Today I just want to explore my mood and where I stand within my bubble. I’m not clear on just how I am or what my needs are right now. I feel on the verge of tears because life is just so stinking hard, but I am used to that and working around it. I won’t cry. I really have to be over the edge to cry, it physically hurts for those first tears to flow and once they start who knows when they will stop. It burns and I often cry just out of one eye, I wonder if anyone else does this? It is not a pleasant sensation to start crying for me but afterward I do feel a sense of peace and release. Sometimes it makes me feel better, like how when your really nauseous and you know if you just throw up you’ll feel better, but getting up the courage to do it is the hard part. Crying and vomiting are much the same to me. Both terrible experiences leaving a rawness and tenderness. Only difference is that after kids, I don’t pee when I cry.
I’d say over all I am not in a good space, I feel a sense of despair that things will ever get better, a malaise I guess. I once had a doctor tell me that I may just have a melancholy personality and not be experiencing depression at all. If that were true and sadness was my norm, why, then would I get so on top of the world happy that the sky is smiling. Everything is just so incredibly beautiful with vivid colors and a lightness and joy. Would I experience joy to the point of ecstasy in the mundane dealings of my daily life I were just a sad soul? I can see where he would come to this conclusion as he only ever saw me depressed, I never went to him when I felt good, who goes to the dr for feeling good?
I looked at myself in the mirror the other day and I look so sad. It is in my eyes, the shape of them is wrong somehow. They seem to be turned down at the sides and the color is darker than I remember. I look like a sad soul, I see sadness when I look at myself.
I don’t want to be a sad soul, I want to fight this, but I am so god-damned tired. I feel like it is such a big mountain and I am such a little person.
The demands of marriage, kids, money all too much. I have nothing left to give. I find myself faking my way through conversations, when was the last time I was real? Real with myself, with how I really feel. Fake it til you make it is my motto, but at what point do you fake it so much you don’t know what is real anymore? What is me? Am I actually interested in what you did this weekend? I’m not interested in what I did this weekend, so me feigning an interest in someone else’s life gets me through that moment, so I don’t break down in tears in front of someone else. How many more moments can I fake my way through until I really feel like I mean it? I feel lost in this cycle of pretending to be fine so that someday maybe I really will be fine.
I’m hoping upon hope I get the nerve up to ask my mom to watch the baby while I go to my next appointment on the psych floor. I need a good appointment, I need to let someone know just how far gone I really am. Maybe I should go check myself in. I don’t think I’m suicidal per se, but if I had the energy or the willpower it might be different. So I’ll just go to the gym and fight the fat, pretend I care, smile politely at anyone who makes eye contact. I may go visit my step mom and wish desperately that someone could see that I am on the edge, if they could see through the fake. But that seems like an effort in futility. No one ever sees through the fake.
On the battle front, I am watching the music I listen to because each and every song feels really emotionally taxing, I haven’t turned the tv on in days, I’m going to get up and get dressed and go to the gym, then I will feel obligated to shower and dress again. I’ll facetime my husband and pretend to be doing fine so that he doesn’t worry. I will try to clean the house to my mother’s high expectations and be maternal to my children. At some point there will be nap time. I may or may not find something to do to keep my mind busy, other than shopping. That temporary high you get while buying new stuff is getting out of hand with me, we need to save money too bad for me to be spending like I am. I’ll sniff my oils and take my pills and just try to get through another day until at least 7 o’clock, then I can lay down in my bed and wait for the next day.
Well this turned out to be a lot more depressed than I thought it would.