It's so hard to see people at big gatherings when I am so unhappy with my work and so many aspects of myself and my life. Even the seemingly simple questions (How's work? What did you do this summer?) are painful. I love my work but hate my work situation (boss, overwhelming caseload, endless hours). This summer I worked and ate and slept. And cried, sometimes. I make few plans because I avoid talking on the phone (nothing to say) and don't go to places and events where I might see the people whose friendship and company I used to enjoy. I work, take my medication, see my therapist, and I eat. And eat some more. I can't seem to be satisfied. I rarely feel full, and occasionally lose interest in food ... but never for long. I have been looking, with what little energy I can muster, for another job. I have been trying, with only minimal success, to exercise a little bit. Walking (more than from bed to couch to kitchen to couch to bed) and swimming (not just relaxing in a whirlpool) are my preferred modes, but I haven't been partaking of them much. Mostly I just manage to get through every day until it's time to go to sleep again, and I force myself to get dressed and go to work on the appropriate days. Jammies and no showers on weekends have (has?) become de rigueur.
I take my meds and I see my therapist and I see my shrink. I do all the things I am supposed to, mostly, but I also cry. And I can't write this on Facebook, where people mean well but can't tolerate unhappy unless the next happy post goes up immediately. I miss blogging, even though I have nothing to say. But I am glad that you are still here, blog and dwindling bloggy friends. Even when I don't say so, I really am glad you're here.
Posted by cynical at September 28, 2009 01:57 PMI'm glad you're here, too. That is all.
Posted by: Solonor on September 28, 2009 04:45 PMI know your pain. I am your friend.
Posted by: Brian on September 28, 2009 07:09 PMI think you should come visit me. I'm no cure, but I think we can have some kinda fun!
Posted by: Karan on September 28, 2009 07:36 PMI love you so much, and it breaks my heart for you to be in so much pain. I wish I could fix this-it's an endless cycle...each thing leads to the next, with never an out. I know you know I know.
Posted by: jill on September 28, 2009 07:47 PMI'm here for you girl. I can totally relate. Wish I had made it out your way this summer for a visit.
Posted by: Chapin on October 3, 2009 12:22 PMI echo Karan's offer. We have a great guest room; we encourage sleeping 'til noon; we offer a wide range of critters for pet therapy, and we'll feed you.
I know where you're coming from. Have you asked about a meds adjustment?
Alternatively, I could hire a hitman.
Many hugs.
Posted by: tomorrow on October 3, 2009 12:30 PMIt's kinda gray and cloudy here today, with vog from the Big Island to boot. But nonetheless, we have a guest room.
Posted by: Linkmeister on October 10, 2009 08:57 PMIt was brought to my attention tonight that I've been neglecting the blogs of those dear to me, and that I have been missing out on some substantive content.
I think the desire for the next happy post (or at least I *choose to believe* that desire) comes from the feeling of impotence at the distance between one person, and the insides of someone they care about. That's why I want to slit you open and crawl inside, Shelley.
Wow. That's actually worse than the skipped 'blood bath' joke!
The idea that you can spend every minute of every day with someone, trying to distract them. To comfort them. Only to fail. That impotence is brought into even sharper focus by the physical distance between so many friends in this kooky Internet thingee.
So people are glad for the update, they hurt for you, and they know they can't do fuckall about it, so they just want to move on. Give 'em the happy.
I say all of that because, well, because I don't know what to say. I know this is something you've struggled off and on with for a long time, and that no few simple platitudes typed by me, however genuine and/or well-intentioned will ultimately make a lick of difference in how you're feeling in as little as half an hour from now. And there's nothing I could say anyway, that you don't already know. This too shall pass. You are a person of tremendous value. I love you dearly. Clatter bang and rattle of the same old drums, pounded earnestly yet mostly futilely.
I guess the best I can say is I feel you. I've been there. You know of my suicide pact that was in place about this time last year. You know too how well things are going for me now. I count myself lucky today, but I know how fast fortunes change. I would encourage you to remember that as well. It sounds like things have turned around for you some already. I am encouraged. I share your relief. I wish you well.
You are deep in my heart, Shelley. Head up. You are too good for your circumstances, and I genuinely believe that one day your circumstances will catch up to you. On that day, I'll have just two things to say to you:
a) I told you so.
2) Can I borrow bus fare?