Saturday, October 26, 2013

How Much More?

I'm heartbroken.  I think that's part of my problem.  I feel like everything I had hoped for myself is just not meant to be.  I'm not in a relationship.  I'm not married.  I have no kids.  I don't have a career, much less one in federal law enforcement.  I work a part-time job that a 20 year old could do.  Doesn't require much know-how on my part.  I have no specialized training or skills that make me any kind of commodity, aside from a wicked affinity for sleep, and the ability to sleep 20 out of any given 24 hours.

My self-esteem has almost certainly reached kaput status.  I don't care what I look like when I leave the house most days.  I haven't showered since....Sunday?  Maybe?  I know I washed my hair on like, Tuesday, but that's about it.  I've essentially stopped taking care of myself.  I don't eat much, and if I do eat, it's junk.  Yesterday, it was a bag of powdered donuts and triscuits with spreadable brie on them.

I don't know what rock bottom really looks like, but every time I think I've reached it, I realize that there's at least one more level to go, and I keep hitting levels further and further down there.

I don't know how to get better.  And I mostly don't care.  Which is a really, really bad thing.  I don't know what else to do.  I have nothing driving me.  No force.  No one person that I get up every day for.  No real legitimate reason for getting out of bed.  This is spectacularly awful.

I know that I have this option of specialized outpatient treatment, which everyone says is a great idea (but yeah, they don't have to be the ones to go), but it's going to take work to get out there and do it, and I don't know if I have the energy to get out there and make it happen.

Depression makes you hopeless.  I am about as hopeless as hopeless gets.  Depression makes you feel worthless.  I feel about as worthless as humanly possible.  I feel unlovable, unhappy, misunderstood, and overall just plain shitty.  I couldn't summon up care or joy or an iota of happiness if my life depended on it at this point, I think.  Today, I learned that my own "best friend" thinks that I just don't try hard enough to be happy.  And this is after I have explained to her, as many ways as I know how, that trying to be happy is simply not an option.

"Hey, there!  Yeah, you, in the wheelchair!!  Have you tried harder to just get up and start walking?!  Come on!  I know you can do it.  See?  Watch me do it.  It's not that hard.  I just don't think you're trying hard enough.  You just must not want to be able to walk.  I bet you like sitting in that wheelchair..."

If I could come up with any other possible ways of explaining that just because someone else can get through a tough emotional time just with some good ol' drive and confidence, doesn't mean that everyone else can do it the same way, I would.

At this point all I have left in my arsenal is sadness and anxiety and those aren't exactly tools so much as self-destructive devices that seem to only increase in depth the longer they're all that's left.

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