Cried a lot.

I went to the hospital for ketamine and told the nurse there (when I was all blasted) about Beth’s “vision from God” that I’ve done this to myself by choosing the dark path, whatever that is. The nurse looked kind of incredulous and encouraged me not to let that take hold in my thoughts.

Then I want to see the nurse facilitator in the outpatient department, and basically cried for an hour and a half.  I went back to work for an hour, and then went to see my counsellor and cried hard at him for a solid hour. Then I went back to work, looked up the Depeche Mode tour dates, and realized that it’s over 200 days away.  I’m struggling with the idea of getting through the next 17 days for their album release. I honestly can’t identify anything to live for, besides seeing them in concert, and I just can’t imagine going on feeling this badly.

“Obsolete” by Regina Spektor

https://youtu.be/KkqCfLq5CPo

This is how I feel right now

Obsolete manuscript

No one reads and no one needs

Pages lost, incomplete

No one knows what it means

Minds grow dark, so suddenly

I was lost on your street

Hey I’m talking to myself

I can hear you listening in

To my thoughts, to my dreams

What I want, can’t compete

Obsolete

Take me to the water’s edge

Let me stand in the sand

Let me hear the waves crash-land

Useless part

This useless heart

Useless art

What am I? Why I am I

Incomplete?

Obsolete

This is how it feels right now

Obsolete manuscript

No one reads, no one needs

Useless part

This useless heart

Useless art

What am I? Why I am I

Incomplete?

Obsolete

All I want

Can’t compete

All I want

Is a sleep

All I want

Incomplete

All I want

Obsolete

Thoughts on the work week.

I think that I’m not going to be able to keep this up, is what I think. I made it to work 2 days in a row this week (yesterday and today) and I was crying at the end of both days. Doing 5 days a week… more than that, because I have to go get ketamine for half a day every two weeks and so I have to make the time up if I want to get paid; I have to see my neurologist Monday afternoon, my psychiatrist wants me in every week, and I feel like he already knows I will fail and is just waiting for it to happen so he can be like “OK, now you can be on unemployment and have some time to sort this stuff out.” 

I fucking regret so hard being certified last month. Obviously I was running at a deficit because I’d shown up in jeans and a hoodie with no shower, planning to go to work right after (hoodie and jeans do not equal business casual) and announced that I was ready to rumble because now it was after Christmas, and I really thought he’d say “Oh, let’s try some more things first” and write out a prescription and that would be that. I want to know, is it just that I said I had a date picked out, or was it how I was coming across, or what?  I don’t want to make that mistake a second time but I need to keep functioning until I… decide not to.

The difference between being depressed and having depression.

So I had a phone call last night with Beth, where she said that “life is just hard… for everybody” and reminded me that at least I had a job now (as long as I can hold it together at least) and in the past I was depressed and didn’t have a job. The implication was, couldn’t I be thankful for my blessings, or less depressed, because there are people worse off than me, etc. etc.

I found this great article this morning and sent it to her:
http://jameskennison.com/the-difference-between-being-depressed-and-having-depression/

Having feelings about negative circumstances equals being depressed. Having horrible, persistent feelings that external circumstances really don’t affect all that much is having depression.

I really hope she is able to understand it. I know she has never been depressed, and I know she really does care and wants to help. It just seems like her attempts make me feel unheard or misunderstood.

Like last night, for example, I explained how I’d started cleaning my study at home (2nd bedroom that is set up as an office) and have already got a full carload of stuff to take to the Goodwill. Like an entire box of hardback cookbooks – yep, let’s just put those in the Donate pile. I’m not even eating now, and it doesn’t look like I’ll ever have anyone to cook for, so what’s the fucking point?  I feel like I can let go of them without attachment or regret.

But then, that’s a scary feeling because I feel like I don’t know where to stop. Everything in my house, basically, is equipment for a life that is never going to happen. For a partner that doesn’t exist, for hobbies I no longer enjoy, for a lifestyle I am never going to be able to have. So why not just back a dumpster up to the door and say the hell with it, and shovel my entire life into it?

Anyway, back to Beth – she was like “Oh yeah I recycled a couple of cooking magazines last week…” and like NO, you aren’t relating to me right now. I am saying that I bought and loved these books and moved and carried them across the country three times and now they seem totally useless, which would be okay if I’d outgrown them or developed new interests but everything has just withered away without anything to replace it.

Still tired…

But the lunchtime Dexedrine is helping. My wrist looks so bad. I would probably consider a coverup tattoo, but I’m not thinking that long term yet. 

My favourite band, Depeche Mode, is going on tour this fall. I missed their last tour due to depression and if I can’t make this one (it will involve a flight and hotel as they won’t be coming near me) I seriously think I will kill myself in the fall. If I make it to fall, of course.

Day 1.

First full day of work. I’m so fucking exhausted. I was basically brain-fried after 5 hours so I have no idea how I’ll keep this up. I don’t want to be here but now I’m not in the right frame of kind to leave. It’s so lonely.

Dinner was 4 Triscuits and a glass of juice.

A day is so long!

I fucking ripped through today… I guess the thyroid supplement is working, as I have had a decent amount of energy… but it’s only 8:45; a couple of hours to go before I can go to bed.

I cleaned the kitchen, and I’m talking crazy cleaned. Put leather stuff and lemon oil on my 50s style chairs, cleaned the crumb tray in the toaster, washed all the dishes, wiped all the counters and shelves, mopped the floor. 

And that’s great, but what will I do with myself next weekend?