The Holiday

After I crashed huge last week, Hubby was having a harder and harder time managing to keep his emotions in check. It came to a boiling point on Monday evening, so we decided that we both needed a small break. Hub went to stay with some family for a few days while my Mom came to help me and help with Munchkin.

Yesterday was one of the best days I’ve had in a long time. The entire atmosphere of the place has changed, everyone’s much more relaxed. Although today I’m having a bad day, I’m managing not too badly, and most important of all, I haven’t self harmed in two days now.

Oh how I wish I could be happy about this. I wish I could be happy about all of this, but I’m not. As my Therapist says, it’s like I’m getting screwed twice. My meds allow me to function, and I’ve been exhausting every bit of my personal strength to try to accomplish every day tasks, but because of the depression and the numbness from the pills, I feel no joy in my accomplishments.

People keep telling me that it is enough that I am going through the motions and even if I don’t feel good about it yet, it will ultimately help me in the long run, but on bad days like today, I just wish I could tell people to screw off. If you’ve ever forced yourself, in a really bad state to do something that you used to be able to do without thinking, on auto-pilot, and you’ve returned from it shaking, sweating through your shirt, and with no feeling of triumph, then you’d never say “It’s going to be better in the long run”. I don’t care about the long run. I’m trapped in my head, in this hell, in the now. There is no more light at the end of the tunnel. I am alone in the dark. Depression has narrowed my view of the world to the size of a peephole. No more big picture. Just immediate and never ending pain.

I only hope I have the strength to get through this. I don’t know how long this will last, but it’s wearing me down. I doubt myself all the time. I know it’s the disease, I know it’s the depression, but that doesn’t MEAN anything to me. It’s still what it is. I still have to deal with it. I don’t care what causes it, no one should have to live through this hell; To live in a world that they once found beautiful and can now only see as tainted.

When I laugh, I feel fake. It’s not the wild abandoned laughter that is naturally my own. It’s a hollow laugh, a forced smile. But I’m well practiced at this, and sometimes to protect the ones we love, we have to show them the best of ourselves. Even if it is an act. If anyone who cared about me knew half of the thoughts in my head, half of the pain, the side effects of all the pills I take, the self harming…they would be horrified. Just as I am all the time. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. And so I keep quiet, I try to smile and laugh, I make myself go through the motions. All this means to me is that I haven’t given up yet.