Bad Day

It seems that at least a few days a month now, and often the whole week before my period too, I feel so depressed and desperate. I feel like it should not be this hard when I'm medicated.  The pain is palpable. I've had to take a few sick days. I feel like my mental illness is becoming debilitating. It's hard to contain my anxiety and maintain the appearance of normal function. It's becoming too large to hide. 

I was already feeling off this morning and trying to figure out how I would make it through the day at work when I got a text. A young woman I worked with was shot and killed this week. She did nothing wrong. Some crazy man shot her.  It adds to the feeling that this world has tilted and has become the hell I sometimes feel I'm living in. 

My thoughts are muddled. I can't even express this turmoil I feel caught in. It's a bad day. I would like more good days please. 

The Disconnect

In the past year or so I have becoming increasingly isolated. Friends that I used to call close I can't seem to keep up with anymore. My mind is easily filled with thoughts that my friends find me to be a nuisance or that they're mad at me. 

I have one friend who admitted to me last year that she had distanced herself from me intentionally. I think she meant my anxiety was too much for her. Since she told me that I feel awkward reaching out to her. I read into her response or lack of response on Facebook to comments I post. I'm not sure if she's genuine when she agrees that we should get together. I'm not surprised that none of those plans have worked out. I saw her the other day and it was awkward. I was awkward. I'm getting more and more uncomfortable in my own skin. So many negative thoughts flood my head. I know that all of my friends can't feel as negatively as my mind tells me right now. I feel trapped by my anxiety. It's taking away my friends. I don't know how to be myself anymore. 

My Procrastination

I like to procrastinate. Maybe that's the wrong way to say it. I feel the need to procrastinate. A deep gripping overwhelming need to procrastinate. As though my life depended on it. I recently had an epiphany about this. I procrastinate to avoid The anxiety. The anxiety is too much.  If I look at my bills then I know that I'll be anxious about money and I'll be anxious about how much I make and I'll be anxious about the coming dentist bill that I can't pay. I think about the taxes I need to file and whether or not I did healthcare right last year. This turns into a worry about how the IRS is going to take away all my tax return. Then I worry about my retirement and how I'm behind on saving for it. Then I think about how I shouldn't file all of these papers floating around my apartment. Which makes me think I need to clean my apartment. If if I clean my apartment then I start to think about all of the things that I need to get rid of or the things I have nowhere to put. And then I think about how I have too much stuff. And then I think about how I have only six months left on my lease and I still haven't gotten everything put away. I'm  going to have to start packing soon.  

So at least now I know where all this avoidance comes from. Perhaps this seems obvious.  But I didn't know why I was sending everything out and hoping that it would go away. I had become such an airhead. I realize now it was self-preservation because there was too much anxiety over every thoughts I hadn't realized that I was anxious all the time. Somehow I missed that this was the over arching feeling. But I feel like I'm finally waking up.  I hope it's not too painful. 

Robin.

I'm not one of those people who thinks of celebrities like I know them and posts about them and their babies and their weddings and whatever like it's my business. I do have certain celebrities that I love as artists, because I like their body of work. Robin Williams is probably one of my all-time favorites. He's one of the first faces I grew to love on TV. No, not as Genie. I'm a wee bit older than that. I loved him as Mork. His wackiness and smiling face spoke to me as a child. I loved seeing him sit on his head, and say "Nanu, Nanu."  I did also love him as a teenager in roles like Mrs Doubtfire and the Genie. He had such a sweet spirit and a humor that seemed to speak to all generations alike.

I remember hearing once that Robin had mental health issues. I believe the rumor had something to do with how he was in and out of mental asylums. You know, the regular mental health stigmas magnified. I didn't worry about it too much one way or another. I've never been huge on digging into a celebrity's personal life. But I knew that he had issues at some point with depression. When I heard he passed away, I feared that it was suicide. I am so sad to have that confirmed. Robin and Mr Rogers came into my home and touched my heart when I was just a little mite. I think because I have felt connected to him since I was little, this news made me especially sad. I hate to think of that seemingly gentle, smiling funny man in such a desperate place. I hate to think of the desperation and darkness he must have been feeling. What ugly thoughts had probably worked their way into his mind and seemed so real and so large that they obstructed any joy. I think that given the recent darkness I've been feeling, it struck a little close to home. In the past year or so, I've felt more despair and loneliness than ever before. The realness of that darkness pinches at my gut when I hear about other people who couldn't make it another day. I feel just a smidgen of that kind of pain that visits me when I'm at my darkest. I wish someone could have been there to take it away from him. I wonder if he prayed, or if he felt no greater power was out there. I have all these thoughts, and then I refrain from posting them anywhere but here, on my secret blog. Because this isn't really about me. And I did not know this man. But I still feel love for the part of him he shared with the world. And I wish he could have found a little hope.

Hey.

It's been a while. I would like to say it's because I've been super busy, but I haven't. Still no job. Lots of interviews. Everyone loves me. Tells me I was a top contender. Then offers job to other candidate. Very frustrating. Very wearing. Not feeling super good about myself currently. Also, you know how there's no extensions on unemployment? Yeah, that sucks too. Not sure what I'm going to do if someone doesn't hire me soon.

I've been noticing about myself lately that there is a serious edge of paranoia to my anxiety. I easily go from sending my friend a text to a minute later thinking that I probably offended them and they aren't answering me right away because I was so inconsiderate and that they are probably tired of me and my depressed ways and they've been distancing themselves from me anyways....

Yeah.  That's depressing. And exhausting. I'm exhausting to ME. But I seriously have been thinking that at least three or four of my friends didn't answer that ONE text message or like some joke I made on their Facebook page because they don't like me anymore. And I have two friends I can think of off the top of my head I'm scared to call because of that. Mind you, I'm not usually that girl. The one that people burn out on. I tend to isolate myself before anyone gets too burned out on my depression. But it could still happen right? That's probably what happened...


And this is how my brain occupies all this downtime.

Happy New Year?

Soooo... I lost my job.

I'm having a hard time with all the optimism out there right now. People on Facebook talking about how great this year is going to be, and how blessed they were last year. People telling me that this is Meant to Be, and that Something Good is out there for me. Um, that's what you said last year. You know, the year I felt like I took up permanent residence in the Pit of Despair, had a horrible streak at work where my boss who I had thought was one of my best friends decided she despised me and in fact could not take the sight of me or the sound of my voice, and then I lost said job. So a really great year. But I'm told Everything Happens for a Reason. Apparently I needed to learn what pain feels like. Lots and lots of isolating horrible pain.

Despite the incredibly bitter tinge to this post, I've actually been doing OK this week. Have been doing a passable job of not wallowing until today, and I have found things to keep me busy and positive. I do feel like I will get a job soon. I just am not excited about it. I'm tired of feeling like Someday this will all make sense. Can one of these lessons conclude so that I can see the point and feel like maybe some of this stuff will have an end?

And Some More Despair

Today I'm feeling pretty despair-y. Things just keep getting worse. In my saner moments, I can see that somehow I'm still standing, and I think that maybe this is a path I need to take that is hard but something I can survive and be stronger and happier for. And junk. But I am also tired. And I have moments where my heart cries out "how much more?"  Could I please have some peace and calm and rightness in my life?

Right now the miracle is probably that I am surviving. And I know I should be grateful. And many moments I am. But other moments, I just feel like the crazy is going to suck me in. And I feel scared. Because I don't know how much longer I can stand.

Anger and Despair

Anger and Despair,
Anger and Despair,
Do dodo dooo
Anger and Despair.

I thought maybe if I made up a cute little song about my crazy, it would be kind of cute and fun. Maybe whimsical. Not so much.

I'm having one of my really angry cranky weeks. I'm feeling some anger toward pretty much anyone who crosses my path. Holy crazy. My sweet, well intentioned man came over last night with the intention of cheering me up. I had to work very hard at not biting his head off. He does not have the experience with depression to understand that the plan of "cheering up" a depressed person does not necessarily work. He did make me feel loved and warm for a minute. But then I think it might have backfired somehow, because we ended the evening with him annoyed with me. I'm not even totally clear on what it was that he was upset about. I'm not saying he was upset for no reason... but I have no idea what I did. I was trying very hard not to be irritable and angry with him. I don't know if he felt like I was being cold because I was holding back... I'm not really sure.

I hate how my depression seems to cripple my relationships. Bleh.

Stupidity

I made a huge mistake. And continue to make it. It's interesting what loneliness and isolation can drive you to. Even in this anonymous space, I can't admit what I did. It's too big, and too ugly, and yet to most of you would not be as big and ugly as it is for me. But it is big and ugly to me. And I hate that even a few trusted friends even know. I feel like this road of depression has lead me to be a person that I never meant to be. I never wanted to be this. But I can't seem to be who I want to be, even when I try with all my might. Is it just me, or is the world getting uglier? I feel like the whole world is slowly going crazy. Or maybe that's just me.

Thievery

I am fully convinced now that Depression steals from people. I have had whole parts of my identity stolen from me. That's not to say I can't get them back. But it is trying to take things from me. It is greedy, and it grabs at things, and holds onto them tight, and hopes that I will forget I once owned those things.

Like what? For one, my interests. I like to cook. But it has been so long since I've truly been able to remember the pleasurable parts of cooking that I have lost a lot of my cooking skills. People who I would characterize as good friends, and people who hardly know me, all think that I don't know how to cook, and that I don't really enjoy it. It surprises me and irritates me when I discover this attitude and belief in people. It is frustrating when my friends give me the same look my mom used to give me when I said I wanted to sew a quilt (she's seen me with a sewing machine--straight lines are harder than you think!) when I say I like cooking. I do like to cook. But even now, as the meds are returning me to a place of balance where I have interest in DOING things again, I struggle to make that true again. Because I've forgotten how somehow. And I can't think what to do. I have vague intentions of doing it again, and more often. But I feel deeply rooted in the rut in which I have entrenched myself.

It also has stolen my happiness. And I don't just mean the ability to feel it from day to day. I mean, while I've been so deeply immersed in a dark and dreary existence, I missed LIFE. I didn't choose things that maybe would have put me in better places. I seem to have lost some of the bonds with friends and loved ones that kept us bound to each others' daily lives. I'm alone. Other people around me seem to have managed to end up happy and WITH people, and DOING things. I do things, but alone.

I can't quite fully articulate what depression has stolen. People who have never felt it will often say, or privately think, that we are responsible for the loss we experience when we allow things to happen TO us. I don't dispute that. I have let a lot of things happen to me. I have been in those deep dark places where I don't care, because of a crazy chemical imbalance. It is all my fault my life is not different. And at the same time, it is NOT my fault. I have control over where I am, but I don't have control. I feel both ways. In my healthy moments, I can see what I should have done. But in those unhealthy moments, I didn't see it. 

So many times, from so many people, I've heard the viewpoint expressed that the dark ugly points in our lives make our lives richer, and deeper, and more the person we are meant to be. And on my sunny days, I agree with this concept, and sometimes even embrace it. But on my dark, desperate, miserable days, I despise this theory. I find it deplorable. What doesn't kill us might make us stronger. Or it might debilitate us and suspend us in our anguish.

I'm Super Sneaky.... Right?

In my life I have observed addiction and the havoc it wreaks on a person. I've seen someone in the early stages, who may succeed in hiding the addiction and gloss over the effects it is having on them. I have seen that same person begin to fail to hid their addiction, but not recognize that everyone can see their addiction. And sadly, I have seen the later stages, where all effort at hiding it are thrown aside, and the addiction has a firm grip on the person, and the effects really start to show. The person is changed by it. Depression can have a similar grip on a person, and I think have some similar effects.

Today I wondered to myself how I appear to others given my depression. I know that there have been moments where I have thought I was hiding the effects, but it was clear to at least those who love me and are close to me that I was deeply depressed. I know that there have been moments where I know the effects are evident to people, and I've not had either the energy or the inclination to attempt to hide the signs . But I don't know for sure how things look in general, and to all those in my lives.

Today, the man I have been dating was supposed to come over. He hasn't been over in a few weeks, and I have not had any other visitors in that time. I'm not going to lie; my house was an absolute wreck. I can be a pretty good housekeeper, especially when I am healthy. But when I am feeling a lot of stress or am really in the thick of my depression, it shows in how I take care of things around me. The chaos in my brain seems to translate to chaos in every aspect of my life. In normal circumstances, gaining some order in the aspects I can control, like my living environment and my office, helps me gain some control over my life (but my control issues are a whole other topic). But when I'm really unhealthy mentally, the physical order does not overcome my broader issues of foggy unfocus, inability to process emotions well, and lack of interest in.... anything. Including succeeding. Success? Not that great to depressed SadGirl.

I can't quite fully articulate the different I feel between healthy SadGirl and unhealthy SadGirl. All those symptoms on the little checklist they have you fill out at the doctor's office to determine the magnitude of your depression seem to have gained new meaning to me in the last year. Because I didn't realize how bad it could really get. And I feel like I've got a firm grasp on just how bad it can get. Am hoping I can move beyond that soon to having a distant memory of how that felt. But I digress.

So, my man is coming over. And I spent about an hour rushing around cleaning things and vacuuming and putting things away and doing dishes and organizing things. Which made me think of addiction. And how I think I can hide my illness. And the man? Super observant and good at noticing things. Which makes me wonder, am I like the crazy addicted person who insists they are not drunk even though they smell like a brewery and slur their words? Is he totally onto me? Also, is this a thing a lot of people dealing with depression do? I feel like I need to google "tips for hiding your depression." Maybe there is a guide for this. Am totally going to do that right now. Right after I click "publish."

Nature

I work with people who talk about "self care" a lot. It's important. I am bad at it. It doesn't help that I live alone, and have no compelling reason to leave work at a reasonable hour a lot of the time. I kind of suck at taking care of myself. This has been compounded in my lack of interest in, you know, life. Recently I've found an interest in life again. This is very encouraging. Things bring me joy, and, dare I hope, peace. I find myself not only excited to make plans, but willing to actually carry them out. I suddenly have the ability to enjoy things again. Mind you, I have not suddenly become an extrovert. Large social events still don't thrill me. Or even small social events, really. But I have rediscovered my love of nature. The last hike I took, my spirit was practically singing. I felt bliss. I did not know that bliss was still a thing! I might have to try this nature thing again.

I Need a Vacation

My friend just left for vacation, and I won't see her for a few weeks.When we parted, I had the impulse to savor the last few moments together, because I was going to miss her. After she left, I pondered why it felt like such a huge deal to part, as thought I wouldn't see her for a very long time. She is always eager to say goodbye to people when vacation is looming.I don't get that. As I thought about that, I thought, I'm never so excited about vacation. But, I also thought, if I was getting a break from me, I would feel a burst of freedom like she seemed to be feeling too. I want a vacation from me. I'm exhausting. I don't blame others for wanting a break from me. This friend wants a break from me. My man wants a break Why can't I have a break? It would be so relaxing. I wish I knew how to do that. .

Choose Me.

Why do I pick the men that don't choose me. If it's between me and some fun thing to do, they choose the thing. That's a sign, I know. Somehow I get really wrapped up in them before they start doing that. And then I don't want to let go, even though they don't choose me. Also they make it my fault that they didn't choose me. So sick of this.

Turns Out Music is Fun

One of the oddest effects of my depression is that Music literally can pain me when I'm depressed. I used to LOVE music. I found it soothing, and it was a great way to relax for me. Then, in my twenties, it was too hard to listen to when I was having a really hard time.  That is when I discovered talk radio and became an Old Person.I have continued to like music over the years, and didn't' realize I was missing anything.But this week, I'm loving music again in a way that I didn't realize I was missing. Who knew.

Make the Jaw Clenching Stop

I have developed this thing in adulthood where I clench my jaw when I  am stressed out, to the point where my jaw gets tired. I have had to learn to stretch the muscles to try to get it to stop hurting. This is not a good sign. Today is a jaw clenching day. I'm so tired of jaw clenching days. I really, really love my job. But I also hate it. I love what I do. But I also hate what I do. I love it because it's a job that helps people. And that is good. I hate it because it is so thankless. Don't get me wrong; I'm not one of those people that needs to be thanked all the time. But it would be great if my coworkers and boss didn't seem to be constantly under the impression that I'm not doing ENOUGH. They tell me that they know I work hard and then in the same day, will tell me what ELSE I should be doing, with the time I do not have. Because what I have done is not enough. There needs to be More. Everything needs to be improved on. No one ever seems to think that I rock at anything. When I say I rocked at something, they have to point out how I, in fact, was only passable in my performance. Because, you know, you can always improve. Like I don't have that constant narrative in my head. I know I can always improve. I am WELL AWARE that I am not perfect, and cannot achieve perfection. But thank you, lovely work people, for driving home JUST HOW FLAWED I really am. Just when I thought I was aware of my flaws and the way I suck, you point out more ways. And my anxiety goes into overdrive. You know this, and you still do it. You're jerks. There, I've said it. And admitting you are a jerk does not mean it's okay to continue being one.

Grr.

I hate Mondays.

Dear World: Walk on Me

I feel like the title of this post must be stamped on my forehead. No, really, it must be. I have been ranted at in a very disrespectful way, AGAIN. By the man who says he loves me and could see himself marrying me. But then he says something that is borderline abusive. And after he judged my aforementioned friend for her very disrespectful words she flung at me.

I think he might be sorry. He called today. All he said was "I wanted to see if you were OK."  I said "yes," because in general I was fine, and I'm stupid and didn't think to say, no, I'm not okay, and the way you treated me is not OK, because I suck at standing up for myself. So I said I was fine, and then I asked if he was okay. He said he was fine. We got off the phone. What kind of conversation was that? Why can't I tell people I'm not okay when I'm not okay? Seriously, I don't know how to do it. I don't know why I don't know how to do it.

I want a do-over. I want him to call again, so I can have a real conversation with him. But I don't feel like I can call him, because I think that might be the co-dependent thing to do, since he didn't apologize and I am not allowed to just try to smooth things over. It's so confusing trying to break a habit when you're not sure where the health stops and the unhealthy starts.

The Road to Healing?

So my friend alluded to in the last post apologized to me. Things got too big and she disappointed other people she really respects with this, and was basically brought down to her knees in the situation. I'm not sure that she would have felt bad if there weren't other people involved. I think she would have. It's all so confusing. I don't know what all her motivations are. I feel like we can't be honest with each other anymore. There are too many things at stake for us. I can't tell her things about my feelings and my life because she has lost my trust. I don't trust her to treat my feelings kindly. I don't trust her to not use the information against me. She says she didn't mean the things she said in the outburst, but I don't know if I believe her. Those thoughts have to have come from somewhere. She seems to have a lot of unkind thoughts about me lately.

I'm so tired. I want her to notice how little she knows about me lately. Those nine kinds of pain I wasn't in last week, when I was in shock? I'm in them now. I think that seeing her today for the first time since the big blowup brought out my feelings of hurt, and I am realizing how deep she cut. I have this horrible, codependent way of always wanting to get rid of conflict and smooth things over, and say things are OK even if they aren't, so that everyone can be happy (except me, but I get a buzz off of others' happiness). This time I'm not allowing myself to be OK with how things went down. I've forgiven her, and I'm not angry, but I'm very hurt, and I've made it clear to her that we need to work through those issues, instead of me just ignoring my hurt and saying it's OK. This is all very foreign to me. I don't like it. I want to just say it's all OK. I want to just have happy conversations and interactions and forget about this. I want her to be comfortable, even though she hurt me so much. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, she cut a little too deep this time, and I can't just forget it. And, honestly, those who know what happened are keeping me accountable, because they have all made it clear that they think I would not be healthy if I just let this be swept under the rug. Nothing like some peer pressure to make you try to do things right. I don't like this. This feels like the hard way. I feel like we've been getting nowhere for so long, I'm scared to try to keep working at it. Trying to keep working at it got me here. She said horrible things. I was trying everything I could think of. I don't want to fight with her anymore. I'm tired of seeing that pinched look on her face, because I frustrate her so much and she dislikes interacting with me so much.

I love her so dearly. I wish that she could feel that way more often about me.

Wherein My Therapist Tells Me I am Not the Crazy One

Things have not been going well at work. Won't go into details here. Suffice it to say that I had a long period where I wasn't functioning very well at all with the depression. And my boss will not forgive it, and thinks the concept of forgiveness, or absolving an employee of past wrongs is not acceptable. Because heaven forbid that someone who screwed up big time and is punishing herself and struggling all on her own is given a break by other people. Let's make sure the pain is all around, constant, and never relents. Until you either die or have a breakdown at work and quit in a messy painful way. Sounds like a solid plan.

Today, things kind of came to a head. Someone I respect, admire, and aspire to be like in some ways told me how little they think of me. I'm still in shock. I can't believe she said the things she did. I talked over the impending meeting with my therapist this morning, and she told me that the person has classic bully characteristics. I'm not trying to see her like that. I have not been describing incidents with her to people to try to make her wrong. I've been trying to figure out what I might be doing wrong, or could do differently. I've been trying to figure out how to repair things between us. I've been trying to figure out what it is she wants to see that I'm not showing her. My therapist told me that I was handling things well, and it sounds like she is the one handling it with emotion, and not dealing with it objectively. I wonder if her therapist would tell her the same thing.

I want so badly for things to be fixed. I don't know if they can be. I think that the relationship may be permanently damaged. I don't know if it would be healthy to want to be her friend if she did apologize. I doubt she will. Somehow, she maintains that the way she treated me and spoke to me today was justified. I can't just say that's OK, because it's not. I don't understand why she reacts the way she does to me. I don't understand why she doesn't seem to desire a resolution. I don't understand what is at the heart of this. I kind of feel like there's more to this than she is admitting. I don't understand where this is coming from.

I feel so numb. Normally I would be feeling nine kinds of pain. I think that I've been feeling it so much the last few weeks that this incident is just keeping the pain at the high level I've learned to function at. I feel like I've got some magical wall up to protect me from this pain. I know this is the heartbreaking kind. I have no idea where we go from here. I don't even know how to look her in the eye. I don't want to see what is there. How could she think so little of me and trust me so little.

Grownuphood is Stupid.

The older I get, the harder adulthood seems to be. I don't understand it. I feel like things were so much simpler, and the rules were so much clearer when I was younger. Friendship was so much simpler, and the rules were clear. I miss the days when I didn't have friends who compartmentalize like some of them do. It seems so fake and dishonest to me. They feel they can be loyal friends while they are disloyal to me in other parts of life. That is stupid. I feel so un-valued. I feel so untrusted. I don't understand how people function treating relationships like this. I don't understand people who are okay with making people's lives miserable in the name of  "doing a good job" at work. How on earth does that equate doing a good job?