It seems that I am doing a bit better; I still have my off days, and believe me they’re very off days where I spend half my days in somber state. They somber days are less frequent at the moment, I am hoping they’ll stay that way. On the other hand, I might be going on such a high that will make a crash landing inevitable.
For A, if this means I’m not online for a couple of days, it means I’ve crashed again, but I’ll come up soon enough. I’ve learned to somewhat control these things, as far as one can control it.
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There might be a move coming up for me; I’ve found this little place through an agency and it is not that expensive. I would have my own bathroom, toilet and kitchen. I have a viewing Monday, so I’ll hope that goes ok.
Sore throat, headache, runny nose, stuffed nose, muscle aches, you name it, I got it. I hate being sick. Guess it was my time now, I’ve been around people who either have been or were going to be sick. Was only a matter of time before I got my turn.
Mentally I am doing a bit better,I’m not good, but I am not as depressed as this post. The last couple of weeks I have slowly been realizing that everything that happened in my childhood was not my fault. I am absolutely not there yet; common sense knows it, but the feelings aren’t able to update that.
* Warning: this may be a very long, sometimes incoherent, post
The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I fucking hate myself. I try to pretend I don’t, but pretending doesn’t work its magic like it used to. I don’t know when I started feeling this way, it may have even started before my mother passed away, it certainly did not make it better. I can not remember a day when I was OK. I’ve always thought there was something wrong with me. Not in the physical sense, but more up in the noggin’. And I don’t mean the whole crazy, staring into nothing deal, but more the I’m overly sensitive to everything and everyone and that might be an issue.
After my mother passed the feeling only got worse. Worse to the point where I was willing to give up the little things I had that were worth living for. After nine years I still have that feelings. I still haven’t figured out if there’s something worth living for. Before it was my little bunny Angel, then she passed away and I fell into a dark place again. I figured it was about time I got some real therapy and got myself some help. That was OK for a couple of months, until I felt myself slipping away again.
At that point I needed some life in this place and got two little rabbits, Binkie and Bello. I felt a little better, but that was only because these two fragile little creatures depended on me and therefore I did not have to pay attention to myself. That didn’t take long. Though I still take good care of the boys, I felt myself slipping away again and lost the road to feeling better.
Not until I had the conversation with my therapist had I come out with this. I have not even told the group I’m in, and I’m not quite sure when I’ll be able to do that. I don’t feel completely comfortable to do so, again this is, mostly, the shame talking.
I suppose I have to let it out to the current group I’m in before other people join (there’s only three!) and my walls go up again until I’ve figured out what kind of new people I’m dealing with.
It seems that I may have finally hit that real depression. I haven’t been feeling quite like myself these days and everything seems to go downhill with my feelings. I have just completely lost my way. I had a conversation with my therapist and she (and the team) were surprised on why I still haven’t said what really goes on in my head. To tell the truth, so am I. Usually by now I’ve given my life’s story twice over.
I think mostly it is shame. I’m ashamed of what people might think when I reveal the things that go on in my head. I have contemplated putting them here (since my therapist knows and that barrier is a little bit thinner), but it does not feel right to do so. Perhaps when I get a better hold of things to make sense enough for everyone to get it.
What I would like to know is how other people have dealt with it, besides medication.
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