I haven’t written in a while. Stating the obvious, I know…
I believe the Wellbutrin helps, but not always. I am often ” happy,” sometimes for days, and in the middle of this supposed happiness I become so incredibly sad. Seemingly for or no reason. Nothing will trigger it. I feel like a yo-yo.
I wish … I don’t know what I wish to be honest…
Today is one of those days; I have NO reason to feel this way. I always look for something to justify my feelings. The reasons make no sense but I force them to fit the puzzle of my mind so, at the very least, I feel sane.
Perhaps I have given the impression that I am now okay. That I am coping better. That I have better skills to deal with the demons of my mind.
Nothing is further from the truth. I have seldom and random periods of peace, but I am in no way healthy. They are not real.
I just know I am not where I need to be. I know I am not supposed to be here, so why am I?
I am exhausted. I feel out of place. I feel like someone threw me in a tornado and said “here, make sense of this. You better put every single piece back together as if nothing happened, or else.”
Well… I will tell you that “or else” always hits.
Always.
Without fail.
Every single things gets shattered and I am asked to glue it back together, perfectly, without missing the tiniest piece. And I try. God I try so hard. I am always determined to not miss a single piece. Yet I fail. Every single time.
I still hurt… all the time. I am so incredibly exhausted. I tell myself this isn’t real. I know this is not real … but living it “feels” real.
How do you fight against a… “fictitious reality”?
I have been in weekly therapy for a few months. I believe it has helped but I am not always certain of what is real; perhaps therapy is only a placebo. If it is… I’ll take it, because a bit of imaginary relief is better than none.
I feel temporary relief only when therapy ends and a few days after the fact.
But then … then I run full speed into this permanently stationed wall inside my mind.
I see it.
I feel the impact.
I know I should stop running toward it yet I can’t stop myself.
Nothing I do stops me.
Any safety net and any barriers I erect disappear and I hit this wall full speed and I shatter. Into a billion pieces.
Every.Single.Time.
After the impact, I get up and try to pick up every single shattered piece of me and glue it back together. Yet every single time, a single shard goes missing. Therefore, I am never whole again.
Many years ago my primary care physician told me that one never gets over depression. They just learn to manage it. It shocked and saddened me. Hearing and knowing that I will have to deal with this my entire life was paralyzing. Yet here I am.
I wish I was numb. I am not a better person or a better parent in any way. I have lost interest in my children; I am an unfeeling monster. They were my life and now… now I feel like a failure… the lowest of the low.
When my ex-husband suggested he have full custody I felt like I could kill him in that moment and not regret it. The mere thought made me insane.
Yet now… now… I feel guilt when my youngest tells me he misses me so much. And I feel nothing… well, perhaps I feel a bit of guilt which quickly passes. And THAT makes me a monster.
When you see your child every day and he tells you he misses you, you know YOU are the problem.
I was SUCH a fighter. Nothing ever stood in my way. If I wanted it I got it. If someone told me it was not possible, I made it possible. Now…
Now… I’ve just given up. Everything seems hopeless. As I think about it, even as I write this, I know what I am saying and I know these feelings are not real, yet here I am, without any ability to shake this “fictitious feeling” that I should not exist.
How do you overcome your heart when depression turns it to logic? How do you fight an imaginary reality. I know… oxymoron. It’s a rhetorical question.
I suppose I should be grateful that my children are my only anchor, keeping me tethered to life. Sometimes I wish they did not. I wish they did not have such an impact on my life because the lifeline that holds me down is under such pressure that I feel it fraying. It will eventually snap.
The funny things is that I drink to “feel” not “stop feeling.” Drinking helps me feel … human. I feel devoid of humanity when I am sober.
I'm Fine 