I sat down last night to write about one of the more emotional subjects for me but after an hour of rambling and almost 1000 words, I realized I’d done nothing but skirt the issue. Clearly I am not ready to deal with it. I should be able to accept this and move on but I can’t. To say I have been low the last couple of days would be an understatement. Truth is, I am a mess. I had these ideas that I would start writing about my journey, move past a few issues I hadn’t really faced, and I’d somehow be in recovery. Now, only a few posts in, I’m scared that exploring these issues is opening up this chasm that will swallow me up and never let me out. I am beginning to wonder if I might be better off sealing it shut again.
I feel so alone. At first I did feel quite empowered by starting this blog, but now I don’t even feel like I’ve shared anything with you yet. I keep talking about being honest but it seems I’m just not ready to bare my heart and soul. I suppose I could just write it in a journal just to get it out of my head. I don’t have to share that I’ve just had one of my worst days since admitting I have depression in the first place. However, since starting this up, I have discovered that there is this terribly needy person that I didn’t know was lurking just beneath the surface.
I really really need to know I’m not alone in this.
Please tell me I’m not the only one who still feels this crappy when their baby is now actually a toddler and hasn’t been a baby for months.
I feel weak. I cried my way to work this morning. I’m not actually sure how I made it through the day but I did. Thank goodness for auto-pilot because I really cannot afford not to function. Every time my mind wandered from the task at hand, I could feel my chest tighten, the anxiety returning, the foreboding feeling that all was about to go or is going wrong. I worked through a lot of my lunch, pushing these horrendous feelings away.
I feel pathetic. I feel invisible. I don’t even want to think about how many times I’ve checked my site counter to see if anyone has visited my blog. I need to know I’m being read for some reason. This blog was supposed to be about sharing my story, not caring about how many people liked what I’d written. I feel like I’m a teenager again, watching the popular crowd, pretending I don’t really care but wanting badly to be accepted into their fold. (my failure to bond with other moms is a post for another day)
I feel useless. I feel like I have lost who I am and I have no idea how to find my way back. Even though I accept that I will never be the same again, I have no idea how to adapt so it is another element in my life. Instead I feel like I’m just scrambling to keep up in someone else’s life.
I feel like a burden. I feel like there’s only so much of this my husband can handle when there is so much else to try to deal with. I feel like my friends shouldn’t have to hear me moaning one more time. I wanted so bad to be able to do this on my own so I would no longer have to bother them with any of this. I have failed. I am not strong enough to do it on my own.
I am fed-up. I cannot go on feeling like this. Anti-depressants are not enough. It’s breaking my heart. It’s breaking me. I will find help once I find the strength to look. I fear if I don’t get better soon, I will be even more empty, alone, and broken than I am now.
I am done for today. Thank you for reading. I have used every ounce of ‘happy’ for the outside world and needed to get this poison out so I can start fresh again tomorrow.
Please let it be a better day.