I’m not in the mood to write, but I know it helps me. So I’m going to choose to do the healthy thing even though it is the thing I least want to do.
In fact, the thing I would most like to do is completely give up. Only I can’t. Because of alot of things. Because other people depend on me. Because I have kids. Because it would be the easy way out. Because it wouldn’t fix anything. Because I have to keep keeping on.
I’m not in the best place right now. I know those of you who know depression understand. So I know that I have to focus on the positive right now. I have to force myself to get through each minute of each day and just focus on what is right in front of me.
I need to take a walk.
I need to focus on breathing.
I need to write to make it alright.
I remember when I was in the psychiatric hospital, we used to get together every morning and state our goal for the day. Over and over my goal was simply “breathe.” Maybe people thought I wasn’t being serious (or maybe that was my paranoid thoughts about what others were thinking of me) but it was literally all I could do to just focus on breathing and being alive. Like, accepting that I’m here and this is it and this is what I had to deal with. Cause I fought it so hard, fought the fact that I was in the hospital, fought the fact that I had to take care of myself before I could take care of anything else. Accept that I was sick.
We had art class in the hospital, and it was life-changing for me. It still is so hard for me to draw or create something art-ful. Because I feel like I don’t do it well enough or that it won’t look good and so why should I even try? I need to get back to that therapeutic aspect cause once I started doing it, I realized that it was helpful. Like helpful-alot.
Right now, today, I have to go to work. I have to put on a stupid red apron with all this Christmas crap on it and I have to smile and I have to make stupid jokes with the customers. And I’m doing it for my kids. To support us because I’m the only one that can. I have to miss out on them getting off the bus. I have to work until night and then I get to see them for a while before they go to bed.
Vent/rant: I’m so sick of everything. I’m so sick of trying so hard for just simple things. Like getting dressed, getting ready, driving to work. Working. Coming home and trying to be there for my family. All I really want to do is be alone. I imagine myself going to a soft cabin in the woods somewhere, being completely alone with myself and no one else. Just feeding myself and sleeping and maybe writing a little and maybe, if I get the confidence to do it, drawing. Or creating something. Anything.
This summer I spent time with my sister and her niece and my kids and my sister’s husband. And we were at a beach and we had just ate pizza at the beach and we had to leave so we decided, let’s take one more jump in the water, and then we’ll pack everything up and go.
So I dove out into the water and I forgot about my kids and my sister and I left my life on the shore and I swam out and out and out and just kept crashing my body into the water over and over, diving farther and farther out, away from everything. I would jump up, throw myself into the water, crash through the surface, immerse my whole body deep under the water, then rise back up and do it again. It was the single best experience of my entire year.