It is no secret that I suffer from depression and anxiety and have for a long time. I was inspired to write more about it while on the plane to Vegas in May. This is what my life has looked like for more or less the last 7 years. Things are so much better now with my new medication, but I still have days, moments, which resemble this jumble of thoughts and descriptions. These are the day to day feelings, not the energy I am able to conjure to go to conferences once in a while and be social and fake extroversion and dress like an adult and shower like a normal person, put on a little lipstick.
I Wake up
Get Charlotte ready for school.
Get up and out of the house, or do something?
Or go back to bed? Stay in bed
Shower? Probably not. Occasionally, I rarely leave the house, so it seems inconsequential.
Eat? I have to, I am diabetic. I eat the minimum. Or I eat crap. Or I eat too much? Sometimes I throw up.
I left the house! I bought groceries. But I’m spent. Take out for dinner.
Workout? Yes. Drag ass put of bed. Put on tight pants. Will feel so much better afterwards. Then make dinner?!
Or no. Shaking. Rocking back and forth. Tachycardia. Toilet. Sweating. Freezing. Scared. Paralyzed. Call and cancel. Paying $60/hr for a long panic attack. What I will owe my trainer for missing an appointment.
Play with Charlotte. Want to kill tv show. Want to kill all pokemon. Seriously. Horrible. Agitated. Impatient. Better to hide.
Or snuggle and play and draw and make paper dolls.
Sex? I am Fat. No. Haven’t shaved legs. Nay showered since? Want to sort of. Should. Love. Intimacy. Closeness.
Coffee with a friend. Leave the house? Involves changing out of pajamas and shower. Only home is ok. Safe. Sloth.
Blog. About what? Despair? Repetitive.
Sleep? It’s nighttime now. Daytime nap killed me. Despair. Mind goes dark. Or watch tv for hours. Eat. Spend. Shop online.
Ignore diabetes. Eat poorly. Too much. Wrong things. Don’t check blood sugars. Don’t get blood work done. Put off doctor appointment. Again.
Test sugars faithfully! eat my protein! work out! low carbs!
How fast would I have to go to kill myself driving into that concrete meridian? the airbag would probably save me. I could never use a gun. I do have lots of pills and tequila.
Obsess about weight loss or gain.
The only thing that I always do is have clean laundry around for my family.
Negative self talk about lack of ability to drag self out of depression, DO things, see people, cook, clean, make love to my husband, cherish my daughter. Feelings of failure. Crying jags.
Sometimes I shower and get dressed and put on some lip gloss just so my psychiatrist sees that I am not a total cockup all the time.
* * * *
Since my new medication a few months ago, I feel better than I have in seven years. I feel like the day to day is easier. I am cooking dinner more, occasionally posting to the web log. Getting out of the house. Better. Getting better. I have had to re-evaluate what I want my life to look like. I never imagined being here. Not working, coming out of a serious, severe, medication resistant depressive state with constant anxiety. Now that I do not feel awful so much of the time I can do other things, but what? That is the process I am in right now. It is slow. I am getting help from a psychologist, Mark, other friends, both online and in my “regular” life. I want to sew, I want to write, I want to cook, I want to paint, I want to take care of myself and my family. Step by step. Occasionally I trip. It is still scary and new. I am like a 41 year old baby. What should I do? The fact I can even ask myself and others is a reason for joy.
Maui, April 2011