Sometimes I wonder what the point of life is. I go on day after day having trouble. Antidepressants don’t help. Counseling doesn’t help either. I’m told constantly how I’m just not believing enough in God. I’m a horrible Christian. I’m a horrible person. I get that. And thanks to all those people out there telling me that on a continual basis, I truly believe that. I do the best I can. It never seems to be enough for anyone. I don’t do this right; I don’t do that right. I don’t talk enough, I’m faking the sadness. I’m tired of crying. Tired of dealing wtih this. Tired of wondering when – or if – things are going to get better.
I haven’t started on the new medication yet. I just don’t want to ruin my vacation with weird side effects. The psychiatrist keeps asking me if I want to be on medications for the depression. Why the heck else would I be in her office? If I hear that question one more time, I’m not sure that I will want to come back. It makes me think that she feels that medications won’t help me. If medication won’t help, then quite frankly, I don’t want to keep struggling to get better. I don’t want to keep fighting a battle that I can’t win. I’d rather just give in and save my energy for something else. I go through so much; putting myself on the line and knowing that I’m going to be hurt just about every time. I’m tired of feeling like shit and knowing that I’m not going to get better.
I know suicide isn’t an option, but gosh this is so hard. It’s so hard to keep going and to know that I’m not going to get better. I know that suicide isn’t an option, but it’s still hard not to always go in that direction. To think about it first when anything happens. I know this makes me a horrible person, but I can’t help it. I do the best I can, which never seems to be enough.