Oy vey. I'm supposed to be at work today. I'm writing this so obviously I'm not. I was put on delayed start until one. That means instead of going into work at 7am, my delayed start time is 1pm - but only if I'm needed. If I'm not needed I'll be put on call. I have a sneaking suspicion that I won't be needed.
So I'm at home, trying to come up with something to do. I want to draw, I just can't come up with something to draw. So I figured I'd write instead. Listen to some music. See if I can get the creative juices flowing.
And so far it's not working.
Damn.
Mood wise I'm status quo: empty, down, numb, hopeless, pointless, etc. I have maintenance TMS again next Tuesday the 2nd. I'm hopefully going to talk to Dr. F and see if he's accepting new patients. I hope so. I pray he is. (If you read my last post you know why). I need something new, a fresh set of eyes, and I don't think I'll get that from Dr. M anymore. I truly believe Dr. M is done with me.
In other news, I hate my hair. I'm growing it out from a pixie and it's in this really awkward phase of being too long but too short to do anything. I'm so close to cutting it off again. I really hate it. And hair on average grows only 6 inches per year. This is going to take forever. Two-three years of awkwardness. Ugh. What to do, what to do . . .
I guess I don't have that much to say today. Hope all is well with you.
Showing posts with label negative. Show all posts
Showing posts with label negative. Show all posts
Friday, May 29, 2020
Monday, May 25, 2020
Monday 5/25/20 Memorial Day
It's Memorial Day and I'm actually off. Which is nice, except it means I'll probably be working the 4th of July. That's okay though - I don't need that day off anymore (I wanted it off for the Denver Pop Culture Con, but that has been rescheduled for November - Thanksgiving weekend, of course *obvious eye roll*). But anyway, I'm off and my mother-in-law and brother-in-law are coming over for dinner. We're grilling. Burgers and hot dogs cause we're cheap and lazy :)
I've been dealing with the steady erosion of self. I've been feeling pretty badly. My usual: empty, depressed, hollow, numb, hopeless, pointless . . . you get the idea. All the bad stuff. It's been pretty relentless. I've cut twice. I might do it more. I struggle at work. I struggle at home. I wake up in the morning only looking forward to bed. In short, it sucks.
I don't have therapy again until June 4th. At my last session M told me to call if I need to be seen sooner (since we were going 3 and a half weeks between sessions). Well, yeah, I need to be seen sooner. I mean, I feel that way for sure. But have I called him? No. No I haven't.
Why the hell not?? You need him, call him!
Sounds easy, right? Well, for me it's not. I haven't called him because I don't want to be a burden. That's how I feel right now, like I'm a burden on everyone. And I hate feeling like that. But that's what I am - a burden. I'm having to do maintenance TMS - which is $200 a pop. That makes me a financial burden. I'm not pulling my weight with the housework. Burden. I'm relying on hubby emotionally so much right now. Burden.
Trust me - I know this is the depression talking. But it's putting up a strong argument. One that I have no retort to.
So no, I haven't called M because I don't want to be a burden to him too. I feel that he needs this break from me because I'm so annoying and a drain.
So I don't know what to do. Well, that's a lie. Because I know what I'm going to do. I'm going to wait until my scheduled appointment. So that I'm less of a burden and don't feel so crappy about myself.
I'm truly thinking I need a medication tweak. I don't see my psychiatrist until June 9th, of course. And, quite honestly, I'm dreading seeing him. See, I don't think he'll adjust my meds. I think all he's going to do is suggest ECT again, which I absolutely won't do. I think he's kinda done with me. I think he's given up on me. And that hurts. I don't want to have to find another psychiatrist. And I mean, I like Dr. M, I just think he's truly given up on me. Don't ask me why I feel that way, I don't know why. It's probably the depression talking. Again, depression puts up a compelling argument.
So anyway, yeah, I'm a mess right now. So much negative self talk that I can't seem to counter or squelch. I'll get there though, right? I mean, I have to, because I can't keep doing this.
I've been dealing with the steady erosion of self. I've been feeling pretty badly. My usual: empty, depressed, hollow, numb, hopeless, pointless . . . you get the idea. All the bad stuff. It's been pretty relentless. I've cut twice. I might do it more. I struggle at work. I struggle at home. I wake up in the morning only looking forward to bed. In short, it sucks.
I don't have therapy again until June 4th. At my last session M told me to call if I need to be seen sooner (since we were going 3 and a half weeks between sessions). Well, yeah, I need to be seen sooner. I mean, I feel that way for sure. But have I called him? No. No I haven't.
Why the hell not?? You need him, call him!
Sounds easy, right? Well, for me it's not. I haven't called him because I don't want to be a burden. That's how I feel right now, like I'm a burden on everyone. And I hate feeling like that. But that's what I am - a burden. I'm having to do maintenance TMS - which is $200 a pop. That makes me a financial burden. I'm not pulling my weight with the housework. Burden. I'm relying on hubby emotionally so much right now. Burden.
Trust me - I know this is the depression talking. But it's putting up a strong argument. One that I have no retort to.
So no, I haven't called M because I don't want to be a burden to him too. I feel that he needs this break from me because I'm so annoying and a drain.
So I don't know what to do. Well, that's a lie. Because I know what I'm going to do. I'm going to wait until my scheduled appointment. So that I'm less of a burden and don't feel so crappy about myself.
I'm truly thinking I need a medication tweak. I don't see my psychiatrist until June 9th, of course. And, quite honestly, I'm dreading seeing him. See, I don't think he'll adjust my meds. I think all he's going to do is suggest ECT again, which I absolutely won't do. I think he's kinda done with me. I think he's given up on me. And that hurts. I don't want to have to find another psychiatrist. And I mean, I like Dr. M, I just think he's truly given up on me. Don't ask me why I feel that way, I don't know why. It's probably the depression talking. Again, depression puts up a compelling argument.
So anyway, yeah, I'm a mess right now. So much negative self talk that I can't seem to counter or squelch. I'll get there though, right? I mean, I have to, because I can't keep doing this.
Wednesday, May 13, 2020
Wednesday 5/13/20 Okay brain, you win
So remember on Monday I wrote that things were "looking up"? Ha ha ha! Oh MAN!! That was funny! A real knee slapper!
Cause, well, things are back to square one. Or, more accurately, worse than square one.
But, how? You said you were feeling better! For like 3 days!
Yes, that's right. I was. But by Monday afternoon my mood was starting to slide again. I was starting to feel empty, numb and down. I felt that way all day yesterday. And then today came. And today has sucked.
It's 1346 as I write this and I have broken down sobbing 4 times now (I've only been awake for 5 hours people). Here's the thing though: I'm used to feeling empty and numb and down and now I'm feeling ALL THE THINGS. Despair, loneliness, sadness, ANGER, hopelessness, anxiety . . . all the bad things, I'm feeling them all. Intensified negative emotions. If I'm not crying over something I'm trying desperately to keep myself from screaming, cussing, and throwing shit. My emotions are moving so fast I'm getting physically nauseous. I've had to lay down several times I was so sick to my stomach.
I was texting my hubby when I remembered something: when I started TMS Dr. F told me that I would start to get worse before I got better. That most people would start to feel more (mostly negative) emotions and would think that this was a sign they were getting worse. He told me to keep going as it was really a sign that TMS was working and I was getting better. Hubby remembers this too. I'm praying that this is what's going on right now. That I'm feeling worse but getting better. I have TMS again on the 18th.
Today has been a roller coaster ride from hell. I've managed to do a drawing, do laundry, and get dinner in the crock pot. That's it. I was going to do so much more. I was going to workout, paint some sparrows, clean the kitchen, and go for a walk. None of that got done thanks to my violent, negative mood swings. I'm hoping tomorrow is better. And Friday better still. I work Saturday and I can't be at work like this. I won't be able to function. So you hear that brain? You better get your shit together.
Cause, well, things are back to square one. Or, more accurately, worse than square one.
But, how? You said you were feeling better! For like 3 days!
Yes, that's right. I was. But by Monday afternoon my mood was starting to slide again. I was starting to feel empty, numb and down. I felt that way all day yesterday. And then today came. And today has sucked.
It's 1346 as I write this and I have broken down sobbing 4 times now (I've only been awake for 5 hours people). Here's the thing though: I'm used to feeling empty and numb and down and now I'm feeling ALL THE THINGS. Despair, loneliness, sadness, ANGER, hopelessness, anxiety . . . all the bad things, I'm feeling them all. Intensified negative emotions. If I'm not crying over something I'm trying desperately to keep myself from screaming, cussing, and throwing shit. My emotions are moving so fast I'm getting physically nauseous. I've had to lay down several times I was so sick to my stomach.
I was texting my hubby when I remembered something: when I started TMS Dr. F told me that I would start to get worse before I got better. That most people would start to feel more (mostly negative) emotions and would think that this was a sign they were getting worse. He told me to keep going as it was really a sign that TMS was working and I was getting better. Hubby remembers this too. I'm praying that this is what's going on right now. That I'm feeling worse but getting better. I have TMS again on the 18th.
Today has been a roller coaster ride from hell. I've managed to do a drawing, do laundry, and get dinner in the crock pot. That's it. I was going to do so much more. I was going to workout, paint some sparrows, clean the kitchen, and go for a walk. None of that got done thanks to my violent, negative mood swings. I'm hoping tomorrow is better. And Friday better still. I work Saturday and I can't be at work like this. I won't be able to function. So you hear that brain? You better get your shit together.
Tuesday, April 21, 2020
Tuesday 4/21/20 Why can't I cry?
I'm not really sure why I'm writing. I feel like I need to. I feel trapped. I feel depressed. I feel like I need to cry but I can't. I'm so empty and there's no strong emotion behind the need . . . so nothing comes. Even though I feel like I'll break down any moment.
I truly hate feeling like this. I'm stuck in this no man's land. This dark closet of no emotion. But that's not entirely true, is it? Because there is emotion. There's guilt, shame, hopelessness, worthlessness, and despair. Those are my bedfellows now.
So why can't I cry?
I keep thinking I would feel better after I cry. I cried yesterday, during therapy and then in the evening when I was trying to read. I felt so drained afterwards. But it was a release. I need that release now. But alas, I'm dry.
I also hate being so negative. But it's all I have right now.
Let's change up the pace.
I shaved my legs today - it's been over a week. Nice and smooth. I did laundry, I did two paintings, I read. I watched some uplifting Ted talks and browsed Pinterest while listening to good music. And now, I'm writing because I felt the need. It's funny how I've been so compelled to write recently. When I'm stable and happy I don't write nearly as much, if at all, truthfully. I find that strange. I need to get in the habit of writing when I'm feeling good. After all, my book can't be all doom and gloom, right?
I truly hate feeling like this. I'm stuck in this no man's land. This dark closet of no emotion. But that's not entirely true, is it? Because there is emotion. There's guilt, shame, hopelessness, worthlessness, and despair. Those are my bedfellows now.
So why can't I cry?
I keep thinking I would feel better after I cry. I cried yesterday, during therapy and then in the evening when I was trying to read. I felt so drained afterwards. But it was a release. I need that release now. But alas, I'm dry.
I also hate being so negative. But it's all I have right now.
Let's change up the pace.
I shaved my legs today - it's been over a week. Nice and smooth. I did laundry, I did two paintings, I read. I watched some uplifting Ted talks and browsed Pinterest while listening to good music. And now, I'm writing because I felt the need. It's funny how I've been so compelled to write recently. When I'm stable and happy I don't write nearly as much, if at all, truthfully. I find that strange. I need to get in the habit of writing when I'm feeling good. After all, my book can't be all doom and gloom, right?
Saturday, April 18, 2020
Saturday 4/18/20 Am I Enough
I just kinda feel compelled to write right now. I'm not sure why. Maybe because I've been pouring over old blog posts looking for fodder for my book. Yes, I'm working on writing a book. I actually started it several years ago and didn't get very far with it. Well, I'm revisiting it with some fresh ideas and hoping to actually get it fleshed out. So yeah - I've been working on it for 4 hours now. Go me!
But I don't think that's what I really wanted to write about. No, I think not.
What is it then?
This horrible feeling of emptiness I can't seem to shake. That's what I want to write about. See, I can't seem to get rid of it. I feel so empty right now. I'm not really feeling anything. No good, not even anything really bad. Though when I do feel, it tends to be bad. I'm just existing. Barely. Everything around me is so thick and grey and oppressing. It's sludge. There's no color, no life.
I'm nothing.
I'm stuck.
I don't like feeling like this. This apathy. This anhedonia. Things that I enjoy? Like reading and painting? I don't enjoy anymore. I force myself to try . . . most often leading to failure which makes me feel worse.
I have therapy on Monday morning and I'm a little bit worried. See, I'm depressed, but am I depressed enough? And what, exactly, do I mean by that? See, people don't seem to care unless you're depressed enough. Suicidal enough. Manic enough. Who says it's enough? Hell if I know, but it seems to be a common thread. I'm mainly flat, withdrawn, down, and empty. Is that enough? I'm not suicidal, I'm not breaking down all the time, I'm still able to work. So, am I enough?
I'm worried that during therapy I won't be able to carry enough weight of the conversation. Because my depression is all I have to talk about. And I'm not horrible. And I know what I'm supposed to be doing and I'm doing those things. All those coping mechanisms form CBT and DBT that I learned so long ago . . . I do all those things. What more am I going to learn in therapy on Monday? That's what worries me. That I'm not enough for therapy, even though it's always been helpful to me.
I don't know why I'm so worried about this. But it's tearing me up inside, which is stupid, I know. I can't help it though. I mean come on - I'm tearing up as I type this. How stupid is that?
I just know that I'm tired of feeling like this. I know I can feel so much better - I've been there. I just need to figure out how to get back there.
But I don't think that's what I really wanted to write about. No, I think not.
What is it then?
This horrible feeling of emptiness I can't seem to shake. That's what I want to write about. See, I can't seem to get rid of it. I feel so empty right now. I'm not really feeling anything. No good, not even anything really bad. Though when I do feel, it tends to be bad. I'm just existing. Barely. Everything around me is so thick and grey and oppressing. It's sludge. There's no color, no life.
I'm nothing.
I'm stuck.
I don't like feeling like this. This apathy. This anhedonia. Things that I enjoy? Like reading and painting? I don't enjoy anymore. I force myself to try . . . most often leading to failure which makes me feel worse.
I have therapy on Monday morning and I'm a little bit worried. See, I'm depressed, but am I depressed enough? And what, exactly, do I mean by that? See, people don't seem to care unless you're depressed enough. Suicidal enough. Manic enough. Who says it's enough? Hell if I know, but it seems to be a common thread. I'm mainly flat, withdrawn, down, and empty. Is that enough? I'm not suicidal, I'm not breaking down all the time, I'm still able to work. So, am I enough?
I'm worried that during therapy I won't be able to carry enough weight of the conversation. Because my depression is all I have to talk about. And I'm not horrible. And I know what I'm supposed to be doing and I'm doing those things. All those coping mechanisms form CBT and DBT that I learned so long ago . . . I do all those things. What more am I going to learn in therapy on Monday? That's what worries me. That I'm not enough for therapy, even though it's always been helpful to me.
I don't know why I'm so worried about this. But it's tearing me up inside, which is stupid, I know. I can't help it though. I mean come on - I'm tearing up as I type this. How stupid is that?
I just know that I'm tired of feeling like this. I know I can feel so much better - I've been there. I just need to figure out how to get back there.
Monday, March 30, 2020
Monday 3/30/20
Another week since my last post, and two therapy sessions under my belt: one last Thursday and one today. Thursday's session was face timed, today was in person, which both M and I prefer. Why such frequent sessions? Well, because I'm falling apart, truthfully.
It's hard for me to describe how I feel right now. I'm nothingness. I'm empty, hollow, withdrawn, flat, fake, a husk . . . This is all more apparent when I'm at work. I'm distancing myself from people (and not just because of coronavirus, lol). No, I'm distancing myself because it takes too much out of me to interact with people. It feels like everything I do or say is a facade. My smiles and chuckles are not genuine. I'm putting up a front, putting out there what people want to see.
But that's not me.
I feel so alone and helpless and small. I'm just so empty. The only feelings I can seem to muster up are negative ones. I'm struggling to even find neutrality. It's so hard . . . feeling so empty and pretending to be happy, or even just okay.
I'm scared, too. Of a lot of things right now. I'm scared of the current state of the world. I'm scared at work - of being exposed, of having to float to another unit. I'm scared of my own mind - I know how dark it can get in there.
Things seem bleak right now.
M helped me today to see the good, see the light. I don't know if it's too little too late. My mind is already a snarled tomb of negativity.
I'm trying though. I'm trying. I'm writing this out, I'll go on a walk today, maybe I'll even draw (I don't know what - I have no motivation or inspiration, but maybe). M wants me to work on my book. I looked through my writing for my book and realized I haven't worked on it for two years. Two years. Holy cow. I wouldn't even know where to start, how to start. With a single word, I guess. That's what M says.
So here I sit, depressed as hell, whining on the internet, not being positive at all. I should really change that. All of that.
It's hard for me to describe how I feel right now. I'm nothingness. I'm empty, hollow, withdrawn, flat, fake, a husk . . . This is all more apparent when I'm at work. I'm distancing myself from people (and not just because of coronavirus, lol). No, I'm distancing myself because it takes too much out of me to interact with people. It feels like everything I do or say is a facade. My smiles and chuckles are not genuine. I'm putting up a front, putting out there what people want to see.
But that's not me.
I feel so alone and helpless and small. I'm just so empty. The only feelings I can seem to muster up are negative ones. I'm struggling to even find neutrality. It's so hard . . . feeling so empty and pretending to be happy, or even just okay.
I'm scared, too. Of a lot of things right now. I'm scared of the current state of the world. I'm scared at work - of being exposed, of having to float to another unit. I'm scared of my own mind - I know how dark it can get in there.
Things seem bleak right now.
M helped me today to see the good, see the light. I don't know if it's too little too late. My mind is already a snarled tomb of negativity.
I'm trying though. I'm trying. I'm writing this out, I'll go on a walk today, maybe I'll even draw (I don't know what - I have no motivation or inspiration, but maybe). M wants me to work on my book. I looked through my writing for my book and realized I haven't worked on it for two years. Two years. Holy cow. I wouldn't even know where to start, how to start. With a single word, I guess. That's what M says.
So here I sit, depressed as hell, whining on the internet, not being positive at all. I should really change that. All of that.
Friday, March 22, 2019
3/22/19
Well. I'm having a bit of a rough go of it today. Which is annoying. My mood is down - not depressed - but down. And all because my brain is an asshole and won't shut up. My brain likes being an asshole, and it's good at it. Too good at it. What's it doing . . .?
I was getting ready this morning and happened to really look at myself in the mirror. I look at myself in the mirror all the time but this morning . . . this morning was different. I was immediately filled with self loathing. I could see every flaw, every wrinkle, every fold of fat. I could see it all. The bags under my eyes, the dull grey color of my eyes, how my hair was just laying there, no volume, no real style. How ugly and fat I was.
You look hideous. You look old and worn out. You're fat. Are you even trying to lose weight because it looks like you're gaining more. You're so frumpy. You have no sense of style. How does Jeremy even still love you? Ayden is embarrassed by you. You have wrinkles every where I can see your pores you don't do anything with your hair look how your stomach hangs you look pale I'm surprised Jeremy hasn't leftyouyou'reworthlessyouhavenothingtogivewhydon'tyoujustkillyourself . . . . . .
All of the negative thoughts started running together. It was hard to even separate them. My eyes welled up with tears as I stood there looking at myself and listening to my brain barrage me. I couldn't move. I was frozen there, trying my best not to cry because Ayden was in his room next door. I didn't want him to hear me.
Even 6 months ago this would have gotten to me. This would have hit me hard. Now, that's not to say that it didn't hit me. On the contrary. My mood went south in a heartbeat. But the difference between now and 6 months ago is now I'm stable. Now I know how to counter these thoughts and practice self care. And that's what I did. I countered these thoughts. I told myself that I was beautiful in and out. That even though I was overweight and not where I want to be that didn't make Jeremy love me any less. And you know what?
It kind of helped.
That sounds stupid, doesn't it? I'm sure you were waiting for me to say that it worked. That I went about my day feeling happy with no more negative self talk. But that's simply not true. That's, sadly, not how my brain works. It has been barraging me with negative comments all day. So much so that I feel mentally exhausted. But I'm countering them. I'm keeping myself from going deeper. I'm writing about it in hopes that this will help.
Six months ago I would have felt like shit. Today I feel down and worn out, but definitely not like shit. So I'd say that's progress.
I was getting ready this morning and happened to really look at myself in the mirror. I look at myself in the mirror all the time but this morning . . . this morning was different. I was immediately filled with self loathing. I could see every flaw, every wrinkle, every fold of fat. I could see it all. The bags under my eyes, the dull grey color of my eyes, how my hair was just laying there, no volume, no real style. How ugly and fat I was.
You look hideous. You look old and worn out. You're fat. Are you even trying to lose weight because it looks like you're gaining more. You're so frumpy. You have no sense of style. How does Jeremy even still love you? Ayden is embarrassed by you. You have wrinkles every where I can see your pores you don't do anything with your hair look how your stomach hangs you look pale I'm surprised Jeremy hasn't leftyouyou'reworthlessyouhavenothingtogivewhydon'tyoujustkillyourself . . . . . .
All of the negative thoughts started running together. It was hard to even separate them. My eyes welled up with tears as I stood there looking at myself and listening to my brain barrage me. I couldn't move. I was frozen there, trying my best not to cry because Ayden was in his room next door. I didn't want him to hear me.
Even 6 months ago this would have gotten to me. This would have hit me hard. Now, that's not to say that it didn't hit me. On the contrary. My mood went south in a heartbeat. But the difference between now and 6 months ago is now I'm stable. Now I know how to counter these thoughts and practice self care. And that's what I did. I countered these thoughts. I told myself that I was beautiful in and out. That even though I was overweight and not where I want to be that didn't make Jeremy love me any less. And you know what?
It kind of helped.
That sounds stupid, doesn't it? I'm sure you were waiting for me to say that it worked. That I went about my day feeling happy with no more negative self talk. But that's simply not true. That's, sadly, not how my brain works. It has been barraging me with negative comments all day. So much so that I feel mentally exhausted. But I'm countering them. I'm keeping myself from going deeper. I'm writing about it in hopes that this will help.
Six months ago I would have felt like shit. Today I feel down and worn out, but definitely not like shit. So I'd say that's progress.
Sunday, February 17, 2019
2/17/19
I'm sitting on the couch drinking tea, listening to music. I should be content. I should feel good. But I don't. I'm not sure what's going on other than I'm having an identity crisis of sorts. I guess. I really don't know.
I was putting on makeup this morning and took a really good look at myself. Y'all, I don't even recognize myself. I've gained so much weight - so much fucking weight - that I don't recognize myself anymore. I'm not who I used to be and it brought me to tears.
I feel so fat and disgusting and ugly right now it's not even funny. My self esteem is nonexistent. It makes me feel so low. I'm trying to make changes in my diet and physical activity to combat this but it's proven to be REALLY. FUCKING. HARD. I'm trying. My diet is actually pretty good. I need to get active though, I know this, but it's so hard when all you want to do is sleep. I've been so exhausted the past few months so it's been hard.
I'm trying.
And you know what? It's not just the weight (though that's the main thing), it's also the fact that I'm getting older. I'm 40 people and my face is changing. I have more wrinkles, I have grey hair. I think this is harder for me to swallow than I ever thought it would be. I just assumed I would age gracefully.
Apparently I'm not.
I was putting on makeup this morning and took a really good look at myself. Y'all, I don't even recognize myself. I've gained so much weight - so much fucking weight - that I don't recognize myself anymore. I'm not who I used to be and it brought me to tears.
I feel so fat and disgusting and ugly right now it's not even funny. My self esteem is nonexistent. It makes me feel so low. I'm trying to make changes in my diet and physical activity to combat this but it's proven to be REALLY. FUCKING. HARD. I'm trying. My diet is actually pretty good. I need to get active though, I know this, but it's so hard when all you want to do is sleep. I've been so exhausted the past few months so it's been hard.
I'm trying.
And you know what? It's not just the weight (though that's the main thing), it's also the fact that I'm getting older. I'm 40 people and my face is changing. I have more wrinkles, I have grey hair. I think this is harder for me to swallow than I ever thought it would be. I just assumed I would age gracefully.
Apparently I'm not.
Wednesday, February 13, 2019
2/13/19
Would you look at that, the day before Valentine's day. Isn't that special?
No, not really. It's really not. I never really got Valentine's day, other than it being a commercial holiday. Hubs and I don't celebrate it. Seems a waste of money.
Anyway, my low mood seems to be continuing. It's not bad, it's just . . . noticeable. I'm a little off, a little down, a little empty, a little bit not me. So there's that. And then I spoke to my mom this week. Or should I say I listened to her ramble on about nothing. She had been drinking already (it was 12:30pm when she called) and she was past tipsy but not quite drunk yet. It made me realize something. It made me realize how little I want to have anything to do with her. It made me realize how truly stressed out I get when she even texts me. It made me realize how angry and anxious hearing her voice makes me. It made me realize how futile it is trying to have a relationship with her.
And see, I've been trying to have a relationship with her. But it's just . . . it's not working. I'm really at the point where I can't stand the woman. She embarrasses me, she makes me angry and anxious and uncomfortable. And she's in such strong denial about her drinking that she could be pouring vodka into a glass and drinking it and still deny that she drinks alcohol. To say it's frustrating is a vast understatement.
I've been working on all this in therapy, have read the ACOA books (Adult Children of Alcoholics), been to ACOA meetings . . . I've talked with hubs and my friends about it and gotten advice from them. I don't know what else to do. I'm really at the point where I want to cut off all communication.
I can't, of course, do that because we have a loan through her. So there has to be some form of communication. Which, let's face it, I dread.
I guess this will be the topic of discussion in therapy next week. Joy.
No, not really. It's really not. I never really got Valentine's day, other than it being a commercial holiday. Hubs and I don't celebrate it. Seems a waste of money.
Anyway, my low mood seems to be continuing. It's not bad, it's just . . . noticeable. I'm a little off, a little down, a little empty, a little bit not me. So there's that. And then I spoke to my mom this week. Or should I say I listened to her ramble on about nothing. She had been drinking already (it was 12:30pm when she called) and she was past tipsy but not quite drunk yet. It made me realize something. It made me realize how little I want to have anything to do with her. It made me realize how truly stressed out I get when she even texts me. It made me realize how angry and anxious hearing her voice makes me. It made me realize how futile it is trying to have a relationship with her.
And see, I've been trying to have a relationship with her. But it's just . . . it's not working. I'm really at the point where I can't stand the woman. She embarrasses me, she makes me angry and anxious and uncomfortable. And she's in such strong denial about her drinking that she could be pouring vodka into a glass and drinking it and still deny that she drinks alcohol. To say it's frustrating is a vast understatement.
I've been working on all this in therapy, have read the ACOA books (Adult Children of Alcoholics), been to ACOA meetings . . . I've talked with hubs and my friends about it and gotten advice from them. I don't know what else to do. I'm really at the point where I want to cut off all communication.
I can't, of course, do that because we have a loan through her. So there has to be some form of communication. Which, let's face it, I dread.
I guess this will be the topic of discussion in therapy next week. Joy.
Monday, December 24, 2018
12/24/18
Wow. It's been awhile since I've written anything. Two weeks. And it's Christmas eve. Although it doesn't feel like Christmas at all. No, it just feels like any other day. Can't say I've gotten into the Christmas spirit this year. I pretty much blame my depression for that.
I had a therapy appointment last week. Ended up crying in therapy and then crying myself to sleep that night. Always so much fun.
I've been about the same as I was in my last blog post. Hovering just below the surface, unable to really feel much of anything except negative emotions here and there. There is a change though, I have been able to feel some positive emotions. They're not strong, and they're not long lived, but they have been there. I'm so thankful for that. Because I'm truly drowning here.
Now today, today I have been weird. I keep fluctuating between being mostly okay to being an anxious ball of worry. Why? Well, for one, it's Christmas eve which means church. I'm going to throw out there that I hate church. I feel like such an outcast there. I get nothing from the sermons. And all of the sit-stand-kneel, sit-stand-kneel is annoying as hell. My hubby goes every Sunday (he's Catholic, I'm . . . nothing) and he takes our son. I'm kind of the black sheep I guess. But I go with him Christmas eve if I'm not working. And I don't like it. And there's so many people and I don't do well with crowds. But I go. I just most certainly don't look forward to it. Quite the opposite - I dread it.
Here's the other thing. Hubby is in a men's group at the church and one of the guys invited us over to dinner tonight. And we're going. Why is this a problem? I won't know anyone there. For an introvert this is a nightmare. The longer I deal with this depression the more introverted I become - even around people I know. I'm quiet, I fade into the background. And let's be honest - I think I've forgotten how to have fun. I don't know what to talk about. I don't remember hardly any good stories about my work and the other main topic of my life is my bipolar disorder (which I don't really want to talk about with strangers). I don't know how to make conversations. I don't know how to engage people. I've bought 3 books on the subject but haven't even made it through one yet.
So I'm anxious. Anxious about church, anxious about this dinner party. And I feel overall down. I wish I didn't have to deal with this. With the anxiety, the depression, the bipolar, with myself.
I hope to god there will be alcohol there tonight.
I had a therapy appointment last week. Ended up crying in therapy and then crying myself to sleep that night. Always so much fun.
I've been about the same as I was in my last blog post. Hovering just below the surface, unable to really feel much of anything except negative emotions here and there. There is a change though, I have been able to feel some positive emotions. They're not strong, and they're not long lived, but they have been there. I'm so thankful for that. Because I'm truly drowning here.
Now today, today I have been weird. I keep fluctuating between being mostly okay to being an anxious ball of worry. Why? Well, for one, it's Christmas eve which means church. I'm going to throw out there that I hate church. I feel like such an outcast there. I get nothing from the sermons. And all of the sit-stand-kneel, sit-stand-kneel is annoying as hell. My hubby goes every Sunday (he's Catholic, I'm . . . nothing) and he takes our son. I'm kind of the black sheep I guess. But I go with him Christmas eve if I'm not working. And I don't like it. And there's so many people and I don't do well with crowds. But I go. I just most certainly don't look forward to it. Quite the opposite - I dread it.
Here's the other thing. Hubby is in a men's group at the church and one of the guys invited us over to dinner tonight. And we're going. Why is this a problem? I won't know anyone there. For an introvert this is a nightmare. The longer I deal with this depression the more introverted I become - even around people I know. I'm quiet, I fade into the background. And let's be honest - I think I've forgotten how to have fun. I don't know what to talk about. I don't remember hardly any good stories about my work and the other main topic of my life is my bipolar disorder (which I don't really want to talk about with strangers). I don't know how to make conversations. I don't know how to engage people. I've bought 3 books on the subject but haven't even made it through one yet.
So I'm anxious. Anxious about church, anxious about this dinner party. And I feel overall down. I wish I didn't have to deal with this. With the anxiety, the depression, the bipolar, with myself.
I hope to god there will be alcohol there tonight.
Friday, December 7, 2018
12/7/18
Well hello there. There's not much new going on here. Our offer was accepted on the house and we're officially under contract. The inspection was yesterday and while it wasn't bad, it also wasn't great (and that's got me worried - what if we lose the house over it??). But we'll just have to see how it goes, right?
Mood wise . . . well . . . I'm not sure I really know. I've still been empty and hollow and flat and a husk. Any feelings I do have are muted. Stunted. I'm still pretending, pretending that I'm okay, that everything is alright. I'm putting on that mask, that facade for everyone. I think people are none the wiser. I don't think they suspect that I'm not doing well. I even put on the facade during therapy this week. I don't know why really. Maybe it was just habit. Maybe I wasn't in the mood to talk about my emotions. Maybe it was too hard. Maybe it was all of the above.
Today has been a rough day. I've managed to clean a little, do some laundry, and do a painting. All while fighting back tears. Let's be honest though, it's not terribly hard to fight back the tears. Why? Because there's no emotion behind them. I'm an empty husk, remember? But they're there none the less, threatening to come. And it's frustrating, really. Like, maybe if I could just cry I'd feel better.
At least I'm managing. I mean, I'm able to work. I kind of keep up the house. I've been painting - I took 2 custom orders. So I've been managing. Which means I don't have to be hospitalized. It's been almost a year since my last hospitalization - I don't want to go back.
I'm still having suicidal thoughts. Every. Single. Day. Even though I have good things going for me. Even though I'm managing. I'm still having those thoughts. I hate them. I wish they would go away. But I don't see that happening any time soon. Maybe the one doctor I fired was right - I'm going to be depressed and suicidal for the rest of my life and I need to learn how to deal with it. Now if that's not a depressing thought I don't know what is.
So anyway, there's where I'm at. Yep.
Mood wise . . . well . . . I'm not sure I really know. I've still been empty and hollow and flat and a husk. Any feelings I do have are muted. Stunted. I'm still pretending, pretending that I'm okay, that everything is alright. I'm putting on that mask, that facade for everyone. I think people are none the wiser. I don't think they suspect that I'm not doing well. I even put on the facade during therapy this week. I don't know why really. Maybe it was just habit. Maybe I wasn't in the mood to talk about my emotions. Maybe it was too hard. Maybe it was all of the above.
Today has been a rough day. I've managed to clean a little, do some laundry, and do a painting. All while fighting back tears. Let's be honest though, it's not terribly hard to fight back the tears. Why? Because there's no emotion behind them. I'm an empty husk, remember? But they're there none the less, threatening to come. And it's frustrating, really. Like, maybe if I could just cry I'd feel better.
At least I'm managing. I mean, I'm able to work. I kind of keep up the house. I've been painting - I took 2 custom orders. So I've been managing. Which means I don't have to be hospitalized. It's been almost a year since my last hospitalization - I don't want to go back.
I'm still having suicidal thoughts. Every. Single. Day. Even though I have good things going for me. Even though I'm managing. I'm still having those thoughts. I hate them. I wish they would go away. But I don't see that happening any time soon. Maybe the one doctor I fired was right - I'm going to be depressed and suicidal for the rest of my life and I need to learn how to deal with it. Now if that's not a depressing thought I don't know what is.
So anyway, there's where I'm at. Yep.
Tuesday, September 25, 2018
9/25/18
It's my birthday today. Can you sense the excitement? Don't worry if you can't - it's not there. And it's not because "oh no I'm a year older"! Honestly that doesn't phase me at all. No, it's because I'm still feeling depressed.
You know, depressed isn't really the right word. When I think of me being depressed, I think of sobbing and wanting to die and cutting myself and utter, bleak hopelessness. I'm not there yet. I'm, I don't know, more mild depression I guess. I feel down and flat and withdrawn and lost and yes, a little hopeless. I don't feel sad. I feel anhedonic. I really feel flat. I'm just kind of emotionless except for anger and annoyance.
I feel tired. Exhausted really. Keeping my mental health in check is hard work. Not to mention that I only average around 5 hours of sleep a night (thank you brain and bladder). The exhaustion isn't just physical though - it's mostly mental and emotional, which sleep doesn't fix (although you best believe I try to fix it with sleep - I nap all the fucking time).
So today is my 9th day of feeling like crap again. After almost 3 months of being stable. Which leads me to believe that I'm heading into another episode. I'm trying not to believe that. Hubby is trying to get me not to believe that. My coworkers and friends are trying to get me not to believe that. But secretly? I believe that.
I'm trying to stay positive and counter and crush all of my negative thoughts. I'm trying to remind myself that I was stable and happy before, I can be that way again. I'm trying to stay busy and do things that I usually enjoy doing. I'm reading my positive affirmations. And you know what?
It's not working.
I'm just sort of . . . stuck. I don't know what to do other than ride this out and hope it doesn't last or get worse. What more can I do?
Anyway, happy birthday to me.
You know, depressed isn't really the right word. When I think of me being depressed, I think of sobbing and wanting to die and cutting myself and utter, bleak hopelessness. I'm not there yet. I'm, I don't know, more mild depression I guess. I feel down and flat and withdrawn and lost and yes, a little hopeless. I don't feel sad. I feel anhedonic. I really feel flat. I'm just kind of emotionless except for anger and annoyance.
I feel tired. Exhausted really. Keeping my mental health in check is hard work. Not to mention that I only average around 5 hours of sleep a night (thank you brain and bladder). The exhaustion isn't just physical though - it's mostly mental and emotional, which sleep doesn't fix (although you best believe I try to fix it with sleep - I nap all the fucking time).
So today is my 9th day of feeling like crap again. After almost 3 months of being stable. Which leads me to believe that I'm heading into another episode. I'm trying not to believe that. Hubby is trying to get me not to believe that. My coworkers and friends are trying to get me not to believe that. But secretly? I believe that.
I'm trying to stay positive and counter and crush all of my negative thoughts. I'm trying to remind myself that I was stable and happy before, I can be that way again. I'm trying to stay busy and do things that I usually enjoy doing. I'm reading my positive affirmations. And you know what?
It's not working.
I'm just sort of . . . stuck. I don't know what to do other than ride this out and hope it doesn't last or get worse. What more can I do?
Anyway, happy birthday to me.
Sunday, July 1, 2018
7/1/18
I don't really feel like writing but I'm trying to write something every couple of days or so. So here goes . . .
Just when I thought my hallucinations were tapering off they ramp themselves up again. I'm still seeing the usual shadow figures, demons, and orbs of light, but now I'm seeing something new and fun: dinner plate sized spiders crawling on the ceiling at night. Oh goody! Giant fucking spiders! I've seen them the past 3 nights. Every time I wake up to go to the bathroom (which is a lot because my bladder hates me) they're there. Crawling around being all creepy.
Now, most of the time my hallucinations don't bother me too much because I know they're just that - hallucinations. But these spiders man . . . God DAMN they creep me out! Even though I know they're not real. I don't like spiders and I certainly don't like ones the size of dinner plates. No. Fuck that shit.
In other news, my mood was overall a little better yesterday. I had periods where my mood dropped and I felt the familiar cloud over me and was flat and empty. But I also had periods where I was mostly okay. Which honestly was a breath of fresh air. And I actually felt excited for something (I ordered some books on interpersonal communication and interpersonal psychology because I'm a dork and want to learn stuff). Now I have something to look forward to (you'd think going on vacation in August would be the thing I'm looking forward to but I'm anxious as hell about that trip).
Now today . . . today I'm not sure yet how I'm doing. I feel down and withdrawn and I don't want to do anything. I just want the day to be over. But I'm not really depressed. Not like I have been at least. I guess maybe a different level of depression? I don't know. I'm still looking forward to my books which is a good sign but I kinda want to not exist. That's not good. So I'm not sure.
I was hoping yesterday was a sign that maybe I'm coming out of my depressive episode, but today I'm not so sure. One day at a time, I need to not get my hopes up but also not be negative about it either. I'll get there. I'll get through this. And I'll have my awesome books to keep me busy.
Just when I thought my hallucinations were tapering off they ramp themselves up again. I'm still seeing the usual shadow figures, demons, and orbs of light, but now I'm seeing something new and fun: dinner plate sized spiders crawling on the ceiling at night. Oh goody! Giant fucking spiders! I've seen them the past 3 nights. Every time I wake up to go to the bathroom (which is a lot because my bladder hates me) they're there. Crawling around being all creepy.
Now, most of the time my hallucinations don't bother me too much because I know they're just that - hallucinations. But these spiders man . . . God DAMN they creep me out! Even though I know they're not real. I don't like spiders and I certainly don't like ones the size of dinner plates. No. Fuck that shit.
In other news, my mood was overall a little better yesterday. I had periods where my mood dropped and I felt the familiar cloud over me and was flat and empty. But I also had periods where I was mostly okay. Which honestly was a breath of fresh air. And I actually felt excited for something (I ordered some books on interpersonal communication and interpersonal psychology because I'm a dork and want to learn stuff). Now I have something to look forward to (you'd think going on vacation in August would be the thing I'm looking forward to but I'm anxious as hell about that trip).
Now today . . . today I'm not sure yet how I'm doing. I feel down and withdrawn and I don't want to do anything. I just want the day to be over. But I'm not really depressed. Not like I have been at least. I guess maybe a different level of depression? I don't know. I'm still looking forward to my books which is a good sign but I kinda want to not exist. That's not good. So I'm not sure.
I was hoping yesterday was a sign that maybe I'm coming out of my depressive episode, but today I'm not so sure. One day at a time, I need to not get my hopes up but also not be negative about it either. I'll get there. I'll get through this. And I'll have my awesome books to keep me busy.
Wednesday, June 27, 2018
6/27/18
This is going to be a bunch of rambling, I apologize for that.
I was supposed to work yesterday, post partum. Monday night when I went to bed I was praying to be put on delayed start as I wasn't sure I'd be able to work. Tuesday morning came and my alarm went off. I hit the snooze but laid awake dreading getting up. I was already feeling bad. But my phone chimed with a text message from the night charge - I was being put on delayed start until 10am. I nearly cried. I went back to bed until 7:30, got up and showered, went downstairs to get break fast and coffee.
At 9:15 I called in to see if I would be needed or redelayed. I got news I didn't want to hear. I was going into work at 11. My heart sank. I wasn't sure I could handle it. Well, no choice now, I'm going into work. I went downstairs to finish a painting I had started Monday and actually finished it. Got ready and left for work.
I felt like crap. Depressed and anxious. I honestly wasn't sure I'd be able to keep up the facade of being okay. I got my assignment, a new c-section and a new vaginal delivery, made sure my rooms were set up, and got report. And it was fine. Everything was fine.
Except that it wasn't.
I felt like I was interacting okay but I wasn't feeling anything. There was nothing there except emptiness. There was just . . . nothing. I felt flat and emotionless. I didn't care. Not about my patients and not about my coworkers. I tried. I tried.
Here's the thing. I tried interacting, and I think I was mostly convincing, but I didn't try too hard.
Wait, what?
Yeah. I didn't try too hard. See, I've been told that I try too hard and in my quest for perfection I end up making things worse. I end up spoiling my mood. Because I'm not going to be perfect. No one is. But I expect myself to be and then when I'm not I make things worse.
So, I tried, but not too hard, and I was mostly convincing although all I felt was empty and flat and withdrawn and depressed and horrible. There were even times I went into the break room and curled up in a ball on the couch because I just couldn't handle how I was feeling. I wanted to curl up in a ball and not exist. But I settled for the couch. Luckily no one walked in on me.
I wanted to cut so bad but I didn't. I'm both proud of myself for that but also upset with myself. Part of me feels I should have just cut and part of me knows that's not an effective coping mechanism. So I'm torn.
I have therapy today for which I'm thankful because I really fucking need it. I feel like an hour isn't going to be enough time.
Anyway, I really don't know what to do anymore. I can't keep going on like this. I'm not that strong. This damn cloud won't leave me. And I don't. Know what. To do.
I was supposed to work yesterday, post partum. Monday night when I went to bed I was praying to be put on delayed start as I wasn't sure I'd be able to work. Tuesday morning came and my alarm went off. I hit the snooze but laid awake dreading getting up. I was already feeling bad. But my phone chimed with a text message from the night charge - I was being put on delayed start until 10am. I nearly cried. I went back to bed until 7:30, got up and showered, went downstairs to get break fast and coffee.
At 9:15 I called in to see if I would be needed or redelayed. I got news I didn't want to hear. I was going into work at 11. My heart sank. I wasn't sure I could handle it. Well, no choice now, I'm going into work. I went downstairs to finish a painting I had started Monday and actually finished it. Got ready and left for work.
I felt like crap. Depressed and anxious. I honestly wasn't sure I'd be able to keep up the facade of being okay. I got my assignment, a new c-section and a new vaginal delivery, made sure my rooms were set up, and got report. And it was fine. Everything was fine.
Except that it wasn't.
I felt like I was interacting okay but I wasn't feeling anything. There was nothing there except emptiness. There was just . . . nothing. I felt flat and emotionless. I didn't care. Not about my patients and not about my coworkers. I tried. I tried.
Here's the thing. I tried interacting, and I think I was mostly convincing, but I didn't try too hard.
Wait, what?
Yeah. I didn't try too hard. See, I've been told that I try too hard and in my quest for perfection I end up making things worse. I end up spoiling my mood. Because I'm not going to be perfect. No one is. But I expect myself to be and then when I'm not I make things worse.
So, I tried, but not too hard, and I was mostly convincing although all I felt was empty and flat and withdrawn and depressed and horrible. There were even times I went into the break room and curled up in a ball on the couch because I just couldn't handle how I was feeling. I wanted to curl up in a ball and not exist. But I settled for the couch. Luckily no one walked in on me.
I wanted to cut so bad but I didn't. I'm both proud of myself for that but also upset with myself. Part of me feels I should have just cut and part of me knows that's not an effective coping mechanism. So I'm torn.
I have therapy today for which I'm thankful because I really fucking need it. I feel like an hour isn't going to be enough time.
Anyway, I really don't know what to do anymore. I can't keep going on like this. I'm not that strong. This damn cloud won't leave me. And I don't. Know what. To do.
Monday, June 25, 2018
6/25/18
I said baby don't worry,
Cause it's all the same,
When we end the game . . .
The grey cloud has enveloped me today. And I'm struggling. It took me an hour to get out of bed this morning. I went downstairs and had breakfast and coffee and then I went back upstairs and got back in bed. For another hour. Just laying there. Then I got up and showered. I actually showered. I told myself I should be proud. I mean seriously. I didn't even want to get up to go pee.
But then it was back to bed, looking through Pinterest. Until my son came up to check on me and inform me that it was lunch time.
Yeah, whatever. Make it yourself.
That's what I thought. But I managed to get up and get lunch (which for me was a bowl of cereal because I have no appetite).
Now I'm just waiting for hubby to get home so we can go to the gym. Which he's probably going to have to force me to go because I don't want to do anything except lay in bed.
I don't want to go to the gym, I don't want to make dinner, I just want to curl in a ball and not exist. Can't I do that? At least until these bad feelings pass? I've had to fight back tears several times. I'm so tired of this. I broke down last night going to bed. Laying in bed in the dark crying. What fun. I'm really just so tired.
This needs to end.
I don't feel as strong as I was in the past. I'm trying to be. I'm trying not to let it show, I'm trying to be strong, but I don't feel it. I feel worn down. I feel like I can't keep up the facade.
I guess we'll find out.
Cause it's all the same,
When we end the game . . .
The grey cloud has enveloped me today. And I'm struggling. It took me an hour to get out of bed this morning. I went downstairs and had breakfast and coffee and then I went back upstairs and got back in bed. For another hour. Just laying there. Then I got up and showered. I actually showered. I told myself I should be proud. I mean seriously. I didn't even want to get up to go pee.
But then it was back to bed, looking through Pinterest. Until my son came up to check on me and inform me that it was lunch time.
Yeah, whatever. Make it yourself.
That's what I thought. But I managed to get up and get lunch (which for me was a bowl of cereal because I have no appetite).
Now I'm just waiting for hubby to get home so we can go to the gym. Which he's probably going to have to force me to go because I don't want to do anything except lay in bed.
I don't want to go to the gym, I don't want to make dinner, I just want to curl in a ball and not exist. Can't I do that? At least until these bad feelings pass? I've had to fight back tears several times. I'm so tired of this. I broke down last night going to bed. Laying in bed in the dark crying. What fun. I'm really just so tired.
This needs to end.
I don't feel as strong as I was in the past. I'm trying to be. I'm trying not to let it show, I'm trying to be strong, but I don't feel it. I feel worn down. I feel like I can't keep up the facade.
I guess we'll find out.
Monday, June 18, 2018
6/18/18
Do you know how difficult it is to do cardio when you can't stop crying? I found out this morning. On my spin bike. I could only do 10 minutes because I was sobbing and I couldn't stop. The ugly cry but silent because my son was just upstairs and I didn't want him to see me, I didn't want him to know.
I meant to get up early this morning. I even had my alarm set. But I didn't. No, I laid in bed for an hour contemplating everything and nothing. Everything just seems so pointless. So I laid in bed. After that hour I finally got up, mainly because I had to use the bathroom. But I figured, well, I'm up, I might as well have breakfast and coffee.
So I did.
And I perused Instagram and Facebook. And I realized I wasn't feeling all that good. I realized today might be tough. I realized that despite my best efforts I wasn't going to make it to the gym this afternoon. I realized that if I was going to get my workout in I'd have to do it at home.
I psyched myself up, went downstairs, and got on the spin bike. The first 5 minutes were actually okay. See? You can do this! You got this!
Except . . . except the tears started falling. I wiped them away and pushed on. I'm working out dammit, we're not doing this.
My brain is an asshole though. It didn't listen. Instead it brought on the darkness. It bombarded me with an endless stream of negative thoughts. It caught me off guard and I was powerless against it.
So I cried. I sobbed. I fogged up my fucking glasses. I made my way to the bathroom to blow my nose and I tried countering the negative thoughts with good ones. Positive ones. Happy ones. Clancy, my brain, doesn't give up easily though. I sat down on the floor and stared at my hands for 20 minutes trying to gain control.
Finally . . . slowly . . . I was able to gain control. But the darkness was still there. That heavy, depressive feeling was still enveloping me.
And it has been all day.
Today is a tough one.
I meant to get up early this morning. I even had my alarm set. But I didn't. No, I laid in bed for an hour contemplating everything and nothing. Everything just seems so pointless. So I laid in bed. After that hour I finally got up, mainly because I had to use the bathroom. But I figured, well, I'm up, I might as well have breakfast and coffee.
So I did.
And I perused Instagram and Facebook. And I realized I wasn't feeling all that good. I realized today might be tough. I realized that despite my best efforts I wasn't going to make it to the gym this afternoon. I realized that if I was going to get my workout in I'd have to do it at home.
I psyched myself up, went downstairs, and got on the spin bike. The first 5 minutes were actually okay. See? You can do this! You got this!
Except . . . except the tears started falling. I wiped them away and pushed on. I'm working out dammit, we're not doing this.
My brain is an asshole though. It didn't listen. Instead it brought on the darkness. It bombarded me with an endless stream of negative thoughts. It caught me off guard and I was powerless against it.
So I cried. I sobbed. I fogged up my fucking glasses. I made my way to the bathroom to blow my nose and I tried countering the negative thoughts with good ones. Positive ones. Happy ones. Clancy, my brain, doesn't give up easily though. I sat down on the floor and stared at my hands for 20 minutes trying to gain control.
Finally . . . slowly . . . I was able to gain control. But the darkness was still there. That heavy, depressive feeling was still enveloping me.
And it has been all day.
Today is a tough one.
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