“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.” -Laurell K. Hamilton
I am giving this my best effort to write. I am in a depression once again but it is not a deep depression. Creativity comes easier to me when I am in a deep depression for some reason. My brain likes it when I am suffering and then it lets me write ridiculous poems about monocled fish that speak French and such. This kind of depression is a zombie depression. One where I am lost and don’t want to go anywhere, nor see anyone, nor get up in the morning, nor even talk (that’s a first). The sadness is kept away by the Risperidon leaving me with a hollow feeling but the drive to live is not there nor is the happiness seen in anything. Everything just IS….totally FLAT….to the point I feel like I am barely breathing.
Yet I feel I am down but not out because I know it could be worse, it has been a few months back. I’m also trying to harness some positive energy even if I don’t want to. I figure too bad, do it anyway. Try to smile. Tomorrow when my father’s health aide comes to visit him I will have to pretend to be cheerful and put on a happy face, so if I can do it then I can try other times. I just wish it was like the old days and came naturally. I was a wild woman and would light up a room. Now I am an old, tired dust mop standing in the corner. Oh well, it will be my Dad’s birthday tomorrow too. He’ll be 95. Too bad his dementia prevents him from really knowing what it is and the significance of his age. My older daughter made him a cake and we have a card for him that he may tear up but that’s to be expected.
I’m considering doing one of those 30 day challenges again just to do something because I am at a loss for words. Maybe a photo challenge or finish one of my other ones (finally). I’ll see tomorrow.
Do you know what time it is?
Have you any idea?
I’m not sure if I am human, so I’m not worried about the time. My brain has stopped to cease its functionality as it was meant to perform. It only operates at sub-par operational methodology. Why do we exist at all? Why are we here? My younger one is mad at me tonight. What purpose must I serve for her. My medication causes my emotions to cease so I feel no empathy towards her. She is mad=so what. End of story. That is how I feel. This is how they (the doctors) want me, I guess. No emotion….yet, I do have them just not tonight. What is right, what is wrong? Who decides for me? It is me and no one else. I decide that there is no wrong because there is no emotion. No emotion means no morals. How can there be?
I feel NOTHING.
I think I’ve finally burned out. I’m tired of taking care of others. Tired of taking pills, tired of doing the work for free, just plain sick and tired of the day-to-day hum-drum. I’m also feeling ashamed of myself for not caring for not having the fight to continue. This has be a constant struggle now for weeks. I’m tired of all of this ever since the water leaked out of the washing machine. I’ve felt like I just can’t take any more of this whole stupid shit. I’m still trying to get that fixed too. Because of the age of the house and the way my Dad plumbed the pipe sixty years ago , the whole thing will have to be pulled out and a new one will have to be put in. I’m terrified of the whole thing. I wanted to have the washer put into the basement never to be seen again but that would cost close to $4000 and run the risk of shattering the main drain because it was so old, something called victory pipe from WWI . All I know is this damn washer will still be in my kitchen and I hate it.I must have been swept away in a flood or a raging torrent because this is scaring the hell out of me.
I also fell off the wagon and went back to drinking. I don’t even care either. I’m so disgusted with the way my life is I just don’t care. I’ll stop when I feel like it or get sick or when the doctor yells at me or something drives me more insane. I don’t know what to say about it. At least I’m not out of control and I’m not drinking to the excess that I was in the summer. I’ve decided to do more reading instead. I have a drink and then relax with some TV or read. I have one of those electronic readers, mine is a Kindle, and after getting a gift certificate for my birthday I got some new books. First I’m reading a free book that came with my new cell phone. I’m reading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland again. I read it 100 years ago but it’s light escapism is nice to read before going to sleep at night. I like the part of the book when she meets up with the Cheshire Cat and asks for directions away from the madness:
But I don’t want to go among mad people,’ Alice remarked.
`Oh, you can’t help that,’ said the Cat: `we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.’
`How do you know I’m mad?’ said Alice.
`You must be,’ said the Cat, `or you wouldn’t have come here.’
That’s how I feel being in this house among my family. I’ll never get better because I’m among them and this situation. I want so badly to get away from this place but I can’t even go away to the mental hospital. I just got this visual of me being a scarecrow with a big pole stuffed up my backside. I’m stuck in a field to scare away the birds. I do my job but it’s lonely and I can’t escape and the others constantly come and pick away at me.
SHOO….GET AWAY…..YOU’RE DRIVING ME NUTS…..SHOO…… I JUST WANT A MOMENTS PEACE…..NO RESPONSIBILITY …..GET AWAY
Everyone thinks you’re doing such a great job and constantly tells you how wonderful you are and then goes away. Meanwhile the flood waters get deeper and you slowly drown.
I came home to find you sitting in the corner.
You didn’t say a word to me.
Had I done something wrong for the silence to greet me.
The rain fell like tiny crystals all about. It fell outside the window and outside my heart. Yet the coldness had not invaded my soul. I wondered how much more I could stand of this loneliness that you brought me.
Not speaking, no laughing, nothing to say that I mattered. Maybe I didn’t matter. Maybe none of this mattered. Was any of it real. Am I fooling myself to believe that it’s real. Am I even awake? What if I’ve been sleeping the whole time and it’s not even happened? What will I find when I awaken? WHO ARE YOU? Does any of it even matter? Will I ever know if it is real or an illusion? When all about seems like it is failing I can fall into an abyss and wake up on the other side, a side that is filled with everything that is right. A side with No Mental Illness, no illness at all. Maybe I will be not so transparent to the world and people will see me. My words will be meaningful. Their contents not so translucent. Will a time exist when we are important? We’re important because we love. We love more than others and are not so judgemental. We care because we recognize ourselves in all that is good and so we can go on, as ONE.