And I am feeling my fall blues approaching too soon. It’s like, “What’s the point? Why are we here?” I know it’s the depression, but that doesn’t help mentally. My logic dictates one thing but my emotions tell me something else and their voice is stronger. I want to bury myself in a hole or run away from this. Depression or any mental illness stays with you all the time You cannot brush it away, hug it away, or run from it. You have to face it, get help, talk to people, and all those things that the depression tells you NOT to do in order to “feel” better. Even then it is only temporary because something brings it back. Whether it is something you control or not, it comes back. I tend to self-sabotage. Stop taking the meds I know that help. I feel lazy and worthless and it is hard to crawl out of the hole. I know I will. However, there will always be another one.
write every day
even if it is one for a couple of minutes
write every day
so, here goes
I have these story starts singing in my brain. Sometimes I write them down, maybe even get to a few chapters, then I lose it. Not sure why. Hoping a change in lifestyle habits will change my mood, increase my motivation, and just get me jump started. Move more, eat sensibly, and write write write…
I find that when I’m down, I pick. Literally and figuratively. My fingers find small pimples to pop or dead skin to pluck or I grab the nail clippers and cut as much off as possible or get the pedi-thingamabob and slough off the dead skin on my feet. Something to remove imperfections on my external self. It helps me think. This becomes a way to rid me of the bad. But it doesn’t quiet the voices. They’re always there. Somewhere in the back. Angry, evil, negative, an inner bully that will not ever be completely shut the heck up!
OK, I’m rambling. Sorry, but sometimes I wonder if others have these same issues? Comment if you share this oddness.
Please forgive me
Forgive me for not caring enough about myself to be there for you
Forgive me for that day I let him do what he did
Forgive me for feeling so sad I needed something to stop the voices
Forgive me for self-medicating with alcohol and nicotine
Forgive me for self-harming with scissors, odd combinations of legal substances, and overeating
Forgive me for not being healthy during the few weeks you were in my life
Forgive me for not listening to the right voices, real and imaginary, who told me my choices were wrong
Forgive me for not trying again to bring your soul into the world
I know someone called you home
I know you have wings and fly with the others, happy, free of pain
I know that place needed you more than I did
28 weeks was not enough
not being able to hear you laugh
not hearing your cry
not feeling your sweet breath on my skin
I want to be happy with what I have
To do that, I need you to forgive me for not being the mommy I wanted to be, the one you needed me to be
I need you to forgive me because I cannot do it myself
your mental illness like you
One person’s mental illness is not like any other’s. Just like the loss of a loved one, no one can fully understand your grief, your feelings, your voices. You can try to explain. You can make your best effort to put it all into words. Even if you form complete, grammatically correct sentences that are well thought out and descriptive, no other person can experience what another one does quite the same way.
Still, sufferers need to talk to their therapist! Only YOU can help YOU.
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