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Lost

I am confused. And I am hurting. I feel like everything is falling apart and I don’t know how to put it back together.

The tape and glue only mask everything, and nothing is holding. I don’t know what to do.

I feel like the life that I have built is empty and meaningless and I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to turn. I don’t know where to go.

I feel out of control. On the inside I am screaming, pulling my hair, clenching my fists, holding back with every breath. While on the outside, I am collected. I am calm. But I feel anything but calm! I want to scream! I want to cry! I want to fall apart.

I am afraid. And I am confused. And I am hurting.

My stomach hurts. My heart is pounding. My breathing is erratic. I don’t know what to do.

My mind is racing. A million miles an hour in a million directions. No one will tell me what to do.

I don’t think that I am unsafe, but I don’t want to be alone. But I don’t want to be with people either.

What do I do? How do I control this? Running running running and there is nothing that I can do to stop it.

Restless, breathless, hopeless. What do I do?

I don’t understand what’s going on. There are circumstances that I am not prepared for, though I thought that I was. I want to go home, but I can’t stand being at home. I am doing no good here. What do I do?

Where do I turn when things go like this? When I can’t stop long enough to deal with what thoughts are in my head. And there is nothing that I can do. It looks like I’m calm. My fingers racing across the keyboard. Thoughts racing and bouncing around in my head. What am I going to do?

Maybe this is over. Maybe this is my brain telling my heart that this is the end. That I need to pick up and move on while I still can move. Before things get messier and I destroy everything that I have ever aspired to be.

Darkness clouds my thoughts, well I wish it would. Then I would have a moment’s peace. There is no peace. And I don’t know where to turn.

I don’t want to speak ill of things, airing dirty laundry never got me anywhere. But I have to talk to someone. And the one person that I need to talk to is too busy to talk to me. Not only that  but they could careless. I wish I had that air about me.

I’m vulnerable. I feel wounded. I am lost. And I don’t know how to save myself.

I am anything but fine. And I don’t know what to do.

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Helping Family Understand…

I’m rewriting this for my family, so that they might understand better. I don’t want you to be scared, or hurt. But I want you to understand what I deal with on a daily basis. This takes a lot of courage, because I’m baring my soul here. There’s not a lot of people that will understand. Just please don’t judge, try to read with an open mind.

I hope that when you read this, you don’t feel pity, but you become more understanding. It’s not a quick fix. It takes time to heal. Therapy helps, praying helps (religion doesn’t fix everything, sorry), BUT medicine helps too. You have to remember that this is chemical. My brain isn’t releasing enough “happy” chemicals to balance the others. That’s why they call it a “chemical imbalance”. Depression is not my fault or a weakness. It affects at least 1 in 10 people. That’s a lot.

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No Title

I realize that I am NOT the most interesting person in the world. Hell, I don’t even find myself interesting anymore.

I look back at my life and see how much of a waste I’ve become. Now, family will argue that it’s not true “Look at all you’ve accomplished.” But there is nothing.

I used to sparkle and shine. Look at the world through wondering eyes. But now all I see is a darkness, all too familiar and friendly. I used to look forward to the future, and now, all I want to do is go to bed.

I wish that I was as successful as those around me. Having been placed in situations that allowed them to flourish, while I, I withered away to this…mess.

I could have finished college, but I shut down. I didn’t see the point. I could have had a degree by now. But I didn’t finish, and I haven’t gone back.

I can look in the mirror and cry. It’s not the me that I used to see. My eyes have grown darker and older. Maybe, much more crazy. They look tired and sad, and sometimes empty. They rarely even laugh or smile, not like before. Before, they were gold, so full of life, now…Not now.

A smile is rare, and when it is there, there’s a chance that it’s not real. A mask, one that I have grown all too accustomed. I’ve been wearing it so long, maybe that’s just who I am.

Where is the me that I used to know. The one who loved with all her heart. The one who laughed at danger and defeated the odds. Now, I would rather just sit on the sofa…

My life isn’t interesting. I work all the time. My work depresses me, brings me down. But some nights are ok. When will it ever even out?

Maybe I’m going to be ok. Maybe I’m not. I miss the joy that was there…I wonder where it went?

The walls close in, darkness is my friend…Maybe I’ll just lie here a little while longer.

What Is Depression?

What is depression? I’ve posted about this before. Given definitions. Even given some of my insights to it. But really, what is depression?

Everyone goes through a rough patch sometimes. The severity varies between people.

Depression can be a sadness, a loneliness, a darkness, an absence of joy or life. Did you know, depression can actually, physically hurt?

Depression for me varies on the time of day, what stress I’m under, and what has gone on that day. I usually feel empty, post, distanced. I feel destructive most times.

I think about what I’ve done wrong. Things I haven’t accomplished. To be honest, sometimes, I think about how much I want to hurt myself.

You see, cutting, for me, was never about trying to kill myself. It was just a way to handle the pain, the emotions that I couldn’t control. I could control the pain. How much it hurt, how much it scared me, I could even control the bleeding. The one thing that I could control in my world of chaos.

I see myself trying to revert back to that time. Ever since I started my counseling, I have been tempted more than I have been in the last few years. I don’t know if it’s because we are bringing up subjects that concern my past or what the exact thing is. But I feel more and more tempted to cut, especially when I’m upset.

On the days that I am low, I feel vulnerable. I feel like, at any minute, my life will end. Like I’m never going to get up from this blow, so why bother? It hurts, because I can see that it hurts those around me. For example, when I’m home with Hubby, and I’m having a bad day, I can see it in his eyes that I’m hurting him. I know that he feels like it’s his fault, that he’s done something wrong. When in reality, he’s done nothing, it’s just me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know what will make me feel better. I don’t know when I will feel better. But being forced to get up, when all I want to do is stay down, is not helping me. I need comfort and love, and compassion, and some patience. Hubby has been so good about taking care of me when I’m down, but who is taking care of him? I worry that I am killing him. Slowly, but still, killing him. I can see the light dim from his eyes, there used to be a sparkle, and it’s gone? Why? Because I’m killing that sparkle. Me and my foul moods, my anxieties, my attacks, and my depression, it’s all killing him. So why am I selfish enough to hang on?

A friend of mine, to whom I’ve expressed this fear and feeling, says that it’s because I took care of myself for so long that it’s hard to accept the help from others. I want so bad to believe her, but it’s so hard. I just keep feeling like I’m killing him over and over, and there is nothing I can do about it. I have tried to give him options, given him opportunities to leave, but he won’t go. Which really says something about his character. It means that he loves me and that he really believes in “for better or worse, in sickness and in health”. I fear that, without him, I will die. What would I do without him? I can barely handle him being gone for a class, just for a few days, how could I honestly live without him?

I worry about my mom. I mean, I know that she’s here for me, when I need her to be. She is such a great person, and a wonderful mother. I worry that I’m going to do something and lose her forever. And that’s not something that I can handle thinking about. I feel like, that if something happens to her, I will lose myself. I know that it will be hard, when/if she passes. It’s like a routine, I call and talk to her every day, every chance I get, and when that’s gone…What am I going to do?

I had withdrawals from talking to Donna everyday. Why? Because she was part of a routine, a very sad routine, but I always called her, even for just a few minutes. And now, she’s gone and out of my life, which I’m not necessarily complaining about, but I lost that routine. And it was hard, but I dealt with it fairly well. I still think about her from time to time, but not like I used to. It doesn’t hurt so much when I do think about her.

My depression takes many faces. Whether it’s the want or need to hurt myself or others, or to just sit on the couch, unthinking. Did I say that already? Sometimes, when I feel depressed, I just stay on the couch or in bed, and I know that it really concerns Hubby, because he instantly knows that something is wrong. He keeps asking me what’s wrong. And I can hear him, but I can’t respond. Like something in me doesn’t want me to respond to what he is saying to me. He sounds distant when this happens, half the time, he is right beside or in front of me.

Some days, my depression is a good thing, because it makes me want to clean. I think most people call that “manic mode”. I’m not really sure what that means when someone can feel themselves becoming manic. I guess I could ask someone about it. I have a few bipolar friends that say they have manic days and it makes them clean, but I’m sure it does other things too.

My brother in law posted something about depression on his Facebook the other day. It was something along the lines of what happened to him that turned him against the church, and God, and people in general. I want to feel for him. But I can’t. Maybe it’s because I’m dealing with so much crap of my own that I don’t have the time to sit there and figure out what’s wrong with him. But at the same time, I used to say that I couldn’t feel sorry for him because he brought it on himself. But that’s not fair of me to say. I didn’t bring my depression on myself, so why would I say that about him? No one wants to be depressed. So I shouldn’t have ever said that about him. I should have used my brain to think about how I would feel in that situation. The difference is, I feel like he wants to wallow in it. To have pity parties for himself and to have others feel as miserable as he does. Do I do that? I don’t know. I hope not, because I really don’t want to be “that person.” I feel like, if he would try to get out of the house more, to maybe make a life for himself, it would help distract from the pain that he feels. But what do I know?

I feel like a lot of people don’t understand me. I often think that everyone is mad at me, and more than half the time, they aren’t. So why do I do that? I always assume that everyone is mad. I always assume that I’ve done something wrong. I can blame that on my childhood because nothing I did was ever right.

It’s getting to the point now, that I can’t enjoy everyday things. Things that mean a lot to me, I find no joy in them. I don’t answer the phone anymore. I let my voicemail catch everything, or almost everything. So, if you’ve been trying to get a hold of me, it’s not you, it’s me, and I’m sorry. You’ve done nothing wrong, I just can’t answer my phone. Which, yes, I do realize is a very bad thing.

This is my depression: my life is meaningless, I am alone, everyone is turning on me, I want to die. If I could find a corner, small enough, and shrink to hide away, I would. It’s dark. Seeing people having fun, upsets me. I want to cut. I need to cut. But then, everyone is going to be mad at me. Hubby might leave me. Hubby is leaving me. Mom hates me. Everyone hates me and no one understands. I have no friends. I will never get passed this. Breathing hurts. Living hurts and I just want it to go away. Just leave me alone.

I know it’s all lies. I have a great family, supportive and caring. I have friends, though not many, they mean a lot to me. I make a difference, without me being here, nothing would be the same. Hubby loves me, and he is not leaving me. Mom loves me.

How did I get to this point? What drove me to this point? I mean, is it chemical? Am I not enough? I mean, that was my first thought, that I’m just not strong enough. I’m not coping. I’m starting to shut down in weird places, things that I used to thrive with, I freeze. I shut down or break down. It’s getting hard to live like this. And this is why I seek help. This is why I am on medications. Because without my medications, all those lies that are listed up there, they become my reality and I have no escape. So if you’re worried about the effects of me taking pills, be more worried about what would happen if I don’t have them. I’m OK for a couple of days without them, but more than a couple, it’s really hard.

If you have any of these symptoms, I urge you to find someone to talk to. Talk to your doctor. If you don’t have one, get one. Because there is help. There is hope. Don’t let the depression or the panic lie to you.