Hey, it's me again... sorry I have disappeared. You see I fell down a deep, dark hole. It was more than depression and anxiety this time. It was despair and hopelessness, wondering if I am ever gonna make it out for good. Fighting alone is exhausting, and after a while you think "why am I fighting?", I've lost meaningful connections, and relationships when I needed them most, why, oh this little thing in my head that freaks out when I am awake.
I watched Grey's anatomy season 2 episode 10(?) where there is a man who has been in a vegetative state for 16 years, and something happens and he is brought to the hospital where they realize he is actually semi conscious, and Meredith says how it would be nice to be like him, asleep for 16 years.
I agree to, sleep is where I am free, where it doesn't pain me and I don't have to deal with an anxiety attack.
I don't even remember who I am anymore, sometimes I don't even like being me, so why would others and you know they one thing that keeps me going? It's that I care about others pain if I left (that and I am to damn responsible and can't leave them with my debt). Isn't that ironic, when I have no one around to help me, and yet I am giving my life for them. I am living an every day hell.
I finally reached out to a psychiatrist but apparently there are to many others who feel the way I do and are seeking help (yay!) the wait list is 6 weeks long at a majority of clinics.
So in the meantime, I've gone part time and lost my insurance and I can't afford it on my own.
I am praying for a miracle, and maybe the miracle is that I get up each day despite the odds and chose to live. I am a fighter, and if this disease wasn't so crippling I would be conquering the world, instead I am conquering ant hills.
Perhaps it's like any chronic disease, only instead of forming support groups we suffer alone (I don't know that I could make it to one even if there were groups). Which is again ironic... you take each day and as it is, and to serve others maybe its a quick text or phone call. Instead of something big like volunteering to help refugees, or make lunch for the homeless or clean join the neighborhood in cleaning the park.
My biggest fear is that my family will disown me, not in words but in pushing me out. Then where will I go and who will love me? It sucks to be a burden all the time. This monster is sucking the life out of me. I have died and yet my body still coasts thru life, day after day, week after week, year after year just craving a respite from the pain and the strength it requires to be ok.
To everyone suffering I say I wish you the best, may you find lasting peace, joy and happiness I have to believe it exists. I'll keep trying if you keep trying
