feeling like a complete failure

Just realized it’s been a few days since my last post. I figure if I try to write something every day or every other day, it will be good for me as I can’t seem to write in my journals anymore. I stare at the blank pages and nothing comes or a bunch of thoughts come strolling by but just don’t jot it down like I used to.  It takes me a long while to get into the mood to write lately.  I guess it’s mostly because during the day I am rushing to do my job and those days that I am not and can actually sit longer than a few minutes at Starbucks, I just end up staring out the window looking at traffic going by.  Most of it is a “why bother”. I write pretty much the same thing in the same tone, unless I’m pissed off about something.  Like most of my journals, I write the same thing year after year, just a different date about how sucky my pain and depression is.

I know that there are quite a lot of people in my life that would be devastated if I ended my life, not to mention my family. I can’t even begin to think about what it would do to my teenaged nieces and nephew and my little five year old.  I just shut it out because I know if I don’t, I just go on. I’m angry about this, so bloody angry.  All these people want me to live FOR THEM, not me.  They care about my suffering yet they think of their own if I was not a part of their life anymore.  They don’t have to live my life, walk in my shoes, and be in pain every day.  It’s like when I had back surgery and still didn’t have full use of my legs, walking around in my walker. I couldn’t shower because I had a staph infection and stitches. The doc felt that if I showered with the stitches still in, it would make the infection worse. So I hadn’t showered in two weeks. I didn’t know if I was ever going to walk normal again so I bitched about it to my psycho aunt and her response was “yea, you think that is bad, try not having a shower for 2 months when you have a broken leg.” Seriously??? You are comparing a broken limb with nerve damage and back surgery so bad that I had to relearn how to walk and had no clue if a cane was going to be a part for the rest of my life when I was 25???? Give me a friggen break!  No one fucking understands that I am DEAD, just my brain and my heart don’t know it because they keep on functioning my lungs and beating my heart. 

I was supposed to meet with my psychiatrist today to have a “talk” but because I had no sleep, I woke up later than I wanted to and thus left the house later to go to a dialysis site 70 miles away.  I didn’t know if I was going to be back to work on time or not, depending on traffic, so I emailed her saying it might not be possible.  She said it would be “ok if I was ‘ok’” and the ER was busy. Well, hello, it’s January, depression time of the year for depressives.  We agreed to meet Wednesday. I only bring this up because I knew I’d be wasting my time with her. She has nothing new up her sleeve. No drug company has invented another anti-depressant in the past month so I am screwed. I’m just supposed to “tough” it out until this passes. Hello, it doesn’t pass or if it does, it is only for a little while. 

It’s now Wednesday. I just came from my meeting with my pdoc and I am utterly exhausted.  She was telling me how Winston Churchill had a “black dog” and compared it very nicely to my episodes of depression.  Wow, one fricken famous person with depression who DIDN’T kill himself. I kind of feel honored. I know Stryon didn’t, though came pretty close. But dealing with this stuff everyday is draining.  I feel like a failure because I can’t make it in to work. I don’t have the energy or motivation or focus to do what I need to do. Even as I am writing this, tears are welling up because it just hurts so bad and there is nothing I can take for this kind of hurt. I don’t even want to go out again later today to see my therapist.

One thing that continues to piss me off is how people compare my depression to everyone elses.  Sorry it’s not the same. Not to say I suffer more with it, but hell, most of these people WILL NEVER have another episode again or if they do, it won’t be as bad or as long as it was. Yes, the more episodes decreases the length of time between episodes, but these episodes last a long time, are frequent, and one of these times I know I’m just going to end my life. No goodbyes, no notes (except for maybe this blog), just up and gone. It’s just like with back pain. Everyone has it, but when I hurt, I REALLY hurt. And you cannot tell me it’s the same thing, because last I checked, your back pain didn’t require surgery or cause nerve damage.  I remember reading a paper about spoons to get people to understand what it is like dealing with chronic pain.  I don’t mean to come off as unempathetic. I have two friends who have lupus so I know they suffer, maybe not the same as I do, but it still takes them a while to get going when they get up, to get their kids ready for school, do housework, make breakfast, dinner, etc just like it takes me (minus the kid part).  It usually takes me an hour to get ready most days where as before it only took about as long to brush my teeth, put on clothes and shoes, and out the door.  I sometimes have to remember to shower every couple of days because it isn’t on my list of priorities.  Usually a shower can be refreshing but lately I find it more exhausting, especially when I take it when I first wake up.   The point is that I am sick of people denying that I hurt because my pain is just not visible to them. My surgery was more than 4 years ago so why should I still be in pain? Or my surgery was on my back not my leg so why don’t you get your leg checked out.  I’d like to hand out stupid signs but they still wouldn’t get it.

I often wonder if I can just shove an ice pick in my brain stem just to stop breathing.