There are periods when I feel so down that it is an effort to even make the food that I want but know that I should not have. During these periods I feel so despondent that I regularly wish that I could just die a peaceful death and that there would be no more pain.
I think about death a great deal. I cry a lot. I am constantly agitated and living with so much fear that it cripples me. There are the things that I must do and they tend to get done, albeit badly, and then there are the things that should be done and they tend not to get done at all and just haunt me. By the time I get around to doing them, if ever, they turn out to be even more difficult because I have put them off.
Anything administrative tends to crush me. Tax. Government forms. Answering mail. Doing the finances. Even applying for help of any kind becomes so horrifyingly hard that I will suffer any indignity rather than just do it.
In some ways I am amazed that I am even still writing this blog. I know that I am not doing well, but doing it at all is probably a good thing. I think.
I have this fantasy that I will get though this and that I will lose the weight and overcome the depression and finally make of my life what I want it to be and then, just at the moment that I think that I am through, this blog comes back to haunt me.
That is the fantasy. The reality is that I probably will never make it though and I am just humiliating myself for nothing. Shit isn’t it?
I think about death a great deal. I cry a lot. I am constantly agitated and living with so much fear that it cripples me. There are the things that I must do and they tend to get done, albeit badly, and then there are the things that should be done and they tend not to get done at all and just haunt me. By the time I get around to doing them, if ever, they turn out to be even more difficult because I have put them off.
Anything administrative tends to crush me. Tax. Government forms. Answering mail. Doing the finances. Even applying for help of any kind becomes so horrifyingly hard that I will suffer any indignity rather than just do it.
In some ways I am amazed that I am even still writing this blog. I know that I am not doing well, but doing it at all is probably a good thing. I think.
I have this fantasy that I will get though this and that I will lose the weight and overcome the depression and finally make of my life what I want it to be and then, just at the moment that I think that I am through, this blog comes back to haunt me.
That is the fantasy. The reality is that I probably will never make it though and I am just humiliating myself for nothing. Shit isn’t it?
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