Well, I was hoping I'd wake up this morning and feel better, but definitely don't. I feel like I should just crawl back in bed and pretend that the world doesn't exist. It's amazing to me that I can walk around with this ragged, jagged hole in my chest and my heart still beats. In some manner I should be dead, but I guess in some ways I already am. I don't mean that I intend in any way to harm myself, but already I am maimed in so many ways. I feel lost in a world that doesn't care about me or people like me. I don't feel like there's anybody I can call or talk to that could make me feel better, yet I ache to hear someone say "Come, let me take some of this pain away from you."
I'm disgusted with myself. I had to call out of work because I couldn't function well enough to go in today. It makes me so mad that my FEELINGS can prevent me from working. And no one except for people that have dealt with a mood disorder themselves can understand what I'm talking about. I hate that I had to let down my colleagues today and my management team. I wish I could just force myself when I feel bad, but I know it will only make things worse. I'll just feel more awful if I do try to go when I'm a mess like this.
I wish I could cry. The need to is right behind my green eyes, the pressure of tears, but they won't come. I've tried to make myself cry but nothing comes forward, so I keep getting frustrated by the constant need to cry and not being able to. I need the tears to cleanse me of these feelings of worthlessness and melancholy, need to let forth my ache in some physical way. How do I do it? Do I watch a sad movie and let the tears come that way? Do I allow myself to read a book that will pull me in and make me bawl for the characters, like it's my own pain? Do I think back on a horrible memory that makes the tears stream like hot lava down my pale cheeks? What do I do?
I go see my therapist tonight. I'm not sure how I feel about this because I feel like a failure because I don't feel good and I don't want her to see me like this. I know she cares and I'm supposed to talk about how I feel with her, but I don't want to hear how I'm supposed to fight and pull myself through this one step at a time. I know that already. I know that this is my battle alone and that's what makes it so hard for me. It's me alone against this monstrous illness and it's affects. Then I feel bad for feeling bad for myself and get angry…the vicious cycle continues on and on.
I guess I should be grateful that I'm alive, that I'm breathing and able to write this ~ but today I don't really feel grateful for anything. Living is such a difficult business sometimes, and there are times that I just want to lay down and wave the white rag of defeat for death to come get me. I don't want to want to quit, I've got too much to live for ~ but I'm just so damn tired of it all.
But I have a child to think about. I love him too much to give up and hurt him like that. So I keep pushing myself to go on day by day, hoping things will get better. And I have my husband and my Mom and friends to think about too and how it would affect them if I did something so selfish and stupid. So instead I immerse myself in sleep and books and anything that doesn't take much effort.
Luckily I won't be working again until June because school is over with after tomorrow for Zachary. Having him home will be a help to me I think ~ I'll have someone else to focus on instead of my thoughts and feelings. I'm trying to pull inward on myself and I know that's exactly what I shouldn't do. That's why I'm writing this poison, to try to expel it from my head.
Again, maybe tomorrow will bring about change. Maybe not. But all I can do is wait and see what happens and deal with it as it comes. I hate this.