Left to the curb...

I feel things heavily, darkly, like a hole in the earth should just swoop me in and I should cease.

I have serious case of Major Depressive Disorder and Anxiety.  And I haven't felt like a human in as many years as my meds keep increasing in dose.

I am broken.

And to the broken ones the pain of being discarded like a piece of trash is so much heavier than it is to someone who can process that they are good enough, they are okay.  Those of us who are not okay raise our heads slightly from the curb we've been dropped off at this day, this hour and hope things will soon be over.  But we manage to drag our smelly asses back to our homes and slip into bed for a little while longer, hoping that this time things will be different.

I have felt nothing for years. Except unworthy, not good. Dumb and Numb. Sounds like a stupid movie that should be made about the absolute ridiculousness of this disease.

I know on a heart level, a brain level, that I am good, I am smart.  In fact, I've always been one of the smartest (based on silly scores) in school, but it is what I based my value on.  I was always poised to succeed, despite this darkness in me, I lived two lives, one smiling for school pictures and getting shockingly good grades, whereas the other half wanted to stop existing.  This has been going on since I was fourteen and, friends I am tired.

I am tired of feeling too little and too much.  I give up.  Chasing the light is tiring and yet, when it shows up, it blinds me and I am fully in its grasp fully, trusting everything it promises. And, for a while there is an extra skip in my step, my armpits get shaved, I wear makeup and wear nice outfits.

Its only in recent years that I have become more open about my affliction (not sure how else to say this?), strange that I also had cancer and that was so much easier to talk about.  But this, this can skew the perception an employer can have of you.  It can make you act in strange and inexplicable ways in order to gain the approval of those that are above you.  And in doing so you just make yourself (myself) look more like the mess I wasn't only moments ago.  You become untrustworthy in the corporate world where every face better damn well show the same dry business face day after day.

And for the record I am a good and decent employee.  I work hard. I look after things and for the first time in one year I took two sick days.  Days where I didn't shower, get out of bed or notice the snot on my pillow from crying so hard that my insides hurt.

I am in awe of those people that walk around just being themselves.  I am myself and so many more as I try to please that person and that person and that person.  All I want is to be liked.  All I want is approval.  When I am in the midst of episode.  Which, in case, it wasn't clear, I am.  Spiralling.

I withdraw.

From the world.

But she won't let me go so easily.  I went to work today.  Showered.  Hair unwashed.  Looking a little like a hippie hobo.  But I did it.  I got out of bed today and I worked.  But I can hear it whispering to me:  "Settle down," the dark says, "we've got you, there is never a need to go back. You can trust us.  You cannot scare us away, no matter what."

And I want to find a cave where I can lie down, curl up and never get up.  But I don't think it works like that when you are a mother.  When you remember your love for your children.  Respect your husband for his insane continued partnership with you.  Even when you tell him.  You tell him, you can't go on.  And he reminds you of the children.  But there is never a need to remind me.  I love those boys more than any darkness, more than any infinite hole, more than anything.  And my husband knowing me, knowing me so well says, "But you'll call me if, for a moment you forget."

"I've got to call my husband."

Sandra XXOO

(P.S. I'm fine for now - no need to worry)