My depression is sinking fast. I am fighting – clawing, grasping, anything to keep my head above water but something is weighing me down, dragging me under. It’s so much effort to push through the surface for that next breath of air. It feels like there is a pit in the center of my chest and it sucks away any hint of joy, it drags the tears from my eyes so I can’t release my pain, it even grabs at my throat choking me. I don’t feel the sharp sting of severe agony like usual, this is a dull, quiet hell I’m in now, paved with boredom and listlessness. My life is passing me by and I can’t even be bothered to watch it go.
Staring at the ceiling
Making friends with shadows on my wall
Hearing voices telling me
That I should get some sleep
Because tomorrow might be good for something
-Unwell, Matchbox 20
I have a playlist titled Depression. When my depression is acute this usually kicks me out along with a good cry. The depression I’m in now is not so cooperative. I can’t even cry. It’s a chronic soul sucking monster of a black hole. I don’t know which one is more dangerous: sharp and short (usually accompanied with a dysphoric mania) or this long slow sense of slowly falling into oblivion.
I’m making an effort to “fake it until you make it”. I (eventually) get up in the morning. With great effort, I take a shower. I do my PT exercises. I keep all my appointments. Yesterday I went to lunch with a friend. I dressed up in nice slacks and sweater. I wore heels and foundation. (No eye makeup, I had an eye exam later that day.) I looked good but I felt like crap. I enjoyed lunch – I’m starving for contact with the outside world but I can’t seem to get off my couch to go out there. It’s just too much work. I had a therapist appointment afterwards. I told her my psychiatrist is watching me carefully for switching while we rapidly ramp up the Paxil. I told her (my therapist) that I must look worse than I thought. She said from the outside I look great. Until she looks at my face. There’s a sadness and pain in my eyes. Eyes are the windows to the soul.
Why is Paxil not working??? Did they give me a fucking placebo by mistake? I feel like slamming my head against the wall. Maybe I can jump start the chemicals. Shake something loose. Like when your candy bar gets stuck on its way out of the vending machine. A good shove will shake it loose. Paxil always works. Why is it not working this time???????????????????
Maybe a part of it is that I am feeling my age. I had to get my first pair of bifocals. $244. It sucks to get old. But I had to knuckle under and do it. Putting my glasses on top of my head is really getting to be a pain in the ass. One more body part(s) to fall apart. I can’t lose my sight. I don’t think I would have anything to live for then. I’ve already got Pars Planitis (an inflammatory eye disease), floaters, I’ve had a retinal tear, and I have a small epi-retinal membrane. My eyes are about 40 years older than the rest of me.
I think having to admit that I need bifocals just added to the list of things making me feel like crap. I already procrastinated for two years, but there’s no avoiding it anymore. I need bifocals.
I’m getting old.
I’m getting old before my time.
Will I live long enough to retire?
Will I ever find a job I can stand that long?
Every day is a struggle. I’ve been in worse situations in my life and not felt this bad. This level of depression has only hit me a few times before: during an abusive relationship, after I left that relationship, when I was unemployed, and now. Why now? I’ve got medication coming out of my ears. I take nine prescription medications. NINE. That does not include supplements. I hate answering the question: how is your general health? Excellent, Good, Fair, Poor. How the hell do I answer that question? I have so many (weird) things wrong with me but do fairly well despite it all.
Imagine if I had had children and passed on all these weird genetics? Bipolar would be the least of their problems. At least, some of the time. Other times, it’s the worst of the beasts.
All of these thoughts are traipsing through my mind. They aren’t running, scattered to the far corners, sprinting and chasing like mania. No, I feel the furthest thing from mania. I feel hollow, my mind just rambling along and my fingers telling you about it.
I guess it’s time for my rambling to come to an end for today. I hope you all are doing better than I am.
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