Do something. Do nothing.
One of my new friends from the podcast always asks me how I'm doing, really how am I doing.
That's the stigma busting question, right? So many of us, not just the mentally ill, are conditioned to say, "I'm good" or "I'm doing alright." It's just what you say, isn't it? It's so ingrained in us most of the time we repeat the answer when pressed further, "How are you really doing?"
So how am I doing?
I'm struggling. Struggling with my depression. Fighting my avoidant personality disorder. Trying to understand dysthymia. In general I'm not doing well.
But this is a different kind of struggling than I'm accustomed to. My meds are still working hard to keep me up, energized, to keep me going. They aren't winning, but they're trying. I credit them with staving off the despair I would normally be feeling about this time.
I can see I'm already going off the tracks here so I'm going to change styles.
The bad: Unfocused, sleep fatigued, unmotivated, indecisive, filled with suicidal ideations, always wanting to eat, bored with life, unable to find pleasure in anything.
The good: Trying to fight all these.
Last night the only thing that interested me was going to sleep. Nora finally relented and I went up to brush my teeth at about 8:05. She said she came up about 8:30 and I was out cold. I slept to my, now, usual 4:30-4:45 and started my day. It's Labor Day here in the U.S. and many businesses are closed today, not the retail world. I started at my first store at 5:40 a.m.
Throughout the day, I had thoughts of working on my novel, I still need to finish the new chapter 42 and rework chapter 44. I thought about cleaning the kitchen. I thought a lot about a new laptop, one that will play Nora's and my game as well as edit podcasts better than the ancient desktop. I thought the most about getting home and napping, ideally to nap until bedtime. The thought of a relaxing evening home alone with Nora, having dinner, maybe watching some TV and going for a walk sounded utterly boring and mind numbing. (note this is not a reflection on my lovely wife)
I got home, chatted with Nora for a little bit and announced "If you don't see me by 3, come wake me up please." Maybe a nap is what I truly needed to shake off some of the fatigue. I couldn't seem to fall asleep. My body was there, cozy and relaxed. I even had a few myoclonic jerks as my body was giving in. My mind, however fixated on how I was going to spend the balance of the day, how much a laptop would cost, crap the library is closed today.
At three I went down and told Nora about the closed library and that I was going to try again to nap. That didn't take.
I spent the next two hours laying in bed with The Office playing on the TV. I would get the urge to do some cleaning, but as soon as I stood up I realized how stupid and idea that was. Back on the bed. Go sit with Nora while she knits, stand up, lay down. Play a game on the computer, walk to the desk, feel guilty about existing, lay back down.
Over and over.
Finally the urges to fill my face with garbage won out and now I'm in the kitchen. Somehow there is bagel dough rising in the bread maker and the kitchen is clean. The bagel making will force me to stay up for about another two hours almost. I'm trying to stay in the kitchen, if I go back upstairs I'm certain the bed is going to hold me hostage.
Current feeling: Unaccomplished, unworthy, unlovable and unfit for life.