So, it's been a few months since I've updated this blog. Suddenly felt like I had to write again, so here it is.
Umm... well...
*sigh*
Lately, all I've felt like doing is punch a wall, take a sword to tree, cry, throw up, sleep, then do it all over again. The past two months have been all but devastating on my emotions, due to things (that I'm not quite so comfortable talking about here) happening consecutively. I guess, because of these "things," I've been much more exhausted than usual, and they've sapped me for almost all I have.
"Much more exhausted than usual." THAN USUAL. Which means I am ALWAYS EXHAUSTED. From what, you may ask? Well, from living, apparently. I'm frustrated, sad, lonely, not at all confident in myself, and see no purpose in waking up every morning. There's nothing I can offer this world, and it has nothing it can offer me. I've... "lost" the ability to appreciate life. I've lost the will to try new things, for fear that I'll mess up or fail or get hurt one way or another. I feel worthless and I hate what I see in the mirrors everyday, and I keep wishing that every time I fall asleep will be the last time I'll ever have to fall asleep again. I stay in my room and wait for time to pass, because my room is safe and nothing can come in masqueraiding as a blessing only to leave me and hurt me.
Am I content? Probably. Am I happy? God, no.
I decided to see a psychiatrist to find out if he could help. I told him everything. Every painful detail of my past and present, my thoughts, feelings, habits... everything.
His diagnosis was low-grade depression.
Christ.
I'm one of them, I thought to myself.
People are gonna think I'm making this shit up so they pay more attention to me and shower me with love and flowers and kind words and puppies and all that.
God, no. I have too much respect for people with mental illnesses. I'd never fake it. I just never realized I'd been one of them for... who the hell knows how long.
Apparently, one of the reasons my depression is "low-grade" is because, while I've constantly fantasized about my death, I've yet to actually plan out or attempt taking my own life. So I guess I'm not as far gone as I thought? I dunno. I'm sort of... numb(?) at the moment. But also teeming with emotions that sort of cancel each other out, so I'm not exactly doing much expressing of anything lately. Not sadness, nor fear, nor joy, nor pain. Right now, I'm just sort of... nothing.
I'm on a pill right now to help me get better. Taking half dosages for now to check for side effects. There don't seem to be any, so I'll likely start taking full dosages by next week. Not sure what exactly they're supposed to do, though. Something about... serotonin and repairing synapses in the brain... I forget the details. I'll probably Google it someday.
I just hope they work. I feel like I'm long overdue for this sort of treatment and I want to take control of my life again. I don't want this to beat me, but sometimes I forget to fight back because of how utterly tired and hopeless it makes me feel.
"Life is wonderful" is permanently inked on my fucking arm, for goodness' sake. I thought having those words tattoed on myself would remind me to always see every new day as another way to pursue happiness.
I just want to believe those three words again. Because, to be perfectly honest...
... it's been a while.
