Continuing to survive

I guess that is the most honest way to label what I'm up to this past week. I'm gasping for life and slowly getting enough to keep going. I missed work yesterday because I couldn't move. Today I was there but I didn't do much. I have a large project due in 23 hours that I have not yet begun to work on. I didn't call my friend to talk about how to handle this depression because I didn't want to sob my way through a conversation.

I did email my doctor awhile ago, asking to be put back on antidepressants. I figure dreaming of death and suicide for two weeks straight and not being able to stop the sadness, being broken at the core is good enough reason. It helped before, maybe it can help again. I hate the fact that I feel I have to justify why I need medical help.

Really I want to lay on my bed and scream into a pillow until my throat won't utter another sound. I want to holler out this pain. I want someone to hold me while I weep out the sadness. I want strong arms around me to keep me safe from myself while I cry it out. I'm not a danger to myself physically - I won't suicide or cut or burn or any of the other things. But this endless sadness wounds me just the same. It is as if someone is in there, squeezing my heart like a sponge. My eyes are tired and red from the tears. My bones are weary. My back is tired. Everything just hurts and it's not letting up.

I've been through this before. I will survive it somehow. I may be weaker and worse for the wear but I will make it through to a more peaceful time. My boss told me to be gentle with myself. Sound words, but they seem so far away. For now, it's just a veil of tears. With the occasional breath.

Dead weight

I wish I could go 20 minutes without crying.

I think that much of this is tied to my family. I love my family but they stress me out. And now that we are in a couple of weeks of big family time (2 birthdays and mother's day), the expectations of time are greater. And last year's birthday for me was SUCH a disaster, I'm just on edge. There is already plenty of anxiety about the 35 for me next week. I just want to curl up and hide. Or at least hibernate for a few months in the home with the beastly creatures. They are my refuge in this world. I know that makes me a bad Christian (along with a million other things) but I often need something tangible and my cats are my lifeline.

I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of having no one to call without interrupting someone else's life. I'm tired of making plans with others only to have them cancel or change, leaving me in the lurch. I'm tired of people expecting that the single woman will fit into their schedule. I'm tired of behaving poorly and of sabotaging myself. I'm tired of the swirling cycle. I'm tired of being sad. I'm tired of being self conscious. I'm tired of being fat. I'm tired of exercising without toning up or losing weight. I'm tired of being humiliated for being myself. I'm just tired of life. I'm 35 next week and statistically speaking, I should expect to live until around 80. I simply cannot fathom another 45 years on this planet. That is the reality of my reality. I have no desire to live, yet I cannot die.

Growling

I tend to find that when I get grouchy and irritable for no reasonable reason, that I am in some sort of physical pain that I have been ignoring. I'm in pain frequently and I often ignore it. I don't know why.

This week has been challenging, to type the least. Credit card fraud, dental work, dental bill in the stratosphere, grandmother dying, work imbalanced, no rhythm to life, etc.

I'm discovering that grieving my grandmother's mental and physical decline over the past year and a half has not reduced the amount of grief at the time of her impending death. Grief does not accrue on account. It will be relieved sorrow when she passes, as her condition now is so heartbreakingly sad. I really really don't want to get dementia.

My Nun comes home in two weeks. I pray we can match schedules though I know her family takes precedence.

I'm too tired to cry anymore this week.