There are so many things going on in my mind. How to start? Where to start? What angle to take? With whom will it all resonate? Will anyone read my post? Scream. My mind screams at times. And then I just have to take a deep breath. Everything is going to be okay. At least, I can tell myself that and if I say it enough times I might begin to believe it.

Self care. It’s not going very well. Better, today. I showered. I somehow get away with showering twice a week. Thursdays and Sundays in the evening. I’m going to try to make it more. I tell myself I need to shower. But, seriously, people, depression kills the will to do anything. Depressed people sometimes have a hard time showering. I don’t know what it is, but I know that I’m not alone. It’s not that it’s a difficult task to do, and it was the one thing I set out to do this weekend, and what did I do? I stayed in bed all weekend. Literally. I got up to pee twice, once a day Saturday and Sunday. “Your poor bladder” was all my friend could say. It’s true. My poor body.

I finally put on a clean shirt tonight. I had been wearing the same shirt to bed and its’ time had long since expired as a shirt one should be wearing, at all, period, end of story. So it’s in the hamper and I must say, it feels and smells great to have on a clean shirt. Amazing what difference it makes. I cut my finger nails. They were getting long and I always have them short, as short as possible. I can type better now. I don’t know how anyone does anything with longer nails. That’s just my opinion. Women have long nails all the time but I could never do it. Men, just imagine how handicapping it would be, trying to work around even three millimeters of extra nail in daily tasks. No, thank you.

I cried in group tonight. I was the last to go. I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk, but in the end, I wanted to be heard and to be cared for. The people who are in the support group are validating and caring, and I was with the right people this time. There are two group rooms, and sometimes I think I end up in the wrong room. I went at the end, and people were having to leave and although logically I told myself that people were leaving because of the time, I couldn’t help but think, was it something I said that made them leave?

Baby cuddling. I need to do it again. Whatever it takes, however long the application process takes, I need to do this again. It brought so much meaning to my life when I was doing it five years ago. Literally, you go into the NICU and they have one baby cuddler on shift and you find a compassionate nurse who knows that her babies need to be cuddled, and you cuddle babies for four hours straight, once a week for six months or however long you can commit. I did it for a year and a half and it saved me. It was such good therapy. I need it again. I met some amazing babies… very young human beings. New life is so precious and it needs to be cherished. I hope to bring new life to the world one of these days.

Mondays are always with mixed feelings for me, because I don’t like going to work, and I don’t particularly like the work that I do, but it gets me out of bed and I spend my weekends in bed. I don’t like being in bed all day and doing so makes me feel worse about myself. I could at least get up for an hour and read a book, go to a coffee shop, do something, but no, I stay in bed and it is disheartening to watch myself do this weekend after weekend. But somehow I manage to go to work every day, even though the thought passes by without fail, that I could call in sick today, or even quit my job and stop going. That would be terribly irresponsible, as they depend on me in my assistant position to be there, and I get paid to be there to answer to the client needs and demands. We get some interesting, angry clients calling in every once in a while and whereas it makes the day more diverse task-wise, it’s actually not fun.

I just wish I would stop sleeping all the time. I seem to need the sleep at times, and then other times, it’s just too much sleep. I don’t sleep well at night because I sleep during the day. My therapist says, from what I understand, that it’s because I’m trying to assert myself, somehow. My sleeping and staying in bed is a way of screaming, “I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do!” and there is a part of me that still doesn’t want to live, or do things that living people do, like getting out of bed and showering and doing laundry. I don’t want to be told what to do but then I think about being in the hospital where I can be taken care of and they would definitely tell me what to do in there. But being in the hospital is expensive and I don’t need it any more. I’m still not quite used to that. I used to need to be in the hospital because I was suicidal but I am not suicidal any longer. I don’t want to kill myself. That’s a huge step forward in my life. But I am in recovery and my last episode was just a year ago. I want to be better. I want to get better. I want to feel better. I want to be a better me and I want to be loved and cherished and respected and safe. Everyone deserves those things.

I think it’s time I got a boyfriend. I tried that a few months ago and I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of having to force myself out of bed for the man. He was attractive but I didn’t like that he snored and there were some other aspects that I wasn’t okay with. I’ve been toying with the idea of asking this guy out who works in my office building. It’s not for the same company, so that’s okay. But he’s not that attractive to me. He’s just so polite and respectful and charming! Maybe. There was a man at the grocery store who was attractive too, and I wanted to ask him, are you single? I keep running into these episodes of wanting to ask someone on a date, so one day, I might actually do it. I’ll keep thinking about it and I’m sure there will be future posts about it. With that, I say, adieu.


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