It seems someone with depression can’t do enough to please everyone else. Surely if we took more drugs, did more therapy, read more books, got more exercise, we would feel better… and if we don’t, we can suffer silently, sacrificially, for everyone else’s comfort.
I was beyond exhausted on Friday. I felt like I could have literally fallen asleep at work. I went home and straight to sleep, as in KO’ed by 5 pm, then slept until 10 Saturday morning.
So that is 17 hours there. I still felt exhausted but managed one load of laundry at the end of the night because I had literally no clean underwear.
I woke up today, Sunday, at 4:30 in the afternoon. There’s an empty foil blister pack of a migraine drug in bed with me, so I assume I woke up and took it.
My head doesn’t hurt anymore, but I feel totally and completely out of it.
I don’t even know how to describe this state of confused exhaustion. Am I experiencing depersonalization, or derealization, or disorientation? Is there nothing to do but wait for it to go away?