So here we are. Three weeks into 2012. Have I blogged at all? Absolutely not. Have I wanted to? Of course I have. But here’s the problem:

DEPRESSION

She’s a persistant bitch. She sucks the life out of everything. Things I used to love doing all seem so tedious now. So I will start a blog post, but half way through I will get tired of typing. I miss doing the things that I loved. Like taking pictures and editing them. And blogging every day. And editing my theme every week. I had all of these hobbies that I really enjoyed doing, but now I can’t bring myself to get back into them. The desire is there. It really is. But when I start working on something, I get all irritated and frustrated and quit. My concentration is shot. I can’t focus on anything for very long. And I mean anything. Books, movies, TV shows. Nothing holds my interest anymore. Do you know how incredibly frustrating that is? Every once in a while, a day here and there, I will have a good day. I will be able to clean up my house and maybe watch a movie all the way through. But those days are few and far between. I think this is the worst my depression has ever been. Even before my last suicide attempt I was still able to somewhat enjoy my hobbies.

I need my medications back. It kills me knowing that a few pills everyday can make this better. That a pill in the morning and a pill at night is enough to make me function like a normal human being. And oh, how I miss that feeling. It was beautiful for the short while I had it. I remember waking up in the morning and thinking to myself,  ”So this is how normal people do it.” It was wonderful to be able to do the simple things without having to force myself to. But now? Everything is a struggle. Every single thing. I feel like I am always on the brink of drowing. Just doing enough to keep my head above the surface. And it is so exhausting. And oh, let’s not even get into my sleeping habits. I would sleep all day, every day if I could. Just sleep my life right away and not think twice  about it.

I wrote a post back in 2010, about a week or two after I was released from the hospital following my suicide attempt. It was called Functioning vs, Surviving. At that point I was learning what it meant to be able to function. I had been on medication long enough for it to start taking effect and I was amazed at the changes I saw in myself. A lot of people view depression as something that people just need to “snap out of”. They don’t see it as the illness it is. I was one of those people before I started medication. I remember being so frustrated and so mad at myself, because no matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t “snap out of it”. And here I am again. Trying to “snap out of it”. And it’s not working. I have no health insurance right now and I haven’t been to see a doctor since we left Hawaii a year and a half ago. There are clinics I could call for help. But thanks to the absolute gift that is social anxiety, the thought of talking to anyone on the phone sends me damn near into a panic attack. So I am stuck here for the moment. Not living. Not really functioning. Just surviving.

The beautiful thing about this? Even in my current state of mind, I have still gone out of my way to help the people who ask it of me. I can’t fucking help myself, but to my dying breath I will help others.

The beautiful thing about that? My help was not appreciated. Not even a little. I was made to feel bad, because one time… ONE TIME… I chose to put my feelings and needs above theirs.

I don’t want to live on this planet anymore.

I hate when people won’t look beyond their own selfish desires to see what others are battling.

But, I digress.

I’m trying to pull myself together.

I start school next week. And I am hoping that sometime this week I can get up the nerve to make the call to see a psychiatrist so I can go back on my medications. I refuse to let 2012 to be the gaping hole of nothingness that 2011 was for me.

And I am going to start updating this more. Even if that means only once a week.

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