I lie in the bath and cry. Because I just don't see the point in getting through the day when tomorrow is more and more statistically likely to be just the same. And then I fall asleep and really screw it up by being disorganised for most of it.
Didn't used to be like this. There used to be good times. Used to be longish periods where I did things, looked forward to waking up, bounced out of bed ready for whatever might happen. Don't know why it changed, or even when it became more likely for the day to be something to survive. Just...somehow over the past ten years, it happened.
I know the things that I should be doing. Exercise. Regular sleep and meals. No alcohol. Take meds. Be sociable. Fall in love.... Doesn't make any difference though. Can be doing all of those one day, and the next it's face first into the wall again. And I am stunned by it every time - why, when nothing has happened since yesterday. Why, when I'm doing everything right. Why.
Coming up for three years with this one, with two short breaks. No timeout this year. I am getting so good at the camouflage. Not good enough to fool myself though. It's as if I flip a switch, for the minutes that I have to spend with people. Turn a personality on, talk crap, watch from deep inside while the walking, talking j-doll performs. Go outside for a smoke, go to the toilet, drive off with whatever bird I have just fetched... and cry. I have made such a work of art - and it seems to get further away from being me every time I display it.
I cry in the bath because by 7 in the morning, I just don't know how I am going to get to the end of a day that has barely started. I cry because I am 43, and in spite of the ways I find to abuse my body, and the risks I take, I am robustly healthy.
I cry because if I don't end it soon, it seems that I'm likely to have another 30 or 40 years of this crap. And when a day of being me is more than I can envisage, a lifetime is just not possible. If someone else were to kill me, their punishment would probably not be as long.
Most days I wish I wasn't....
About Me
- jcat
- South Africa
- Fat, forty-plus, single and boring. I work part-time in IT, and part-time as a wildlife rehabilitator. Mostly, I guess, what I work at is surviving Bipolar. Type II, which means I never get to go out being wild and maxing out the credit cards -instead I seem to be living in a smaller and smaller circle of depression. One day, if I get lucky, I'll disappear into myself - meantime, it's just trying to get through now. With a lot of help...
widget baby
gimme toys... more...more...and another one!
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1 comment:
Jcat,
I am sorry you're feeling so bad. My depression has been eerily similar in that the longer I am depressed the less I have those good moments...but they WILL happen. You will find relief...it's just crappy it takes so long to find medications and treatments that help.
Keep doing the good things you do when you can (but try not to feel guilty if you are unable to). That amotivation is the nature of this stupid illness. My pdoc says doing the things that are good for us when we are able to acts like money in the bank...everytime you do something to take care of yourself it acts like a reserve that makes you more resilient when you are unable to do those things.
...aqua
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