I need my time and me

I need me. I'm working on it. Some of my head cobwebs have cleared out and I can now follow a simple recipe, so I've made chocolate fudge cake for the family for Sabbath dessert (well, for those who will eat chocolate, at least):

My new psychologist gave me homework for the week, to work on talking back to all the negative thoughts that fill my head all the time. Yes, it's pretty much all negative, all the time. We don't expect I'll be able to turn things positive, that's too much to ask, but I'm to work on neutralizing it at least. 

The thing is, I feel so inadequate, so much a failure, in many ways. My kids are spending the summer as couch potatoes because I can't send them to camp, can't take them out, can't even manage to take them to the pool on days I try to do any other thing(s) as simple as making a cake. I can't take them to friends'. I can't take them fruit picking. I can't take them to the farmers' market. I can't take them hiking. I can't do any of the summer things I feel I should be able to do with them to enrich their time. I feel they're losing out because of me.

The younger one is under there, just mindlessly playing on
electronics.

The psychologist has emphasized how much my life is the way it is because it has had to be that way. With children with medical issues, with six children, with serious depression of my own, there is no way I was going to be a hot-shot high powered professional at this point; just being the mother who has kept all six of her children alive and surviving and mostly thriving has been more than a full-time all-encompassing job. I am struggling with letting go of the image I always had though of what I was "supposed" to look like at this point in life.

The older one isn't exactly challenging himself reading
Garfield comics. His mother should be providing more for
him, but she can't.

Meanwhile, I really can't find my own mind. I can't cope with even the smallest noises. The motion of other people likewise gets too much for me but not as badly as sound. I can't think. I couldn't find my baking pans this morning; if you know how many hours I've invested in baking over the last 25 years or so you know how absurd and disturbing that is. I'm not myself and I hate it. I want myself back. I deserve myself back. I may not claim to deserve much, I'm trying not to be an entitled brat when I'm already having to spend so much of my time sitting on my butt staring into space because my head can't handle accomplishing anything more, but I deserve my own thoughts and feelings. It's a horrible feeling to have lost them and to still not have them back.

This isn't uplifting, and it's not even positive; it's not exactly negative about myself though. I didn't cause myself to be empty. I don't want to be leaving my kids bored and uninspired. I want to be the mother they deserve, and I'm doing my best. I know I'm improving cognitively. I hope it starts to go faster. School will start in a few weeks and they'll be intellectually challenged and spending time with peers even if I haven't healed enough to accomplish anything. The kids will get by, they'll survive. It's the best I can do and I'm doing it.