Here I am again. (Stuck in Margaritaville) Awake at 5 am. What the hell is wrong with my sleep cycle? I can't still be jetlagged 3 weeks in, can I? Every night it seems, my eyes droop and my limbs ache and sag, and I can't help but crawl into bed around 11 or 11:30. And then come 5 or 6 the next morning, I'm wide eyed and walking around and still feel tired, but absolutely can't get back to sleep. My poor roommate – she's started sleeping in the living room every night because of this. Which I honestly appreciate, but still feel bad for.
Some part of me hopes this is the medication finally kicking in. Don't people say the rate of suicides goes up on Prozac because it gives you energy back before eliminating the actual depression? Not that I'm on Prozac, but I imagine it's the same for all SSRIs. I dunno if I would call this actually 'energy,' though. More agitation. Nervousness. Like some weird toxic kind of caffeine, even though I've mostly given it up lately. I used to sleep all the time when I was depressed, but now I can't do that because I'm so damn restless. Which means I have a lot of free time to sit around and not feel like I can do anything, which is probably my least favorite state in the whole damn world.
I've been seriously sucking it up at work lately. Bouncing around, talking to people, asking about new projects, sitting in meetings, all to avoid actually doing what my boss wants. I don't know if it's because I think it's "hard" or because it's not something I want to do. I don't know what I want to do. I wrote a rather lengthy entry in my paper journal on that subject last night, but in my newfound committment to not give a damn about where/when/why/how I write and just write, I'm not going to copy it here. I usually write on paper at work because typing in a blog isn't kosher anyways, but when there's a big banner that says 'DEPRESSION TRIBE' at the top, that's a lot more embarrassing.
When I get on my computer these days, I run out of things to do very quickly. Even if I had motivation when I started, after checking my email and rss feeds and facebook and email again, I stop. There's nothing else to do. And so I start writing… Which is good for me, I guess. Certainly more productive than other activities. At the same time, I never know when to stop. I never feel like I actually complete my thoughts, my sayings – it's as if I have so much things to say that I can just write forever and never get to the end. Honestly, that sounds kind of wonderful right now. Just writing, for as long as I can. Filling up this screen, and filling up my journal, and writing on the walls and ceilings and body and forcing my thoughts into the world around me, just to get them out of my head. I don't really want to lose my thoughts, though… It's more a needle in the haystack sort of thing. Something in there is poisoning me, but I can't find which one so I keep pouring and pouring, hoping to bring the apple out with the water.
