So, last Thursday was the perfect storm of just too many things gone wrong. I’ve been having very bad pain days I think partially due to winter finally arriving to the Valley of the Sun(winter being relative but it is a change in weather nevertheless). I had finally made contact with a therapist and I was nearly giddy at the prospect of getting into therapy and on the road to better mental health. The appointment was originally set for early December but a cancellation allowed me a chance for last Thursday. Giddy! Glee! Unfortunately, I failed to ask a vital question when setting up my appointment. They didn’t take my insurance and as y’all know I am broke ass. I didn’t have the $225 or really, any money for the initial appointment. So I thanked the front office person and left.
I sat in my car and cried. I started off back home and my gas light came on. I cried some more. It’s a miracle I didn’t have an accident. I did make it home though.
I felt so overwhelmed with what I felt was failure.
I took a deep breath. I put the pills away. And then I took a nap and cuddled with my kittens.
I still feel fragile. And I’m cranky. Moody. All of that fun stuff. Dreading the holidays and feeling isolated.
I have $0.51 in the bank. I would like to treat myself to Moravian sugar cookies. A taste from home.
But I’m still here. My story continues.
I am depressed. I haven’t blogged about it or really written very explicitly about it in quite some time. It’s because I’m in a truly dark place and depression lies. It lies and tells me that no one cares, no one wants to hear about my feelings/struggles. It tells me that people are tired of my constant struggles with depression and finances and my whining about my life when obviously I have many good things.
I am worried and stressed and my depression lies and tells me that I’m being stupid/silly. Any problem I have is my own fault and I should just *fix* it already. I’m not sleeping or eating well (this is very bad due to my eating disorder past and I know it but my depression tells me that it doesn’t matter).
My depression tells me that everyone around me would be better off if I disappeared from the world entirely. That ceasing to exist would be a vast improvement to my current state of uselessness.
I’m wrestling with it, the darkness, my old friend, my depression brain. I’m trying a new antidepressant but it hasn’t had a chance to kick in yet. I’m applying music therapy and playing silly games and trying, trying, trying to shut out the noise, the lies. I’m mostly managing to get out of bed everyday so there’s that.
A Helping Hand fundraiser
Paypal donation link
I’ve written about Project Semicolon a few times.
The founder, Amy Bleuel, died on March 23. Yes, it was by suicide. However, do not lose hope. The struggle goes on. For you and me and everyone. Please reach out and do not give in!
“If anyone is struggling right now, please take care of yourself. Please talk to someone about it. Please make use of the resources we do have. You can text the Crisis Text Line at 741-741. You can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255. You can call The Trevor Project at 866-488-7386. Or, consider donating your social media data for suicide prevention research at OurDataHelps.”
Hold onto hope!
ETA: I just found this amazing piece on Medium written by the founder of Other Lives a peer support group for trauma survivors. Please go read it.