It’s been a long day. A long couple of months I guess. We are getting the house put back together. Almost through with the drywall. Or at least hanging the drywall. Then we have to put corners up, mud, and tape. Then sand. Then paint. Then flooring. Everything is so very overwhelming. So much to do. So very tired. I wonder when it will all be done. Will we get it done in time for Thanksgiving? How about Christmas?
My mom moved in with us recently. It’s been ok with her here, however, I feel like I’m a teenager again. She hasn’t asked anything, or anything like that, but she’s my mom ya know.
My depression has gotten way worse. I try to conserve my energy at work, thus more down, so I can be more upbeat when I come home. But you know this is getting old. I so want to go back to counseling, but know I can’t. I don’t want my mom to know so I suffer in silence again, like I did when I was younger. It’s gotten so bad. I try my best not to cry at work, but sometimes that doesn’t work so well. I feel like crying all the time, and I know nothing can help me. I’ve tried so many different medications, I’ve lost hope. I go through life now just trying to get to the next day, not expecting anything. It’s better this way. Better to not have hope, and not be disappointed. I’m never surprised with something that doesn’t go our way. I just really need to do the counseling thing and I feel so alone.
What’s the point anymore? It seems like I feel so alone and tired all the time. I don’t think anyone cares whether or not I live or die. No one. I just want to sleep all the time. Sleeping would be nice. Sleep and never wake up. The only good I produce in this house is money. I’m sure everyone can get by with out my money.
I’ve thought about going back to counseling but what’s the point? What’s the point in trying to feel better; I’m just spinning my wheels anyways. No matter how hard I try, I figure life is always going to feel like this, a constant struggle to figure out why – or how – I’m going to get through the next day alive. I’m alone in this fight. That I know.
The bad thing about it – I want so desperately for someone just to hold me. To let me know everything is going to be ok. I don’t think I can believe them though. I have no question in my mind things are not going to be ok. I’m not going to get better. That just living will be a constant struggle for the rest of my life.
I can’t do this alone. And I can’t open myself up to help from someone else. It’s a hellish limbo I live. Wondering what lie I’m going to tell myself today to calm my wanting to give up. Life might work out for others, but not me. I don’t think my parents would care, no friends, and well, I don’t think my counselor remembers me.
I’m tired of crying. But at the same time I’m tired of hiding the tears behind a smile and a laugh. No one wants to get close to me; and a part of me is ok with that. I’m ugly. I’m fat. I understand. I’m starting to think that the only thing I’m good for is to be yelled at; to be the screw up.
I can’t keep doing this. I’m tired for fighting so long, with nothing to show. I’m tired of wondering how many days I would have to go without eating before it will be over. I’m tired of wondering how deep the cut would have to be before I don’t have to fight any longer. I’m tired.