(no subject)
My depression is really kicking my ass today. It's been slowly building up, but today...even *I* don't want to be around me.
I called my Cymbalta in, but the prescription had expired, so the pharmacy has to try to get 'hold of someone at the doctor's office tomorrow and see if they'll refill it. Meanwhile, I'm out. Guess I should get into my backup venlafaxine, if I have any left.
That's not the whole reason I'm depressed - I've run out before and not gotten this bad before. I don't know why it is that I'm so bad off this time.
Just...tired. Of everything. Tired of taking pills just to feel normal, or something approximating it. Tired of feeling like a failure. Tired of fighting everything and not getting anywhere. Tired of feeling like everyone hates/is angry at/is disappointed in me.
Intellectually, I know everything is all right, but try telling that to my "other" brain. I ache, all over. I feel like I need to cry - have tried, in fact - but I'm afraid that if I let go...I won't recover.
I know it's all the same old shit that I deal with all the time. I never cease to be dismayed at its capacity to hurt more each time it comes up. It's like a living thing, kept at bay with the meds and the "positive" thinking, but still there, scheming and getting stronger with each passing day, probing for chinks in the armor with little black tentacles.
I called my Cymbalta in, but the prescription had expired, so the pharmacy has to try to get 'hold of someone at the doctor's office tomorrow and see if they'll refill it. Meanwhile, I'm out. Guess I should get into my backup venlafaxine, if I have any left.
That's not the whole reason I'm depressed - I've run out before and not gotten this bad before. I don't know why it is that I'm so bad off this time.
Just...tired. Of everything. Tired of taking pills just to feel normal, or something approximating it. Tired of feeling like a failure. Tired of fighting everything and not getting anywhere. Tired of feeling like everyone hates/is angry at/is disappointed in me.
Intellectually, I know everything is all right, but try telling that to my "other" brain. I ache, all over. I feel like I need to cry - have tried, in fact - but I'm afraid that if I let go...I won't recover.
I know it's all the same old shit that I deal with all the time. I never cease to be dismayed at its capacity to hurt more each time it comes up. It's like a living thing, kept at bay with the meds and the "positive" thinking, but still there, scheming and getting stronger with each passing day, probing for chinks in the armor with little black tentacles.