It’s been nearly a year since I first wrote about feeling depressed. I wish I could say things have improved, but they unfortunately haven’t. I’ve just managed to get through Christmas and New Year, barely, and have been a hermit for the past few months.
I wish I could see past these feelings and reach out to fix myself. I wish I didn’t feel so pointless. But I do wonder on a regular basis, just exactly what is the point of Me? I haven’t achieved anything. I haven’t helped anyone. I haven’t created anything worthwhile. I haven’t got anything going for me. My father is dead, my mother is (understandably) needy and my daughter is independent these days. My hair is grey, my pockets are empty and so is my joy.
I keep trying to do things to get my creative career moving again, and they start off alright, until I get too overwhelmed to continue. Then the bed’s siren song overcomes me, and I stay there for days. The most frustrating thing about this is that NOBODY HAS ANY IDEA. Everyone with whom I interact on a daily basis takes my facade for reality. No-one knows how close I am to leaving it all behind me. This means that when I take on tasks or agree to meet people and do things, then cancel or hide, I have to face their anger, as they have no idea why I have become so flaky. One friend in particular was very understanding about the depression when I tried to explain, that is until it affected her directly, then she found it impossible. I have on occasion tried to talk to my mother. I tell her I’m down, and the response is usually something along the lines of, ‘Well, I suggest you get ‘up’ again’, or, ‘You can’t afford to be, just snap out of it’. I have given up trying.
My boyfriend is growing ever further away from me; his achievements frighten me and make me feel so much smaller by comparison. I am proud of him, but I recognise that increasingly people probably wonder what on earth he is with me for. He is an optimist, a Fixer, and can’t understand these moods; he suggests things to make me better, which I do obligingly, and show him the fake smile that will stop him from worrying – as I know that if the truth becomes too apparent, he will leave me. I’m not entirely sure why he is still with me anyway – I am not the vibrant, attractive, driven and ambitious woman I was when we met. I am a dark shadow who barely exists anymore. I have mixed feelings about him leaving – I know I should encourage him to go as he would be much better off having a relationship with someone without all this baggage, and easy to get along with. He deserves someone who shines as much as he does; who adds to his light rather than sucks it away. However I cannot imagine my world without him. Actually, I can, it would just be more of the same, only without his voice and the comfort of his arms, until I am swallowed by the dark.
There are too many things I ‘need’ to do and I want to escape them; I think if it wasn’t for fear of Hell and for being thought of as selfish, I’d be dead by now. My dreams are impossible, faded away, unachievable. I know I won’t end anything, yet, as I haven’t so far; I’ll just keep numbly plodding on until old age claims me. I can’t see a future for me at the moment, just darkness and joylessness.
I apologise to anyone reading this for my extreme self-pity; I am aware there are people in this world who smile through the worst kinds of hardship, and that at least I have a roof over my head, and that I live in the richest hemisphere of the world, etc etc and etc. I don’t dispute those things, but knowing them does not help me feel better. This is merely another attempt at catharsis; I needed to express myself and make no apologies for doing that.
It’s nearly 7am. Another day is beginning, and I’m not sure what to do about that. It frightens me.