2013-08-12

I don't feel so good

I don't know how long it's been going downhill. In retrospect everything's a sign. The last few weeks it's gotten much worse. Perhaps, the inner dialogue, the oversleeping, the apathy at work should have been signposts to the black swirly place, but it just didn't seem so bad. The sadness was uncomfortable, like a mild itch, and it went away.

I thought I was doing so well. I had great personal interactions. I engaged with people, had great conversations. I talked to strangers, was invited to dinner by my neighbors. I had a house warming party.

It didn't feel like hypo mania. It felt normal. It felt good. I overspent during the move; I got anxious about that, but I sorted it out.

Maybe I should have paid more attention to the inner monologues, the day dreaming that started as soon as I was alone. Ranting in one's head is never good, especially repeating the same sentence over and over.

I had some migraines too. Is migraines a symptom of depression? Since depression is biological it could be possible, I suppose. Perhaps migraines just speed up the decline. Pain is not a positive happy thing.

I always get sloppy with my meds when things get hard. Every time it happens it seems so innocent, like I an allowing myself some latitude.

Then there has been drinking. Not a lot, a little every day, a glass of wine, a beer, a little more when with friends. As if I am normal and can have a normal relationship with alcohol and a cocktail when I come home from work. Alcohol messes with my mood. I know that, everyone knows that.

When I start feeling bad it's not helpful that I contributed. It's worse that part of it  is my own fault. My culpability increases with every internal inventory -- there are a lot of those -- and the depression becomes the punishment for my stupid decisions. Not helpful at all. 

Then I got all hostile during a meeting at work. Snarky, sarcastic, disruptive. It felt good too. The other day I went to the pharmacy and when the pharmacist told me she'd have to order my meds, that they'd arrive on Monday. she wondered, "was that Ok?" I got irritated , it wasn't like she was going to personally go fetch my meds if it wasn't Ok. Don't make a choice out of no choice, it's stupid. 

Not a good sign, that irritable rudeness, that assertive superiority thing that creeps in when my self confidence is wearing down.

Last week I couldn't go to work. I told my boss I'd take a few days PTO to get myself sorted. But I didn't get sorted.

And then Frank contacted me out of the blue. I think it's not good, ungood, even, when the thing that you've been hoping for, makes you bawl, convulsively in despair, rather than, say, happiness.

That message unraveled me into a tangled mess of yarn. *That* tangled mess of yarn I was when he was in my life. It was like no time had passed. I sent him anguished messages, and then deleted them thinking that if I deleted them before he read them he wouldn't see them. But alas, Facebook has no takesy-backsy, even though I can't see those messages anymore he did.

When I realized he'd read them all and knew how his message had tied me in knots, I was embarrassed. I had tried to play cool and had not just failed but gone all looney tunes. 

What!'s worse, and what set it off in the first place, was his silence. He knew that I was getting tangled up and didn't respond with reassurance, outrage, bafflement, or even that sort of angry rejection of responsibility that he does with i get emotional. It might have worked, at least given me a chance to explain myself.

Instead I told him I am freaking out. That there is no "taking it as it comes", that he'd have to figure out what he wants from me and convince me I should accept him back into my life.

It wasn't meant as a challenge, not exactly; not quite like a cover charge to Kagero's Club. He said he was definitely not interested in paying it though; my party is not that cool. He also told me I am crazy.

I love him, he doesn't love me. It's Ok, I just can't deal with it. I can't have him in my life.

It's a good thing. Pulling out before going nuclear is good. It just didn't help. I am still crying, and crying and crying. Because I lost him again, because everything is so heavy, because life is so meaningless. Because of the sad inevitability of it all, because I was on the slippery slope and tripped over Frank and fell into the black swirly thing.

I called my doc. I am seeing him tomorrow.

And now it's a day later. I got out of bed, I took my meds, I went to the doctor and completely broke down when he said it was clear I had very deep feelings for Frank. He said I couldn't understand
 how people have passionate love affairs and remain friends afterwards. He also increased my dose of Lamotrigin.

I am on my way to work. I won't feel anything while I code. It's all consuming. 

It'll pass. It's supposed to pass.  I am going to untangle myself and roll myself into a neat ball of yarn again.

1 comment:

  1. For what it's worth, we are here, Kagero: listening, feeling, wishing we could help you. You are not alone!

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