Ativan yesterday worked pretty well. Managed to muster a smile before bed. Also was able to just sit and watch The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. Falling asleep during Dame Judi Dench is akin to sacrilege. She didn’t raise a smile from me, no matter how cute the film was – which it was. But I appreciated the sentiment, even tho I couldn’t share in the feeling.
*sigh* So far, so okay. I actually wanted to get up out of bed this morning for coffee. At least my caffeine addiction hasn’t weakened.
Pushing ahead. Feel like a snow plough, moving a ton of fucking cold assed snow before me. And it’s piling up. Mental prep time is off the fucking chart right now. Getting my shoes on takes effort.
I’m in denial over the depth of my own depression. I can’t call this current state depressed. I know it qualifies; I went out and *shiver* read the material. Classic fucking depression. This isn’t depression to me. I can still function. Depression is when I can’t do anything but cry. Depression is when I can’t think of anything other than ending my own life. This! This is a mild summer’s day compared to the freeze-out of depression. But according to all the reading, I’m in trouble.
Welcome to my fucking life.
This is what happens when someone is taught there’s nothing wrong with them. Everyone goes through what you go through. I heard that a lot. Meant to toughen me up, make me feel like a shit for not trying. In fact, that’s ALL I heard when I fell into a state like this. Pull up the boot straps and get to work, you lazy spoiled bitch. How dare you feel ‘bad’. Everyone feels ‘bad’. Everyone feels ‘worthless’ sometimes. Get it together. You’re not special. You’re no different than anyone else, so all the tools used by the masses should work for you, too. Stop your bitching.
And all those phrases? Yeah. Heard them too. A lot. Hard for me to drop at this point in life.
Went out shopping with my bro to stock up on a few items before Xmas. Actually, I wanted ‘nibbles’ and my bro suggested I go down to get my own ‘nibbles’. Passed by the very worst of what I could have bought – a thin layer of cake that passes itself off as a BIG piece of cake because it’s got three cups of whipped cream poured on top. Whew. Almost broke down on that one. Walked out with 4 chocolate muffins – Dutch chocolate, so you know it’s divine – and a very light angel-food like cake with a simple powdered sugar dusting on top. I feel good about that. It’s not like I need the extra calories right now – or ever. I don’t. But I wanted a ‘treat’. I was feeling left out of the holidays. I managed to satisfy myself without going overboard. That’s some kind of a victory, right there.
The saddest part of yesterday was that I never got that high off swimming. I never felt exalted and energized. I’ll keep doing it; keep swimming and keep walking and getting exercise. I ain’t feelin’ it. Just goin’ thru the motions.
Well. Motions or not, it’s the tiny things that make up life. Not the big shit. Big shit happens, but those are just markers. It’s this day to day crap, this waiting for the big stuff that is really and truly life. Anything else and you’re delusional.
My life is so small. I wanted a large life, with lots of people and things to do. When you’re a kid, you imagine life as an adult and you only concentrate on all the big stuff – parties, staying out late, driving a car, living alone, holidays. Not that small stuff: doing dishes and going out in the cold and rain ’cause you GOTTA and paying bills. But you get more of the latter than the former over time. And you begin to see that your life is just doing dishes and going out in the cold and rain when you don’t want to. I suppose someone pays bills. That particular adult action is not part of my trivial life. Too irresponsible. Couldn’t handle it. Broke down. Shoot the horse; she’s down in her tracks. Yep. All the stress piled up on me in my 40s and I lost like I never lost it before. Now I’m scared, I no longer have that responsibility, and I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to conquer my fear and manage my own affairs.
So I sit, day after day. Not worrying about bills, just receiving an allowance from my bro. I really do feel about 5 years old.
*sigh* But honestly. I don’t want that particular responsibility back. Don’t want to face all the bill paying and scrimping. Just tell me what’s left to play with. That’s all I want to know. Everything else depresses me.
Still can’t handle it.
Here’s where I want to insert some prayer to take my life, some supplication to ease my pain. That’s there, yes – my desire to just stop this, and in classic depression mode the only real way I see of stopping it is through death. Fine. Let’s just delay it another day, then. Get one more laugh in. Enjoy one more good meal or piece of cake. The great thing about death is it’s always there, always available. (Goddess, I sound depressed to myself. Turn this around!)
Right. Battle engaged. This isn’t the war, just a battle. I may fall back, I may take a few hits. I’m not losing this war. I’m in this for the long haul.