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.