Less Than Zero Functionality

Indicative of how bad the depression has gotten…I can’t even purge in these pages anymore. Things have gotten pretty dark. Day after day I wait for the cloud to lift, for this magical increase in Zoloft to do something, anything, but…nothing. The housework I was fretting last week has snowballed and still…I can only feel great shame, berate myself, and just take to my bed hopelessly overwhelmed. I simply don’t know where to start. I am going through the motions with my child, making sure she is fed (even if it is cookies for breakfast, judge me, IDGAF) and bathed and goes to school. I haven’t bathed myself in days and it’s gotten pretty gross. I am battling just to feed myself, eating every 18 hours if I can be bothered. It’s not even lack of hunger. It is inability to do basic stuff.

Sleep remains my one sanctuary. I’ve learned to live with the ‘too real’ dreams that I labeled nightmares. They are at least not…this mental space. And if it’s too bad there, I can wake up. This mental space…I can’t break free. I am at the end of my tether with this depressive bullshit. Sick of the panic attacks. Sick of the metastatic anxiety that makes me not want to be awake any longer than I have to be.

Season is going to change soon. We’re having a 3 day heatwave in the high 80’s with mega humidity but one thing I have learned about the weather here is…it’s mood swings are more abrupt and wonky than my own. Soon we will need the furnace and last I knew it wouldn’t kick on, likely because the pilot light got put out during the torrential downpours back in March and April. Which means letting the landlord in the house, and his son in law, and possible repair men, and…My shame is palpable. Too bad shame simply doesn’t trump depressive inertia. I keep trying to rally, reminding myself of my worst times and how I always come out on the other side. Of course, there were job losses, evictions, having to move back in with family, losing all my possessions due to unpaid storage unit bills…And it was all before I had a child.

Failing with a child seems like the death knoll. If I can’t pull some rabbits out of hats here pretty quick, things are going to get much worse. And I have NO ONE I can lean on for help. No one. And I did it to myself, I suppose, self isolating. Not that anyone wanted to bridge the distance and come visit us here in Podunk, we are always supposed to come to them. Some friends, eh? And most of them aren’t even my friends, as was proven by R and his wife. Once I quit helping at that damn shop, they couldn’t drop me fast enough and other than polite ‘how are you guys’ exchanges…they’ve shown no indication that we’re welcome in their lives. And because the entire situation drove me to a nervous breakdown of sorts, I can’t say I’ve broken my neck trying to recreate the past, either. Some people have lifelong friends who are in their lives regularly. I am not one of those people, never have been. Seems like I am always stuck on my mental health hamster wheel while everyone else moves forward, onto bigger and better things…

I did not choose the anxiety and depression, no matter what a large segment of ignorant people may think. This is not a good way to live. I’d practically undergo a lobotomy at this point if it would just get me out of this depressive haze. Those were proven very ineffectual except to turn people into drooling lumps. Which I am pretty much there already, though the drooling seems reserved only for sleep. I’m a hot mess.

But I am here. I gotta take my kid to the shrink today and since she’s only had 3 days of this new med, it’s hard to gauge how she is responding to it. The Concerta worked great. Fucking insurance. I am all for squeezing out every last dime but if the more expensive is what works, well, so be it. Those money grubbers are despicable. Some insurance twonk who thinks they know more than a doctor. This country is so fucked up.

I don’t want to leave the house. I haven’t been out of Armpit in days and…it used to make me stir crazy. Now…leaving is what makes me freak out. I don’t even know what the fuck is going on with me these days. I am not well. And because the NP is so utterly useless, I don’t think I am going to get better any time soon since I won’t get to see telepsych til November most likely, if that soon.

I wish I could snap out of it. For Spook’s sake. But that’s another thing the ignorant people don’t understand. It’s not a choice to be mentally ill and it’s not a case of the blues you can shake off with a dance party. It permeates to the bone marrow, poisoning your blood, killing off the cells until you are a walking husk of what used to be you.

I miss who I used to be. Even at my worst manic fucking everything up…It was still better than fucking everything up and being too powerless against the depression to stop it.

4 Responses to “Less Than Zero Functionality”

  1. I’m so very sorry you’re struggling so much. I can relate to the vivid dreams, but at least during the day I’m okay. It sucks that you’re not.

  2. You know that whatever the drama, you are in the ‘I give a damn’ category of my social scale right
    So you need a lifeline you just need to email or message

    And saying that; your silence scares me, on the counts that I’m worried I’ve offended you and that I usually get a verbally sharp response that reminds me I can make friends and acquaintances

  3. I’m just happy you are still here to give my elegy on WordPress!
    As the disclaimer that I have no intention to etc etc signals the rest of this one…

    PS; Try to make my elegy depressing but darkly humorous, I want the happy folk to feel a bit of pain for a few seconds to get revenge on life, a laugh for the damned to show my respect they are still living!!

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