I HATE DEPRESSION…
My mental illness is anything but quiet. In spending a short time with me you would start noticing strange things. The first thing you might notice is my inability to leave my room. My boyfriend has had friends over several times before I met them. And I was home. I often wonder how he explains this to people. He probably tells people he’s trapped in this crazy hellhole with me against his will and to please help him escape! He’s the “Paul Sheldon” and I’m the “Annie Wilkes” in this scenario. In fact, my boyfriend has the ability to piss me off to the point where I could probably break his legs to keep him from escaping if he catches me in the wrong mood. (Perhaps that should be struck from this post)
My symptoms of Major Depressive Disorder are at times so severe it’s terrifying for me. I can only imagine how horrible it can be for him or anyone else in my little world. The symptoms are usually the same when I am in the throes of this mental state.
No appetite, or I eat everything in site.
Ability to fly off the fucking handle (I’m sure this is my boyfriends favorite).
In short, I am a wonderful person to be around.
I’m a mess right now. My meds aren’t working (if I remember to take them), I have been avoiding my therapist along with the rest of my mental health team, my family and I aren’t really speaking right now, and my house is a disaster. I feel myself unraveling. It’s a horrible situation only worsening with every passing week.
The worst part of this episode right now is how incredibly overwhelmed I feel. This feeling only gets worse due to my inability to do anything. Things keep piling on. I go further into debt, my house gets messier, dirtier, and I avoid everyone, including my children. It gets to the point that it’s embarrassing to reach out because it’s been so long. I’m ashamed. The shame adds to my downward spiral and leads to the mother of all shitty feelings. GUILT… I feel like the worlds most awful mother. I should be able to pull myself up by my bootstraps and face my life. So why can’t I? How can I be aware of what I need to do yet be so powerless to do anything about it? If anyone figures this out, let a bitch know.
I really need to find a part-time job somewhere. This brings a whole new set of stress and anxiety. What if I simply cannot do it? The thought of failing at a little part-time job horrifies me. I’m not sure I can handle another failure. What I would love to do is write for pay! That seems unattainable since I basically journal my thoughts and feelings for the world. I’m not really writing anything of real substance. I’m so afraid to fail that I do nothing and that leaves me with my second most terrible feeling. Uselessness…
I have to get it together, and I know I will. Thank God I have the love and devotion of this man. I don’t know what I would do without him. So, to all of you suffering right now and wallowing in your own bullshit, know that you are not alone. We will get better and these feelings are temporary. Repeat that to yourself over, and over again. It will get better. It has to, right??