As exhausting as the very rapid rapid cycling was, I think I would trade it back in exchange for this constant depression. I am stuck in quicksand and there seems to be no way out. I have contemplated suicide more than I would like to admit to, but each time the faces of my children popped to mind and I just couldn’t go through with it. I am thankful for that, and yet I can’t see the point of me staying alive as is. What good am I to anyone, much less children, if I am this withdrawn and caged in misery? I’m sure I will know the answer to that once I feel better, but right now I don’t, and it makes the struggle to hang on all the more pointless to me. What’s more, I only feel like a burden to my fiance. I know he would care if I could explain how I am feeling, but there just aren’t any words for it. There’s a barrier between me and everyone who knows me. An airtight barrier that I can’t get around, under or over.
I’ve reached that point where I don’t care that the house is a mess. Last week I felt awful about it, but now I don’t even care if I die with it looking this messy. I just don’t care. Last week I also had no appetite, so I didn’t eat. This week, I’m still not hungry, but I keep eating to distract myself from the depression: it isn’t working, but I continue to do it. I think I purposely want to gain weight so I can hate myself even more.
I don’t care if I survive.
One thing I do care about, however, is all the things I am increasingly paranoid over. I think everything is directed toward me, especially on Facebook. That place is the devil. I think people are intentionally ignoring me, or that I am annoying them, or that they absolutely hate me. Or all of the above. I even lashed out at one person because I feel like he was intentionally trying to hurt me…and I still feel that way, but I also feel like I should probably apologize. But then I’m afraid he will not care about my apology, and that will just hurt even more.
I also am very sure the world is about to come to an end. I can feel it in the air, and it’s thick and nasty…but I don’t really care about that much right now. It would save me a lot of trouble if it did.
I want to take a lot of pills and sleep for a long time. When I wake up, this same feeling will hit me in the face as soon as my eyes open, so then I’ll want to take more pills and sleep even longer. As it is, I can’t do that at all because I have a two year old to take care of. And please know that he is not any sort of danger. I am exhausted and depressed and apathetic, but I do still care for my son. I may not be a jolly mom right now, but he’s not being neglected. And if I had someone to look after him for me I would. Or wouldn’t, because I don’t like imposing on anyone. I do still care about other people, just not about myself.
I told my fiance earlier today that I miss the food at the last mental hospital I was in. I do. I really liked their food. I guess it’s sort of bad when a mental hospital produces more nostalgic thoughts of home than your actual home does. I can’t afford to go to that good food hospital anyway. It would be off to the horrible state run hospital that feels more like a prison and the food is awful. And in case you think all I care about is the food, you’re right. But in all honesty, the quality of food in a place often signifies the overall quality of everything else. And good food is comforting. Whether you are hungry for it or not.