The ‘me’ right now

There’s a part of me that gets that the way I’m feeling and acting is not normal or even sane. I want you all to get a sense of what it feels like to be in my head, I want to get a sense of it for myself when I feel better so I remember what this was like.

I don’t want to be ME right now. The “ME right now” is worthless and stupid and an attention seeker and a loser. I’m ugly and old and fat and who the hell would ever want to date me, let alone be my friend?  The “ME right now” thinks that everyone is secretly talking behind my back and calling me a pathetic loser who is socially inept.  My future is hopeless. I’m a 50 year old washed up, washed out, nobody whose life is less than average. I’ll never trust anyone enough to let them into my life, my daughter will eventually leave me, either to go to school when she’s older or because she seriously can’t stand who I am anymore and then, no matter what, I’ll be alone.

I don’t want to be ME right now.

It takes effort to breathe, because this lump in my chest is huge and won’t go away. Nothing I do makes me happy. The more unhappy I am, the more hopeless things are. I’m tired all the time but I can’t sleep very well. I see shadows when I wake up in the middle of the night; they seem so real that I’m reaching out to bat them away in terror before they dissolve into smoke.

I’m on the verge of crying all the time. I want to talk about how I feel, but talking takes effort and sometimes I can’t even open my mouth to do that much. I realize how completely negative my thoughts are and I don’t want to burden anyone with them.  Even this post is causing me to feel anxious and guilty. I’m torn between posting it and scrapping it but I feel like people really should see what depression is about.  It’s so incredibly hard to be ME right now. My brain is spinning a 1000 miles a minute and I can’t turn it off.

 I need help to be the me I used to be.

But I’m functioning.  I did the laundry, the dishes, made my bed, and rode my bike to the Drs office and back. I’m struggling to keep my routines as normal as I can.  I’m looking forward to the meds. I’m upset and disappointed at myself for going back on them but I know I need them. I need help to be the me I used to be. My daughter does not need to be a part of my illness, but she is and for that, the guilt piles up a little more.

I’m realizing that it IS an illness. It’s an insidious one. I started feeling down a few months ago. I had that health scare that scared me for a couple of weeks but I bounced back. I had a hassle with work about the trip out west, but I bounced back. Then I found out a friend had died and I had lost contact with the family and couldn’t properly say goodbye but I did my best to bounce back. Another work related hassle that should have been a medium irritant happened and I crashed. It happened that fast.

I told my doctor two months ago that I was struggling. I told him again a month ago.  I knew it was coming. I thought, like last year, that I could ward it off, or manage it.

Apparently not this year.

I will get better, I’ll try not to feel the shame of it, but there IS shame in it. My boss told me not to tell the HR person, that it wasn’t her business. If I had cancer, or a broken leg, or shingles, no one would be telling me NOT to tell the HR person. There IS shame to this illness because it’s not evident to other people unless I make it evident. No one likes hearing about mental illness. There is stigma attached to it. Or maybe, that’s just my opinion too.

This, too, is a part of ME.

The meds will kick in and I’ll start to see more clearly, more positively. In a few months this will be a memory, one that I won’t want to dwell on. I’ll be reminded every time I take a pill that I need to take them so I don’t slide back into this.

This, too, is a part of ME.

I just don’t want to be ME right now.  But, soon, I will want to be. I’m waiting for the sun.