I think you just get tired

Or I do, anyway.

I feel perpetually exhausted at the thought of the struggle to come out on the other side of this latest bout of depression. I’ve done all the right things, put all the support networks in place prior and it STILL hasn’t helped. Except maybe to convince people that I am functioning well, when the truth is that I am not.

 

It is not constant, either, which you’d think would be a good thing but in my case, again no. I get brief periods when I think I’m coping well but they never last longer than an hour or so, tops. Back down to the depths again and more utter misery, probably compounded  with extra obligations, due to the things I committed to do the last time I felt ok.

I don’t want to put any of my grief on my mother or my SIL (I suspect all three of us are behaving similarly, though, and withholding for the same reasons) so my poor husband gets it all. He’s been sterling but I wouldn’t want to be married to me right now. Hell, I don’t even want to be me right now.

The constant fluctuation of up and down is so much more exhausting than just being chronically depressed. It also totally fucks up my memory and I can’t remember more than two thoughts  in a progression. Life is a huge, huge struggle right now.

And I am so tired. I dream every night; exhaustive scary dreams that I remember the next day. This week’s winner was me being chased through the dense words by a big black dog/cat thing that constantly bit my legs as I ran: I couldn’t see it because of the dark night and the bites came totally at random out of the dark. I was absolutely terrified,both in the dream and when I woke up.

 

I only ever have such vivid nightmares (or even regular memorable dreams) when I am mired in the mud and fog of clinical depression.

The black dog is chasing me.

 

 

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About quirkycharm

I like to think that I have a certain quirky charm but I am probably being optimistic. Acquired taste, perhaps, which many don't acquire. This is about my fifth blog out there. My hosting companies kept going out of business or my IT exhusband kept hacking into them and I would move again. I don't do twitter, I barely do facebook, I don't try and 'monetize' my blog. I love my husband, my grown children and my job and this particular incarnation of oversharing my life comes at a time when I am the most content that I have ever been. I write always, sporadically during the good stuff and exhaustingly during the bad.
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