makes for good blog fodder, if nothing else

well, you guys get more blog posts when i’m in the grips. so that’s something.

i’m depressed. i really hate it. it’s so weird knowing what’s wrong with you and still not being able to fix it. and still not being able to change it. and still not being able to really do anything about it. it’s horrible.

it’s horrible because unlike cancer, which when people don’t understand what it’s like, they at least feel terribly sorry for you. i’m not saying that cancer patients are thrilled about that; i have no idea what it’s like to have cancer. but at least people don’t try and blame you for having cancer or try and give you all these suggestions about what you’re NOT doing to fix your own cancer or try and tell you that you DON’T HAVE CANCER.

and in AA it’s weird because aside from any back and forth people have about medications or what have you, i just feel so terribly alone and isolated. my own friends are just …. i don’t know. i don’t know what to do. i feel like either no one notices how horribly terribly awful i’m doing. that i’m suffering and i don’t know what to even say. i feel like everyone just goes about their business and doesn’t even care or notice. maybe they do, but they don’t know what to do, so they do nothing and that makes me feel terrible. like no one gives a shit what happens to me…

OR worse yet, and this really IS a pickle, sometimes people notice, and ask me what’s wrong and i try them out and i say things that are pretty general like … ‘oh, i’m not doing so well. i’m pretty depressed. january’s a really bad time for me.’ and they smile and nod and they try to commiserate, i guess. they are trying to be supportive. but i feel like they’re looking *through* me. like i could have said, ‘yeah, my weekend was okay.’ instead of ‘yeah, i’m really pretty depressed.’

when i get that kind of response, i just do NOT feel safe going any further. because the fact of the matter is, when i get *really* real with people, they just get scared. and i’m not even talking about ‘i want to kill myself.’ cause i don’t. that’s NOT IT. that’s not it. it’s a terrible dread that nothing will ever be all right. that nothing will ever be fine. that no one cares about me. that nothing i do is right. everything is wrong. every sensation and thought is uncomfortable. stupid things make me want to scream and punch and beat the shit out of people. it’s horrible. and i could get more detailed. and then people start to really see in a way, and they start to get scared. they don’t want to know that part of me, period. and then i think they aren’t sure they want to know me. i’m not sure they want to be intimate with someone who thinks and feels and is like me.

and i know it’s all not true. i get that. i really do. but this is really physical. it’s chemical. despite this faint upper level knowledge that this will pass and that this isn’t really my main life, this is what is consuming it for now. and it’s just awful. and i just want people to make it okay or let me know it’s okay that it’s NOT okay right now. that it’s okay that i feel awful and they’ll be there for me while i grrrr it all the fuck out. and they’ll love me anyway even though it’s really hard for me and maybe for them.

it doesn’t even make sense to me, so i don’t know why i think it should make sense to anyone else. i saw my psychiatrist on tuesday, who i love, and it’s hard to explain. i tell him that i’m depressed, i have problems concentrating, etc. i tell him it’s seemingly manageable, that i’m still going to work, etc. he seems to think i’m fine. what’s bad about this is that i get this terrible doctor performance anxiety.

some people get what’s called whitecoat hypertension. they don’t really have high blood pressure, but get them around a person in a lab coat or with a stethoscope and they have crazy blood pressure. i’m the same way around docs. there would be no reason for me to believe my psy would just take me from his office and throw me into a psych ward, but i think there’s a subconscious part of me that is like, ‘tell the truth, but don’t be so crazy or sad or weak or fucked up that he’d feel the need to hospitalize you.’ i don’t know. it’s just what i’m telling you i know about myself. i remember being so ruined once and going in there and being all fine and then getting out and two blocks from his office just sobbing and calling and leaving a voice mail saying “i don’t care what i SOUND like. if i tell you i’m SAD and really bad, please just listen to my WORDS.”

so, that’s the thing. i am fine and showing up for work and eating and all of that. but i can tell that it’s harder for me to want to go to meetings and get out of bed and show up for commitments. i just bolted out of this NYE thing i was at tonight. i didn’t even say goodbye to anyone. i just had to get out NOW. and that was after two hours or so of random points of thinking that over and over again. the only thing that managed to keep me there was various acts of being of service.

anyway, i’m struggling. it’s better than it’s been. but it’s harder than life really ever needs to be. happy new year.

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