I feel that even the mere mention of suicide is selfish. So, here I am feeling down and depressed and...selfish. I try to find reasoning. I work on finding a connect in my life where I otherwise feel so utterly disconnected. From the outside looking in, most things seem fine. I am married with three beautiful kids. My marriage is ok, we have our struggles, especially since coming forward with my depression and trying to cope with it while also searching for a method of medication that works while we peel back the layers and extract that little leech that's killing me from the inside out. Most days I don't feel like doing anything. Work brought on an onslaught of anxiety attacks. I have been on disability and anxiously begin an outpatient program tomorrow. I'm hopeful, though skeptical. I've prayed and prayed again and I know God will be there to navigate me through this. I feel selfish when I lie down in bed at night and find zero interest in being intimate with my husband. Not because of him -- he is a very handsome man...so much so that I often wonder why he is like a ugly Betty like me. The sex even lacks the normal stimulation, let alone climax. This sucks. With all of the weight I put on him from my muffed up condition, I don't understand why I can't be allowed the ability to give this back. I used to be so hands on with my kids. Reading, writing, letters, numbers, etc. Now, I let set up mindless tips like watching a movie or playing with neighbors rather than engaging. They still love me and they are still so bright, but I feel as though I am cheating them. They deserve a better me. I deserve a better me. I just want to be better.