Tuesday 10/22/19

The past 4 days have been pretty, um, annoying. My mood is not where it should be. I'll elaborate on that . . .

Last Friday I had a horrible day beating myself up because of my weight. So much so that I was in tears. I happened to glance in the mirror and really get a good look at how big I've gotten (I weigh in at 235 pounds, people), and I lost it. Every negative thought I've ever had came flooding back, making me feel worthless and useless. I did everything I could to counter these thoughts but in the end they won out.

Saturday I worked, primary nursery, meaning I would be doing all the deliveries myself. And it was busy (I did 6 deliveries - one a set of twins). I was bitter and angry and overwhelmed and tired and in pain and my mood was sinking fast. I tried desperately to keep my head above water, to tread faster and harder than I ever have. But the fact that I had to work so hard only made me more bitter and angry. I came home from work exhausted and utterly defeated (though I tried not to show it).

Sunday I worked, primary nursery again. And again it was busy and I did 5 deliveries by myself. I didn't feel like myself. I wasn't as bad as I was on Saturday, but I definitely wasn't myself. I was not quick to smile or laugh. I tended to shy away from conversation. I still felt angry and overwhelmed. When I got home, hubs said that on Monday I should do nothing. Just relax.

And that's what I did.

On Monday I didn't get out of bed until 12:30pm. And I only got up because I had therapy at 2. It felt good to do nothing. It felt restorative. But I also felt guilty. Guilty because I had accomplished nothing. I took those feelings and went to therapy and vomited up everything that I had gone through and felt over the last 3 days. My therapist, M, said that I did good to stay in bed and that I might need another day of doing nothing. Which helped to relieve my feelings of guilt. He also reassured me that what I was feeling was normal and not a bipolar backslide (I had been worrying that all of this was going to lead to a depressive episode).

Today I'm feeling a bit better. I slept in a little, did the dishes, went to the post office, and did some reading. I'm more calm, less bitter, less angry.

I still need to lose some fucking weight though. 

Monday 7/8/19

I was supposed to have therapy today. At noon. But my therapist forgot, somehow, and I didn't get to have my session. I sat in the waiting room with no receptionist, classical music blaring, until 12:36 - the time that I called my therapist, M, and left him a message that I had been there, apparently there was a miscommunication of sorts, and that I was leaving. I asked him to call me back so we could reschedule.

And I left.

And I didn't realize how much I needed therapy today until I didn't have it. I didn't realize how much I was struggling and needed to talk until I left M's office in tears. The slightest mishap breaking me down.

All I want to do anymore is sleep. I wake up looking forward to bedtime and that's it. I nap every day I don't work so that I can escape reality and my crummy feelings. Because sleep is like death without the commitment. It's my only escape.

I'm starting the process to be "approved" for TMS. I talked to D today and she sent me the paperwork I need to fill out and turn in. This causes a problem for me. It makes all my self-doubt, self-hate and self-worth issues scream even louder. I can't hum to myself and ignore the cacophony. No, I'm bombarded with a level of self loathing you can't even imagine, which brings my mood down even lower than before.

Why is this? Why don't I feel worthy of treatment? I know that I'm scared. Scared of what stable and well will look like. I've always been scared of that. When you've lived your entire life with depression . . . well, remission is terrifying. Is this why I don't feel worthy?

I'm also scared that I'll fail, that treatment won't work for me. And where will I be then? Because I can't keep living like this. I can't. This is no way to live.

Hubby has this grand plan that I'll start TMS, I'll get back in the gym, and I'll get better and lose weight and everything will be all hunky-dory. And I'm scared that I'll fail him. I don't even deserve treatment, let alone having it work well for me. I'm worried it won't work. That I won't get back in the gym. That I won't get better and/or lose weight.

I'm worried that everything will fall to pieces and I'll be left worse off than I am now because I will have lost my only shred of hope.

Damn I wish I could have had therapy today.

M did call me back, by the way, and apologized. He said I could smack him. And I might take him up on that because I have to wait another week to see him.

In the meantime I guess I keep plugging through, picking myself up by the boot straps. I just wish I knew how to keep doing that.

11/29/18

It's been awhile since I've written . . . 13 days or so. I have things I want to say and I can't seem to get them out. I can't seem to form a coherent thought. Which is so frustrating it's not even funny. So this is just a quick note to say that I'm still here, and I'm still struggling. I haven't been necessarily feeling outright depressed, but more empty. Empty is not fun. It's no place to be. I don't feel anything.

That's not entirely true. I feel anger and anxiety. Those two emotions are ever present.

I've gotten better again at faking happiness, so that people are none the wiser as to what's really going on. But it's hard not to feel. I don't like it. 

8/24/18

It's been almost a month since my last post. I find that it's harder for me to write when I'm feeling good.  And that's how I've been feeling - good. I'm stable, I'm even happy. It's weird to be feeling this way and it seems to be a little weird for the people around me (hubby mentioned he's not quite sure how to act with me being "normal"). I've had coworkers and friends tell me that I'm acting like my old self, which honestly, is nice to hear.

So what am I writing about today? I'm happy and doing well, so what, really, am I writing about?

Well, let's just say that being stable and well isn't all it's cracked up to be. To put it bluntly, I don't know what to do with myself. I really don't. I have more time during the day to do things since I'm not crippled with depression and I don't know what to do. It also doesn't help since I seem to have developed the habit of procrastination. I procrastinate and procrastinate, putting things off until I have no time to do them and then I have to come up with excuses as to why I didn't get shit done. This only happens when I'm at home mind you, I don't do this at work.

Let's take today for example. Rather than get up and workout, which is what I had planned to do, I laid around in bed. Uh oh! It's time to take my son to school, guess I can't workout. When I got home from taking Ayden to school, I had coffee and perused Instagram for a little bit. Only "a little bit" turned into an hour and an hour turned into an hour and a half. No! I need to clean the bathrooms! And do the dishes! And work on a drawing!

So what did I do?

I went upstairs and laid down for "a few minutes" (like half an hour). The only reason I woke up is because my hubby texted me. Okay. I gotta clean. But I don't want to and I'm coming up with every excuse as to why I can't do it today. I had this overwhelming feeling of NOT wanting to get it done. But I cleaned. And I congratulated myself on getting it done (even though I did a shitty job). And then I showered instead of cleaning the second bathroom. I made excuses. And hey - it was already 11:30 and I hadn't even showered yet!

But I didn't want to shower. And I didn't want to shave or wash my hair or put on makeup or do any of those things at all. I wanted to go and lay back down and take yet another nap.

Why the fuck is it I just want to sleep?? Instead of drawing or painting or reading or working out or  watching TV. All I want to do is sleep. Every day I'm off I take a nap and I will purposefully NOT do something so that I can sleep. This to me doesn't seem normal. This seems like depression behavior but I'm not depressed. I don't like it. I want to do the things I used to love like painting and reading. I want to be able to clean the house without constantly coming up with excuses not to do it.  I want to be able to actually work out and not just say I'm going to. Tomorrow.

Seriously! I don't know what my problem is! What's wrong with me? Why can't I just get shit done like normal people do?? I guess I'll be exploring this with my hubby and therapist instead of hiding it and making excuses.