. Why have I actually had fleeting thoughts of suicide? Still, no idea. Is it the fact that I feel like there are three HUGE chunks of me missing (Josh, Hannah, and Braedon)? The economy, and the fact that it is seriously affecting my income? Not being able to call Josh on his birthday? Not having the money to get him those rollerblades he wants? Being behind on my school work and not really caring? My sister telling me she's "too busy being a mom" to be taking any classes right now when I am in some form of doctor's visit for my ONE child SIX times a month? My son not gaining weight like he should and being essentially four months behind developmentally because of it? My almost uncontrollable fear that something is going to happen to take my son away from me? Or the fact that I have that fear at all in lieu of the constant stream of compliments I get on how I'm handling him? I guess it's all of it. And none of it. I really, honestly just don't feel like I'm ever going to be good enough to satisfy the people that mean the most to me. Don't be fooled, I'm very good at hiding all this insecurity... At least with people that don't have the time or patience to pay proper attention. Anyone who spends more than an hour actively engaging me can see beyond what I'm saying and doing. I've always been a terrible actress. The worst part about all of this is that I'm the go-to person. I'm the therapist in training who already has clients. I'm the most emotionally together person in my small circle of close friends, or so they think. Actually, I'm just better at repressing my deepest, darkest, most self-loathing thoughts.... for a time. Then, ER ends and they come bubbling to the surface again... And once again, I'm forced to negotiate with myself... The number one reason I keep myself on this planet in this miserable existence is this: My kids are already screwed up. What will killing myself do to them emotionally and spiritually? Trisha and Hannah would be devestated. So would Terry. Josh would crawl deeper inside himself and probably disappear, needing even more extensive therapy than he is already receiving. Junior would never know me as anything but an angry and depressed person, because those are the only times I write. As I tell my friends who have suicidal tendencies, it is the utmost in selfish acts. So, I choose to endure my pitiful excuse for a life for them. Because, as much as I've screwed up... Killing myself would completely screw them up. But, that still doesn't make me feel better. I just flat out don't know what to do anymore. So, I go back on my meds. I wait until Terry and Junior are in bed to break down. I make sure that no one sees me like this, vulnerable, raw, open, bawling, begging for help that can't/won't/doesn't come. Last time I opened up to an actual human being like this... Well, I never have. Why would I? The people whose opinions mean the most to me don't want/need/have the time to hear it/feel sorry/offer advice/give a hug. The people who would understand need me to listen to them more than I need them to listen to me. So, I have myself... And my blog... And I write until I feel better... But this time it isn't working... I only feel worse... Or maybe this is just my way of getting all those emotions out and it's taking longer than usual. I don't know. I still just don't know.