Pensive

Mind Monster

Before I begin writing this, I want to make something abundantly clear: I am not actively suicidal. Suicidal Ideation is one of many joyful experiences served up by Depressive Disorder. So, let's get that straight. No need to call emergency services. I just need to purge all of this, so it doesn't go any further than unbidden flash thoughts.

After six hours of fitful sleep, my first thought when I woke up this morning was, "I'm thin enough now, I could walk to Rogers Bridge with Smidgen and Toby, and we could jump in the Middle Tyger River. That way, we'd never be a burden or worry to anyone ever again, least of all ourselves."

Off and on yesterday, as the funds just poured out for very damned little, I caught myself considering the peace oblivion would bring.  I have placed strain on my family out here, and I'm being a pest to my friends and Tribe for rides and money.  I've drug my two homebody furbabies all over hell and half creation to establish a relationship with my mother that never was meant to be.  I can't eat properly, I'm always in pain, and honestly, I'm lonely.  I feel like I've lost the ability to be (or act) normal in a social situation.

I've felt more like a throwaway than I have in months. And I know it's that damned chemical imbalance in my brain interacting with the uncertainty of my future, but being intellectually aware of what's causing it does not prevent it or alleviate it.  I just have to work through it.

It truly is like having a monster living in your mind and, despite your efforts to stop it, it just continues to gnaw away at your will to keep the thing at bay.  No one needs or wants a life in upheaval but, when it happens to someone like me, it can be a life-threatening situation.  You become a threat to yourself.  That's why so many people I know who have Depressive Disorder are hardcore about keeping certain routines.  If you find a routine that brings you peace and doesn't rock your psychological boat, you're going to hold on to it with a fierce passion and, if that routine is upset, it can send you into a tailspin.

I'm in that tailspin right now, and I'm doing my best to pull up.

But I'm scared.  And my feelings about losing Aunt Tudi aren't even trying to hide right under the surface. And it's gonna get worse before it gets better, because I'm going to have to bunk with Blake in the old house until I can find another place to live, which means she'll be calling me in the night.  And it's that main thing that drove me to so much self-destructive behaviour before I left for California.  To be back there even for one day is almost unbearable to imagine, but it's going to happen whether I want it to or not.

I feel like my solar plexus has turned into a gordian knot, and my heart is beating funny.  My entire body is responding to the stress and depression, and I'm afraid I'm going to fall ill, when that's the last damned thing I need right now.  I've already got a urinary tract infection that I'm trying to beat on my own, because I can't afford an urgent care right now.

What's worse is Smidgen's back leg weakness has magnified.  I'm hoping it's just arthritis and the stress of travel making it worse, but she's old and I'm afraid it might be something more serious.  And I can't take her to the vet.  Of course, my mind instantly went there - that I'm going to watch her die because I was too sorry to take care of her.  Why do I deserve to live when I can't properly make the lives of those I love have some measure of quality?  If Smidgen dies, I am going to be beyond devastated, especially if I find out I could have prevented it somehow, if I had only done more or been more.

My helplessness cannot be measured.  I'm doing everything within my power, including writing this, to make sure hopelessness doesn't also get to that point, because I'm not sure I'll survive it.

  • Current Location: Quality Inn
  • Current Mood: morose morose
  • Current Music: TV Noise