Weeks go by. I try to recognize my thoughts and feelings as they are happening. Days inch by slowly. I ride the slow waves of up and down. Hours go by and I live from moment to moment.
It’s hard to conceptualize time. It’s ever constant, always passing by. I don’t always like that it continues and time is not always my friend. I tend to see it as my enemy, as a pain in my back that nags with a dull sensation mixed between fear, anger, hate and dread. When I am laying in my bed doing nothing but spending monumentous amounts of energy just to stay there, I toss and I turn and check the time every hour or so. Time is not my friend. It’s against me. It mocks me. It wants me to run for joy but I run for fear. What is it that I am afraid of? I am afraid of living my life is what it boils down to. Because I’m still, still, still not used to a life without hurt and pain. It has been three years since I put that dreadful existence behind me, started new. But what does it all mean? Why am I here? What is my purpose in this life?
Since I wrote that last paragraph, I have been on a new medication called Wellbutrin. Within a week of starting this, I felt as if a cloud had been lifted from my being, and that there is some positivity to my life now. It is a drastic difference. And as much as I hate my living situation, I managed to go see a unit for rent. I applied. It’s a huge step forward. The place is not as nice as what I have lived in before, but it is suitable and it would work. I just want to live away from here and feel like I am independent.
I met a nice man. We are becoming friends, I think. I just hope he continues to be nice and doesn’t try to make any moves to move quickly before I am ready. I want to take this very slowly.
I can’t believe I am supporting myself, paying my own rent, going to work, possibly going back to school soon. I can’t believe it. It’s so much pressure so succeed and to keep going and at the same time it is amazing.
My grandmother who lived overseas isn’t alive any longer. Sometimes I think of her, and what a long, full, rich life she had. Her life was filled with people who loved her and who would help her. I want to be half as loved as she was. Sometimes I forget that I am loved. I spoke tonight with my Poppa, who isn’t my real father, but someone who adopted me as his daughter several years ago, took me under his wing. I had no idea that someone in his own family has depression. I did not realize it. Anyway, he reminded me that he loves me, and it was nice to hear. He has four sons and no daughters and it’s nice to think of me as his sometimes-daughter. We’re both not great at keeping in touch – he had to move away out of state. But the once-in-a-while phone call is meaningful.
I went to my support group tonight. As much as I think I’m okay without it, and not going, it does help to go. It helps to hear about other people struggling the same struggle that I have, and it helps to see familiar faces. And I get to see my therapist tomorrow night. It has been several weeks since our last meeting and I am very much looking forward to it.
No existential thoughts tonight.
I haven’t been around my computer for a week so I haven’t written a much-needed blog until now. It’s the new year and I’m not feeling new anything. I didn’t celebrate the holidays. I just stayed in bed. It’s what I do. I stay in bed. And I hate my life. I hate living. I wish I could just die somehow peacefully in my sleep. Yet, my mom fought so hard to give us a good life. I couldn’t do that to her. So what now? Go to work, a job that I hate, a job that I can barely tolerate to do what? Earn another days’ wages so that I can live independently and not off the state? It’s too hard to get government assistance anyway, and it’s not enough to live off of. Certainly not if I want to eat in restaurants.
I don’t know what to do with my life. That has been my conundrum for the last six months. Do I go back to school and do something I’m really interested in? I hate where I live. Do I move in with a 55-year-old male roommate who believes the 1930’s depression is going to hit again soon? Like this year. That’s who I recently interviewed with. I don’t know. It’s bad in my current living situation so I’m almost wanting to move anywhere. I don’t even have to be on the lease, which is good, because I recently filed for bankruptcy and getting on a lease would be hard. But then not being on the lease means I’m there not legally and he said nothing has to be in writing. That’s not good. I don’t know what to do! Help me!
I don’t like living. I don’t like being alive. It doesn’t matter where I live. I still won’t like living. So what do I do when I am feeling like this? How do I keep living when I just really don’t want to? I can’t lose my job so I’m just going to go to work tomorrow, Monday. And the next day. And I get to see my therapist. Things have to get better, right? Today I am asking a lot of questions because I don’t have the answers.
I feel oppressed. I feel the weight of the world on me. It’s too difficult to drag myself out of bed. So I spend my days off in it. I don’t have any hobbies any more. I don’t work out at the gym, except once a month. I’m not an interesting person! No one would want to spend time with me. And those that do, it confuses me why they do it. What is wrong with me? Help me. Just help me. I am in despair and I cannot seem to pick myself up.