Sad.
Tonight I saw my breath outside.
During the course of a given day I think of little things I would like to post in here - simple moments that I want to remember, like the one I wrote above.
Why, then, am I only moved to write when experiencing some sort of emotional upheaval? Unless I'm severely depressed and unable to move I usually only give myself time to write when at one of my extremes.
I know that this journal helps me reflect in a way that I cannot inside my own mind, but I am so tired of writing about unhappiness.
Today I am sad. I am so sad. This morning I was truly depressed - and, much to my discomfort, I had to mark a lower spot on my mood chart than I would have liked - and tonight I am just... sad.
Maybe I am more in mourning than I am simply sad. I'm mourning the loss of my life; not the physical one, of course, but my conscious life - which, in many aspects, is so much more important.
I've lost nearly everything that is important to me. My career, my independence, my health - all of it seems impossible to ever gain due to faulty brain chemistry. I've fought all my life to be the best - to be perfect - and where did it get me? A reputation for being unreliable, sporadic, and irresponsible? Why did my mental health finally blow that thin tire while I was in this particular part of my life? Why is my daily experience - no, my fate - tied to how I'm feeling at a given moment? Why couldn't this have been prevented?
Why me?
I feel robbed.
Blessed are the meek; they shall inherit the earth. If at first you don't succeed try, try again. Good things come to those who wait. Blessed are the righteous; theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
That's an awful lot of wishful thinking. I don't believe in it anymore.
I don't believe in much anymore.
SuperAdvisor sent me a short email to ask me how I was doing.
I miss him and his family. I miss my choir friends - they're all on choir retreat this weekend. I miss eating normally. I miss my hope, my love, and my passion. I miss science. I miss who I am.
I feel like a shell. Everything else in me is dead or slowly being tortured by my haywire chemistry.
I will admit that for the past few days I have been wondering what good a shell that only contains disease is. I have been thinking of ways to dispose of that shell. The thoughts are quite strong right now. I'm not gonna do it, though.
...because I think about Storm. I think about Storm and I somehow manage to die a little more inside because I can never release myself while he is around. I think about Storm and I cry. My little boy still needs me, and I love him with a ferocity that I cannot explain.
...and I cry.
I don't want to be like this anymore. I don't want to be like this anymore. I don't want to be like this anymore. I don't want to be like this anymore.
I need to see a couple of doctors, but I do not have the money - and I cannot find an insurance that will cover pre-existing conditions right away. If I signed up for one I would have the monthly cost on top of the medications and the appointments that I cannot currently afford anyway.
...and all of that keeps me drifting further and further away from the life I wanted.
I don't want this anymore. I don't want this anymore.
The holidays are gonna be so sad this year.
Everything I look at reminds me of so many sad things.
I can't write anymore.
Sarah
During the course of a given day I think of little things I would like to post in here - simple moments that I want to remember, like the one I wrote above.
Why, then, am I only moved to write when experiencing some sort of emotional upheaval? Unless I'm severely depressed and unable to move I usually only give myself time to write when at one of my extremes.
I know that this journal helps me reflect in a way that I cannot inside my own mind, but I am so tired of writing about unhappiness.
Today I am sad. I am so sad. This morning I was truly depressed - and, much to my discomfort, I had to mark a lower spot on my mood chart than I would have liked - and tonight I am just... sad.
Maybe I am more in mourning than I am simply sad. I'm mourning the loss of my life; not the physical one, of course, but my conscious life - which, in many aspects, is so much more important.
I've lost nearly everything that is important to me. My career, my independence, my health - all of it seems impossible to ever gain due to faulty brain chemistry. I've fought all my life to be the best - to be perfect - and where did it get me? A reputation for being unreliable, sporadic, and irresponsible? Why did my mental health finally blow that thin tire while I was in this particular part of my life? Why is my daily experience - no, my fate - tied to how I'm feeling at a given moment? Why couldn't this have been prevented?
Why me?
I feel robbed.
Blessed are the meek; they shall inherit the earth. If at first you don't succeed try, try again. Good things come to those who wait. Blessed are the righteous; theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
That's an awful lot of wishful thinking. I don't believe in it anymore.
I don't believe in much anymore.
SuperAdvisor sent me a short email to ask me how I was doing.
I miss him and his family. I miss my choir friends - they're all on choir retreat this weekend. I miss eating normally. I miss my hope, my love, and my passion. I miss science. I miss who I am.
I feel like a shell. Everything else in me is dead or slowly being tortured by my haywire chemistry.
I will admit that for the past few days I have been wondering what good a shell that only contains disease is. I have been thinking of ways to dispose of that shell. The thoughts are quite strong right now. I'm not gonna do it, though.
...because I think about Storm. I think about Storm and I somehow manage to die a little more inside because I can never release myself while he is around. I think about Storm and I cry. My little boy still needs me, and I love him with a ferocity that I cannot explain.
...and I cry.
I don't want to be like this anymore. I don't want to be like this anymore. I don't want to be like this anymore. I don't want to be like this anymore.
I need to see a couple of doctors, but I do not have the money - and I cannot find an insurance that will cover pre-existing conditions right away. If I signed up for one I would have the monthly cost on top of the medications and the appointments that I cannot currently afford anyway.
...and all of that keeps me drifting further and further away from the life I wanted.
I don't want this anymore. I don't want this anymore.
The holidays are gonna be so sad this year.
Everything I look at reminds me of so many sad things.
I can't write anymore.
Sarah