Depression is a disgusting thing. Right now I’m in the throes of it.
I don’t know if I’ve ever wrote a blog post like this on Her Bipolar Life.
In the midst of confusion and sadness.
I told a loved one, “I am near rock bottom, emotionally”. It’s that feeling I’ve had more than once, where my exhaustion mixes with horror.
I guilt myself over the things I’ve said and done lately.
I’m in the classic stage where I can’t do anything right. I think I’m pushing people away by my behavior.
I probably am.
And there’s nothing I can do.
I’m guilty. Again and again.
I see the looks on the faces of the people around me, and it makes me feel horrible.
And then I feel resentment.
I don’t want to feel this way. Who would?
Deep depression is one of the loneliest states on Earth.
It is hard to relate to anyone.
Nothing really seems worth it, and giving up seems like a nice alternative.
I want to lie in my bed by myself for days.
The hustle and bustle, the unforgiving world is beginning to weigh upon me.
My loved ones don’t understand. This is a pattern I can’t defeat.
I can’t feel alone like this forever. Sometimes I wonder why I’m here.
This can’t be it. This can’t be the point of my life.
I’m too tired, though, to live any other way.
Change? I need to rest.
I don’t trust anyone. I’m in pain and I don’t have the energy to do anything about it.
I know I need to see a doctor. And I will.
I am looking toward tomorrow, to begin to find someone new.
Someone that will help me balance my physical and mental health.
I know that my disagreements with my current doctor have helped lead me to this current state of mind.
I feel physically sick from my medication, so I begin to take less.
When I take less and less, when I trust my doctor less and less, I am no longer monitored.
This has helped lead me to where I am today.
I see my therapist tomorrow. I don’t even want to admit where I am.
It is defeating, to have screwed up yet again, to again be in the place where I need help, where I can’t do it on my own.
For a long time, I was tired of having to rely on others.
I don’t want to have to spend money, see a doctor, take medication every day to stay well.
I just want to be normal. I go through this every few years.
It was worse when I was 19 and 20 and when my friends had ten times more energy than I did.
Even at 25, it is limiting to be so moody, so exhausted, so sensitive.
One moment I feel hope, one moment I feel despair.
It has been 13 years. I’m only 25 years old.
I don’t know how much longer I can feel this way.
It comes in waves. The ebb and flow.
It will never go away completely. And I wonder how I’m going to do this for the rest of my life.
By chance, I might be having a few great couple of months, where I am on top of the world with confidence and satisfaction.
Most of the last 13 years, however, have been filled with fear and sadness.
I really and honestly don’t know if that can be changed.
Will I be like my father? Eternally bitter and lost, with the urge to make everything numb?
After 13 years of disappointment and increasing physical health problems, will anything get better?
Sometimes I scoff at the people that tell me to keep going.
Where the hell does your optimism come from?
I annoy the “normal people” with my pessimism.
Expressing this pessimism is the only thing that keeps me going sometimes. I’m fed up.
I will rise again tomorrow, and I will probably feel empty as I did this morning.
However, I don’t know what else I can do.
I am putting one foot in front of the other, hoping something changes.
I will make an effort, but my life seems like a broken record.
You know me, Kat — I’m usually full of excitement and optimism, but not tonight.
I ask you to understand.