*** DISCLAIMER ***
I’m going to talk about things like feelings, pain, depression, and more. It probably won’t be a whole lot of fun. But I guess it’s not supposed to be. If you or someone you know is struggling, you’re not alone. You don’t ever have to be alone. Anyways, if you’re still here, thank you and here we go.
Yesterday I went to the doctor to talk about how much I hate my medication. I told them I’m tired of hurting, of being tired, of feeling like I spend most my time in a barely-to-mostly functional fog. They told me they’d like to run more tests, do some research, and see me again in a couple weeks. I scheduled my next appointment and left. After that I wound up at the church my parents used to take me to when I was a kid. It was empty, and quiet. It smelled like frankincense and smoke and flowers. I sat on a pew and I cried for half an hour.
There were no bolts of lightning or beams of sunlight while I was at the church. There were no revelations or messengers, but when I left I was calm. I was empty, at least for a little while, and I could think. I thought painful, uncomfortable thoughts. I’ve dealt with chronic depression and health issues my whole life, and earlier this year I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. I guess, needless to say, it’s been kind of rough. Don’t get me wrong, it hasn’t all been bad–but it hasn’t all been good, either. And that’s life. But right now, at this point in my life, I think I’m more tired than I have ever been. I’m tired of being tired, and scared, and hurting.
So I’m going to do something about it. Do or do not, right? I’m not going to try and be better. I’m going to get better. I’m going to do better. I’m going to quit digging myself into holes, and convincing myself that the best way to get out is to just keep digging the damn hole deeper. Depression is insidious and dreadful like that. It changes the way you think, the way you act. It changes the way you treat other people, even the people closest to you that have the audacity of trying to help.
But–and I have to remind myself of this all the time–I can do something about it. I can fight. I can quit giving in. I can do better, be better, take better care of myself and get on with getting on. Survival isn’t good enough anymore. Survival isn’t living. Surviving, fighting all the time just to get to the end of the day, it turns the days into a blur. Every step forward is a grinding, awful chore.
I want to do better.
I want to be better.
My body and brain may be against me but I don’t have to take it anymore, and I’m not. This isn’t rock bottom, but I can see it from here.
Anyways. There really isn’t a point to all of this. I suppose it’s just a clearing of the air, getting it all out.
Take care of yourself. Be kind to yourself.
Stay tuned. Good things are coming.