Times like these...
It's been another bad day and for the first time in years, I am having the urge to write again and just get my feelings down... even if no one is listening.
I am in such a bad place right now and as the evening goes on, I find myself panicking as people say goodnight and go to bed. I chat on and off through text messages to two offline people and a few online people, mostly because no one seems to have the time to pick up a phone or meet in person these days. I would prefer that, always, but people have their excuses and they are satisfied with messaging, I guess. So I just deal with the only form of communication people are willing to give me. And as they all go to bed, my anxiety kicks in because I will then be completely alone. Again. While I have been off work, my sleep schedule is a bit later. Sometimes I wish I could go to bed at eight before anyone else does, but my body refuses no matter how exhausted I am. Insomnia takes over sometimes. Even if I have felt like garbage all day, it seems even worse in the dark of night when all is quiet. It seems menacing, even. I remember when the dark was my friend. Everyone used to call my bedroom a "cave." Aside from the glow of a monitor and some string lights, it was always pitch black and I loved it. Now? Dark terrifies me. It signals my mind to go a mile a minute and delve into places it will not dare go during daylight. Strange how things change.
It was especially upsetting today because though my relationship with my father has been so much better the last few years that we have not been living together, we got in an argument today that brought back all those memories of never feeling like enough, never feeling he was proud of me and never comforting me the way a father should when his daughter is feeling bad. I have absolutely no idea why (WHY WHY WHY), but he asked me how much debt I had during a phone call and I answered him honestly. Each and every time he has asked me before, I have told him it is none of his business. And it is not his business. But for some reason, I lost my fucking mind and I answered him this time. Part of me thinks it was because I wanted to feel like I could tell him and trust him not flip out after how far we have come with our relationship. The other part of me thinks I am just that far gone right now and was not even thinking about what I was saying. Well, he did flip out, and he managed to make me feel just as small as he did when I was growing up. I felt defeated. I got off the phone and just cried for an hour. The debt was accumulated when I was in university and because I had shitty, low paying jobs out of university and then kept being laid off, it was the only way I could survive because my father was not exactly someone you asked for money. He did help with my tuition my second year (my first year was paid via scholarship), but the rest was up to me and I am still paying those loans. The debt was no shopping spree, believe me. It was for school books, a laptop I needed for school, surviving while I was in bouts of unemployment. The job I had while in university was minimum wage and only part time because I was doing a double major. I have not touched a credit card in years; I have just been paying the minimum balance because since then I have lived paycheck-to-paycheck, especially when I moved out and suddenly had to pay 100% of the bills. You cannot pay off debt when you are living that way. Now my father got a job right out of high school in his first year of college, and he left college to pursue that career and ended up working there until he retired. Lucky him. In my generation, no one will keep the same job until retirement. That is unheard of. He also made a lot of money and just cannot fathom someone who only gets by. He is so used to living comfortably that he thinks debt is something only morons accumulate. And that is how he made me feel: like a moron he was completely disappointed in. Again. In all honesty, it is not even that bad. Most people I know have far more debt than me. But yes, it will take me many years to pay off if I do not obtain a job that pays more than my last one and if I continue to live alone. (Marriage solves a whole lot of problems, doesn't it?) His lack of empathy and understanding really disappointed me, and I was honestly ashamed even though I know, deep down, I did what I had to do at the time and it was not me being frivolous or stupid.
Three years ago, when I was truly suffering and barely able to drag myself into work each day, I decided to go back on anti-depressants. Anyone who has been on them will know and understand that they do not make you feel "better," just numb. It is simply a Band-Aid that, if pulled off, will reveal the wound exactly as it was before. There seems to be this misconception that they make you feel great and positive. They do not. They simply take away the emotional extremes, which includes extreme happiness. You don't feel happiness on meds. They do not make you feel better; they make you feel nothing. The last thing I want to do is go back on them again, but tonight seemed to be the last straw for me and I thought about going back to my doctor this week and telling him I want to go back on them again. I feel like even my best friend does not want to deal with me anymore, as she never seems to want to call even on days where I am sending messages that even scare me. Even in person, I am trying to talk about something and the subject somehow gets changed. The only other 'friend' I have right now is on a streak of letting me down and never being there when I need him. He just forgets that I exist and then one day I hear from him again and he acts like he never disappeared. Beyond that, I really have no support system. I feel like that combined with the fact that I am struggling to find a job before my insurance runs out in a few months and all the financial struggles that come along with trying to survive on literally half your salary make this my only option right now. Maybe it is better to feel nothing right now. Maybe that is what I need. I have no idea. I know I don't want to do it but I feel like I am running out of options as I feel more and more crippled by my situation and the lack of love and support.
I have no idea what I will do. I guess I should just make an appointment and talk to my doctor about it. I suppose I can make a decision at a later point if I so choose.
I thought about something tonight that I have not thought about in a long time. Since I have been struggling with depression my entire life, even as a kid, I remember there being days where I would just shut the door to my bedroom and cry as quietly as I could so my father could not hear. I couldn't talk to my father. We had such a terrible relationship and he was so emotionally detached and cold. I never, ever felt like I could open up to him. So I would go into my room and just have these breakdowns where I would cry for hours until my eyes were swollen, my throat was sore and I could barely breathe. Back then, I had not been on medication and sometimes I felt like the crying would never stop. And I remember a few times throwing myself on to my knees and getting into a prayer position at the side of my bed, closing my eyes and whispering in the most desperate voice, tears streaming down my cheeks... not to God, because I was never religious, but my mother. I told her I knew it was not her fault but why, oh why, did she have to leave me with this person who did not even love me. I remember praying to her and asking if she could please make my life better and make everything stop hurting. Even back then I knew how silly it was, but I did it anyway on my worst days.
The reason I remembered this tonight is because I felt like doing it. I was thinking about how much pain I have been in the last five years, everything I have gone through, and it all just felt like too much. I also thought about how strong I have been and how much I have pushed through. I keep wondering why it all has to be so hard, even as a full grown adult. I just felt like talking to her again like I used to. I even used to write her letters hoping there would be some sign in the morning that she had read them. I know my mother cannot help me. It is such a silly notion. I just wish she was still here during these times because of all people, I know I would see her face more than her back.
I wish I felt better after writing this but I do not think I do. Oh, well. I am sure it somehow worked some magic inside of me like it used to. I still see writing as the reason I got through everything I did back then. It was the only therapy that ever worked. Maybe if I keep writing it will become that cathartic again?
God, I am so depressing.
I am in such a bad place right now and as the evening goes on, I find myself panicking as people say goodnight and go to bed. I chat on and off through text messages to two offline people and a few online people, mostly because no one seems to have the time to pick up a phone or meet in person these days. I would prefer that, always, but people have their excuses and they are satisfied with messaging, I guess. So I just deal with the only form of communication people are willing to give me. And as they all go to bed, my anxiety kicks in because I will then be completely alone. Again. While I have been off work, my sleep schedule is a bit later. Sometimes I wish I could go to bed at eight before anyone else does, but my body refuses no matter how exhausted I am. Insomnia takes over sometimes. Even if I have felt like garbage all day, it seems even worse in the dark of night when all is quiet. It seems menacing, even. I remember when the dark was my friend. Everyone used to call my bedroom a "cave." Aside from the glow of a monitor and some string lights, it was always pitch black and I loved it. Now? Dark terrifies me. It signals my mind to go a mile a minute and delve into places it will not dare go during daylight. Strange how things change.
It was especially upsetting today because though my relationship with my father has been so much better the last few years that we have not been living together, we got in an argument today that brought back all those memories of never feeling like enough, never feeling he was proud of me and never comforting me the way a father should when his daughter is feeling bad. I have absolutely no idea why (WHY WHY WHY), but he asked me how much debt I had during a phone call and I answered him honestly. Each and every time he has asked me before, I have told him it is none of his business. And it is not his business. But for some reason, I lost my fucking mind and I answered him this time. Part of me thinks it was because I wanted to feel like I could tell him and trust him not flip out after how far we have come with our relationship. The other part of me thinks I am just that far gone right now and was not even thinking about what I was saying. Well, he did flip out, and he managed to make me feel just as small as he did when I was growing up. I felt defeated. I got off the phone and just cried for an hour. The debt was accumulated when I was in university and because I had shitty, low paying jobs out of university and then kept being laid off, it was the only way I could survive because my father was not exactly someone you asked for money. He did help with my tuition my second year (my first year was paid via scholarship), but the rest was up to me and I am still paying those loans. The debt was no shopping spree, believe me. It was for school books, a laptop I needed for school, surviving while I was in bouts of unemployment. The job I had while in university was minimum wage and only part time because I was doing a double major. I have not touched a credit card in years; I have just been paying the minimum balance because since then I have lived paycheck-to-paycheck, especially when I moved out and suddenly had to pay 100% of the bills. You cannot pay off debt when you are living that way. Now my father got a job right out of high school in his first year of college, and he left college to pursue that career and ended up working there until he retired. Lucky him. In my generation, no one will keep the same job until retirement. That is unheard of. He also made a lot of money and just cannot fathom someone who only gets by. He is so used to living comfortably that he thinks debt is something only morons accumulate. And that is how he made me feel: like a moron he was completely disappointed in. Again. In all honesty, it is not even that bad. Most people I know have far more debt than me. But yes, it will take me many years to pay off if I do not obtain a job that pays more than my last one and if I continue to live alone. (Marriage solves a whole lot of problems, doesn't it?) His lack of empathy and understanding really disappointed me, and I was honestly ashamed even though I know, deep down, I did what I had to do at the time and it was not me being frivolous or stupid.
Three years ago, when I was truly suffering and barely able to drag myself into work each day, I decided to go back on anti-depressants. Anyone who has been on them will know and understand that they do not make you feel "better," just numb. It is simply a Band-Aid that, if pulled off, will reveal the wound exactly as it was before. There seems to be this misconception that they make you feel great and positive. They do not. They simply take away the emotional extremes, which includes extreme happiness. You don't feel happiness on meds. They do not make you feel better; they make you feel nothing. The last thing I want to do is go back on them again, but tonight seemed to be the last straw for me and I thought about going back to my doctor this week and telling him I want to go back on them again. I feel like even my best friend does not want to deal with me anymore, as she never seems to want to call even on days where I am sending messages that even scare me. Even in person, I am trying to talk about something and the subject somehow gets changed. The only other 'friend' I have right now is on a streak of letting me down and never being there when I need him. He just forgets that I exist and then one day I hear from him again and he acts like he never disappeared. Beyond that, I really have no support system. I feel like that combined with the fact that I am struggling to find a job before my insurance runs out in a few months and all the financial struggles that come along with trying to survive on literally half your salary make this my only option right now. Maybe it is better to feel nothing right now. Maybe that is what I need. I have no idea. I know I don't want to do it but I feel like I am running out of options as I feel more and more crippled by my situation and the lack of love and support.
I have no idea what I will do. I guess I should just make an appointment and talk to my doctor about it. I suppose I can make a decision at a later point if I so choose.
I thought about something tonight that I have not thought about in a long time. Since I have been struggling with depression my entire life, even as a kid, I remember there being days where I would just shut the door to my bedroom and cry as quietly as I could so my father could not hear. I couldn't talk to my father. We had such a terrible relationship and he was so emotionally detached and cold. I never, ever felt like I could open up to him. So I would go into my room and just have these breakdowns where I would cry for hours until my eyes were swollen, my throat was sore and I could barely breathe. Back then, I had not been on medication and sometimes I felt like the crying would never stop. And I remember a few times throwing myself on to my knees and getting into a prayer position at the side of my bed, closing my eyes and whispering in the most desperate voice, tears streaming down my cheeks... not to God, because I was never religious, but my mother. I told her I knew it was not her fault but why, oh why, did she have to leave me with this person who did not even love me. I remember praying to her and asking if she could please make my life better and make everything stop hurting. Even back then I knew how silly it was, but I did it anyway on my worst days.
The reason I remembered this tonight is because I felt like doing it. I was thinking about how much pain I have been in the last five years, everything I have gone through, and it all just felt like too much. I also thought about how strong I have been and how much I have pushed through. I keep wondering why it all has to be so hard, even as a full grown adult. I just felt like talking to her again like I used to. I even used to write her letters hoping there would be some sign in the morning that she had read them. I know my mother cannot help me. It is such a silly notion. I just wish she was still here during these times because of all people, I know I would see her face more than her back.
I wish I felt better after writing this but I do not think I do. Oh, well. I am sure it somehow worked some magic inside of me like it used to. I still see writing as the reason I got through everything I did back then. It was the only therapy that ever worked. Maybe if I keep writing it will become that cathartic again?
God, I am so depressing.