Not doing so well

Yesterday I spent crying. Today I have to be better. There’s a kid coming from the local high school to shadow us engineers. So I have to be happy. I can’t cry, but that’s all I feel like doing. That’s all I ever feel like doing anymore. Crying. Sleeping. Certainly not working. Certainly not facing people.

I remember when I was in college. My counselor then made me go through a worksheet. I think it was from the book Mind over Mood. I forget who wrote it though. I had to think of people who cared for me, and write down logical facts as to why I believed they cared for me. I think she ended up doing more of the worksheet than me, and she believed it more than I did too. Looking back at it now, I still don’t believe it. I still have a hard time believing that anyone cares for me. I just don’t understand why anyone would. And it’s been obvious that even in an online situation, people don’t give a crap about me. They are there for me during the “good” times (which basically means never, because there are no good times). Most people who stand by me don’t know the extent of how I feel. They don’t understand how difficult it is to face the day alive, much less face it without crying. A few people who battle the same feelings as I do stand by me, but those are few and far between. And I have to go through the weeding process, trusting those who tell me that they care about me and finding out the hard way that they don’t just to get to the few that do. I’m starting to think that being alone is better than having to go through that weeding process. I have a few that I *think* care about me. I’ll just stick with them; no more new friends. No more trusting. No more bawling my eyes out because I trusted someone I shouldn’t have. I feel alone already. I’m just making that feeling seem more… I don’t know… real?

So I’m back to the question… who do I talk to when trusting is an issue, and I can’t talk to my counselor about something? Who can I talk to, and no matter what I say or feel, it stay confidential?

some thoughts

Most mornings I usually get to at least 9 before I start crying.  This morning it was 6:30.  I cried all the way to work, hoping to have some quiet time alone once I got here.  Nope other people were wanting to get here early too apparently.  So no alone time for me, and I’m using all the energy I can to hide the tears that want to flow so easily. 

What set it off this morning?  An email.  Yes, an email made me upset. And no, I don’t feel like talking about it.  And yes, it is definitely an over reaction.

I feel like I don’t want to trust anyone again.  It’s so hard at times like these to just not cancel Twitter, Facebook, everything else I have. it’s hard to keep in touch with the outside world, to keep going on. 

I was reading a book last night, someone’s account about their depression.  I’ve always thought about writing a book myself.  Unfortunately, my parents don’t know about the depression, so writing a book is pretty much out of the question.  Even if I could write it without anyone finding out my true identity (which I take, would be really hard), no one would want to read it.  Who wants to read a book about some one’s struggle with depression when they don’t get better?  People in general long for a happy ending, that the good always wins out (actually now it seems just as long as anyone wins, that’s ok, as long as the fight was fun to watch)

I used to want to open up to people, to tell them about what’s going on in my life.  I didn’t because I was scared, but I wanted to.  Now I don’t.  Every time I tell someone about what I’m suffering through, it’s the last time they email / talk to me.  It’s like I have some form of the plague and they don’t want to be associated with me.  I guess I’ve gotten through most of my life alone; as I’ll continue to live my life.  I don’t want to talk anymore.

What keeps me going in life?  I don’t know.  I guess it would suck for my husband if I died.  Bills would be harder for him to pay.  That’s what keeps me going.  All other things would repair with time.  People would get over my death, and pretty easily I’d imagine.  Dying is a part of the life cycle.  You live then you die.  But I keep going on… because as much as I want to die, I can’t kill myself (and now the refraining from suicide is more of a necessity, then a wanting to not kill myself.  There’s a difference, however small). 

I had the radio on this morning in the car.  I swear I don’t remember what was playing.  It’s like the little micro-processor in my brain that is responsible for putting the meanings of words together wasn’t working.  I brought breakfast this morning.  I’m staring at it, willing myself to eat it.  It’s just not working. It’s 7:40 and I just want to go home.

empty and alone

I’m most of the way through Torey Hayden’s book Tiger’s Child.  It’s a sequel to her book One Child.  The first book is about a six year old (Sheila) that comes to her class alone and scared on the inside, but violent on the outside.  And the relationship she forms with this girl, Sheila, to quell the violence.  At the end of the school year, Torey moves away and loses touch with Sheila, until she tracks down Sheila seven years later.  By this time, Sheila has abandonment issues.  Both from Torey’s leaving her and also her mother leaving her (her mother left her early in life).  It’s so hard reading the book in a way.  Tor and Sheil’s initial relationship reminds me so much of the relationship I had with a counselor I had in grad school.  I was deep in depression by that time.  I remember first moving there that I figured no one in town knew me, and it would be a good time to kill myself.  No one would know to check up on me, no one would know that I was gone until the stench of my body made someone go looking for me. I was well into my second semester there when I finally made the decision that I needed to get help.  Actually one of my friends suggested it.  She knew the counselor and knew that I’d be in good hands.  Though she was such an awesome counselor, I, at some depth wish I hadn’t gone.  I’m not a subscriber to the whole it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.  I’m envious of Torey’s and Sheila’s relationship in that I’ve longed so much for someone to hold me while I cry.  Someone to just let me cry and not ask questions.  I wanted her to hold me so much so many different times.  I’ve longed for a friend that would listen and not give me the I don’t want to be your friend because you’re too depressed.  In a way, it’s hard because all I feel is an intense emptiness that she left, but I remember little about her and the time we spent together.  Trying to push as much as I can out of my mind, but I can’t push the feelings.  I know the relationship between a counselor and client is different than teacher and student, but in a way, I still wish I had been special enough that she would have wanted to call me friend.  But, alas, she probably has forgotten about me and could care less now, which is just as good.