Thursday 3/31/22 Ugh

 Tomorrow is April. Time seems to be flying by, but also feels like it's at a standstill. It's weird. I'm looking forward to warmer weather and sunshine. I want to do more hiking and walks this summer, horseback riding and lounging outside. I'd really like to. I want to be more active, lose more weight (I've hit a plateau). I want to make memories. 

But my brain hates me.

I've been so numb lately. So blah in everything I do. There's no passion in me. Hell, there's nothing in me - I'm an empty husk. I can play it off that I'm okay, for the most part. I'd say most people can't tell that I'm struggling. But my fuse is getting shorter. I'm getting more irritable and down. But still so empty. I keep feeling like if I could just cry - get it all out - I'd feel so much better. But I can't. I physically can't cry. There's nothing there. No emotion. I've tried forcing it to no avail. Because there is nothing there. I'm so numb and empty and blah. Anhedonia and apathy are my playmates from hell. And I hate this. So. Fucking. Much. 

I woke up this morning feeling pretty low. I had no motivation for anything. I didn't want to leave bed. What's the point? But I did. I took Ayden to school, had breakfast, then went back to bed. For an hour. I had to force myself to get up and shower. But I did. And I went downstairs and painted a little bit. But I didn't enjoy it. And I think my work shows that. So I stopped. I had lunch, did laundry, and now I'm writing all of this. I'm so tired of feeling nothing. I'm so tired of faking emotions. I'm so tired of everything. Why do I have to go through this? All. The. Time. All. My. Life. I'm sick of it. I'm seriously considering calling in sick to work tomorrow, just so I don't have to pretend. Because nothing brings me joy or happiness or satisfaction or contentment or anything. I feel nothing or I feel irritable. What a way to live. 

I keep thinking I should be grateful that I'm not deep in a bad depression. That I'm not fighting suicidal thoughts (though I still have them from time to time). But somehow . . . this almost feels worse. I'm so tired of pretending. Everyone expects me to be okay. And I think that people would be tired of it if they knew the truth. I mean, I'm tired of it, why wouldn't they be?

So I'm floating along, trying to keep my head above water. It's not easy. Nothing is easy. Ever. I hate this. So. Much. And while I teared up writing this, I can't fucking cry.

Thursday 11/11/21 Ugh

 I'm really getting sick of my lack of motivation. Today is my 4th day off in a row (lucky me, right?) and I haven't accomplished anything! I made a sock rat yesterday and did laundry. Woohoo. Go me. Otherwise I've done nothing. It's frustrating. I need to suck it up and force myself to do stuff but it seems I just can't. I go downstairs to my office and sit and stare and do nothing. I have no inspiration for artwork and I can't bring myself to sew. I have a sink full of dirty dishes that sits there, mocking me. I need to dust and clean the bathrooms. But I don't. I have a drawing of a fox I need to paint. But I don't. I have the pattern pieces cut out for a soul sucker, I just need to sew it. But I don't. I can't stand this. 

I'm feeling more depressed again today. I don't want to use that word. Depressed. But it is what it is. I could say I'm feeling down, but that doesn't quite cover the apathy and the fatigue and the brain fog. I think I'm heading into another episode. I don't want to jump the gun saying this. I don't want to catastrophize or overthink this. But I can't deny that overall I'm feeling more melancholy. My thoughts are straying more and more towards the dark. I'm not finding the joy in little things. I'm not feeling happy or content. I'm feeling lost. I feel like I'm starting to struggle to keep my head above water. For a while - a long while - I was on the pier, my toes just brushing the water. But I've fallen in and I'm struggling to stay afloat. I'm not just gently treading water - oh no. And while I may not be violently thrashing about, quickly losing my air, I am struggling. I'm working hard. I'm looking for a life vest. I need something to hold on to. 

Work, I know, is a big contributor to how I'm feeling right now. Because I'm burnt out and overwhelmed. Because if we're not crazy busy we're floating to other units. And because the higher ups don't seem to care. Nobody does. I got a text last night asking for nurses to come to work today. So we're either really busy or there were several sick calls - or both. I work the next 3 days so I declined. Working four 12 hour shifts in a row is not good for my mental health. And I felt so freaking guilty for not going in today. The guilt eats away at me. But I know I would be worse off if I had gone in. It's a catch 22. Work and be miserable, don't work and be miserable. I have to opt for what will make me the least miserable. And today it was not working. 

And there's something else bothering me. Something that's so remote and so, honestly, stupid that I don't even want to write about it. But I'm going to. Because I need to. Here goes. We're planning a trip to Japan in a couple of years. My son desperately wants to go. He adores Japanese culture and is hooked on anime and manga. So hubby and I decided we would take him there hopefully for his 16th birthday. And, quite honestly, I'm terrified of this trip. I'm terrified of everything about it. The ridiculously long flight, the jet lag, the culture shock, the language barrier, the food . . . everything. It seems so daunting and scary and hard. I keep reminding myself that I can do hard things . . . but this seems like it's too much for me to handle. It's the trip of a lifetime and I'd almost rather not go. Because not going would be easier. Because not going is less scary. I hate this. I try my best to not even think about the trip, but the seed is there, in the back of my mind, festering. I'm sure this is contributing to my overwhelm. As stupid as it seems. 

I also feel like I'm in a major rut with life in general. I don't really do anything. We used to have friends over for games and dinners all the time. We'd go out with friends and do things. And now . . . we don't. The friends we used to hang with abandoned us when I was at my worst. The friends I have now, my two good friends, well, we don't really do anything. Get coffee every once in awhile, but that's it. We see each other at work and text each other . . . but that's all we do. And it kinda sucks. Hubby has some friends from church, but not ones we do anything with. It just feels like I should be doing more. And I'm not. 

And on top of all this - the icing on the cake - is that recently I haven't been enjoying my art or sewing. It feels stagnant. It feels not good enough. It feels forced. Imposter syndrome maybe. They say all artists have it to some extent. Well, count me in. Which is probably one of the reasons I have no motivation to create. I don't feel that my stuff is good enough. So why bother? 

Oh, and while I'm at this long drawn out dump of everything bothering me, I might as well talk about my weight. Overall I've lost 22 pounds. Something to be proud of, right? Well, I'm not. Because I fell off the wagon. I've all but given up. I have no motivation to workout. I'm finding it difficult to count and follow my macros. And I hate myself for this. I've dusted myself off. I'm trying again. But my overall apathy makes it hard to get anything done. I need to lose more weight. For my health. For my sanity. I weigh 218 pounds and I want to at least get down to 180. That's a LOT more weight to lose. And it seems daunting and impossible to do. And I beat myself up every chance I get. If I have a treat or a snack. If I don't workout. If I eat something unhealthy. You think it would motivate me. But no, it stagnates me. I feel worse, so I eat worse. I feel worse, so I don't work out because I don't think I deserve it. 

This post sucks. I need to change my mindset for the better. I need to flood myself with positivity. I need to eat healthy and workout. I need to take time off from work. I need to do something. I'll get there. Eventually. I always do. One foot in front of the other. Right? Right. 

Monday 4/20/20 Therapy

I just finished therapy via telemedicine (we're still in quarantine due to corona virus). This was a tough one. I started by showing M my latest vent drawing and reading him my last blog post. Reading that blog post was actually difficult and I started to tear up.

And it left M speechless.

He stared at me, a very somber look on his face, and asked if I needed to go to the hospital. No, no I do not. Are you sure, he asked. Yes, I'm sure. Even just for respite? I told him I would rather be with my hubby and son. He nodded and said okay.

I told him about how empty I've been feeling, how devoid of feeling, how bad. I started crying. I didn't think I would, but I did. I didn't lose it, I didn't sob. Just sort of silently cried. Just for a moment or two. It felt good and it felt awful. Necessary.

We talked at length about my lack of emotion and ways to counteract it. We picked objects and ascribed feeling and meaning to them, hoping that by doing this I would feel something too. We started with the wedding photos and family photos in my bedroom. Photos that should mean something to me. Right now, however, I get no feeling from them. I can identify feelings I should have . . . but I don't feel them.

We did this with several more objects, assigning feelings and meaning to them, and each time I couldn't actually feel what I was "supposed" to. So my homework is to do this daily throughout the week so that maybe, hopefully, I'll start to feel.

Being empty, not feeling, is horrible. And difficult. It's hard to interact with people when you aren't sure what you should be feeling. Luckily for me I've been doing this my whole life. Hiding my depression behind a well crafted facade. Now I hide my lack of feeling. It's not easy, but I can do it.

I work Thursday and Saturday this week, both days in trans. I'm wondering how I'll do. When I get overwhelmed my anger and anxiety has been surfacing. I'm hoping for calm days. Easy days. Days where I don't have to wear my mask so much. Because wearing a mask, keeping up my facade, is tiring.

And I'm already tired.