As the depression closes its grimy fist around what is left of my self-esteem i wonder if i should bother to make it through this time.
God knows ive got enough great reasons to get out of bed; two beautiful daughters, as stalwart and loving of a partner as one could ever hope for… Not homeless, nor starving.
Just that when im asleep is the only time im not constantly berating myself. No wonder im tired… Ever tried to have an argument for twelve hours with someone who ranks similarly in stupidity to you??
Its like the only familiar place in my life is my bedroom… The safest place is in my bed under the covers. Its cold, sitting up hurts, going outside makes me anxious; thinking about going further than the front steps makes me want to hurl.
Will today be the day i actually DO something? Will i wrestle myself into a bath? Brush my hair? Be able to stand the feeling of having a toothbrush in my mouth?
Will i clean up a mess instead of just making more? Or just call myself names and make excuses ?
Id like to make dinner; meatloaf and mashed potato and corn… Id like to get up and have breakfast and feed the baby. But if im awake im going to fail. Stupid, right? I know.. But the dialogue of depression and anxiety isnt logical or useful or uplifting; it is a cage, a maze, a trap that gets more restrictive when you struggle.
And i am the rat.
They call me crudini. I dont do escape artist tricks…you’re not gonna see me smile while breathing in water as I simultaneously throw up a bunch of handcuffs keys…some times the being underwater staring up into a slippery shadow of somebody else’s problem s is more peaceful than hearing the prattle of my broken down stoop shouldered meek hearted lament.
You know, i was happy with myself that day. Because i did make meatloaf.
Then about a week later, i went shopping for food, made it to my shrink appointment and had a bit of a medication change.
Its totally different now. Im not sleepy all the time….im not used to being myself yet… 18mths is a long time to feel useless vague and trapped.
Im still unable to cope with ” life” as normals do.
But its okay, some days now the fragments of self coalesce for a while. Its never going to be a stable, useful or particularly successful life…im an egg and life is a jenga playing humpty dumpty for a fool. Negativity? Safety? Will my fraying fumbly threads bear the pull and push of other people?
Experience has taught me that they don’t.
Sensible thoughts aren’t here to stay. That eventually i will panic and turn tail fleeing hurriedly into hibernation.
That trust and faith and belief in myself isn’t smart money…
That my memories and every part of me is going to disappear
Like i was just a shadow and whats the use of being,of trying, of fighting the darkness every damnable day. Everyone has watched me fall and flail again and again.
The only gullible fools still believing i can are just delusions.
Theyre the dangerous dreamers lurking within
Ive tried to lock em out but they keep jumping back in.
Its the pits when you can see the hole, but cant stop yourself from falling into its clutches. But im not finished trying yet. So if they all end up laughing, pointing and ridiculing what does it matter. Theyre probably not even aware i exist anyway…why would they be bothered enough to care about lil ole me?
best way to avoid paranoia is to open your curtains an tell your demons you dont care what they say, see, or do.