Yesterday was a hard day. I was sad, overwhelmed and irritable. Everything seemed so unbelievably hard, from getting the kids to school, doing chores around the new house, putting the kids to bed and even breathing, it seemed. We moved into our new house last week, and I’m so grateful, but still it’s hard. And it’s hard for others to understand when I have so much going for me — and I do
I kept thinking, “Is it always going to be so hard?” In terms of my depression, I’m on medications that work, I’m doing therapy and I’m still doing ECTs. I don’t understand why I still have days where I’m so sad and feel so worthless. I’m fatigued to the point where it feels like my bones are tired. I guess everybody has bad days, but when I experience a bad day often have intrusive thoughts, some thoughts telling me I should die. I try to fight them off — I don’t want to die, but I fear that one day I might given into those thoughts. Too many bad days could be dangerous for me.
I’m not trying to harp on my diagnoses, but I’m struggling with Major Depressive Disorder, Dysthymia, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Avoidant Personality Disorder and Binge Eating Disorder. It’s a lot to deal with to say the least. When I feel blue, like I am know, it’s overwhelming to think about. How on Earth do I have so many things wrong with me? Because of all my inflictions, any changes to my routine — or life in general — can cause me to fall into a depressive episode, wherein I’m typically rendered useless. I have to live within rigid constraints so my stupid brain doesn’t go haywire. And adhering to such unforgiving boundaries, even ones that benefit me, is difficult and overwhelming.
It’s a lot of damn work to keep me alive and kicking, and while I am appreciative of being alive and kicking, it doesn’t mean I don’t get discouraged every once in a while. Sometimes I feel like I’m not allowed to have a bad day — that at the mention of being sad or anything related, people jump to the conclusion that I need more meds or ECTs. I understand to an extent — my loved ones don’t want me to be suicidal and in inpatient care again.
Normally, I tend to think that depression is supposed to happen to people like me. I guess what I mean is that I can take it. I can get through it, and I have a platform where I can (hopefully) help others with their mental disorders.
But it’s still very hard not to think, “Why me? Why the fuck me??”
I’ll get over this mood. I’ll get more sleep, practice self care, re-evaluate what’s not working, and I’ll be back in the sunshine. But it’s perfectly normal to have a bad day and wallow a bit. My feelings, even anger and frustration, are valid.
And so are yours.
Stay in the light, friends.