Did you know that depression is when you recognize ?

So, truths:
P & B, and C et al, don't invite me over anymore.  C I can understand, I like her but I can never figure out what to say.

But B.

I know I'm not to B what I want to be. She has other friends with whom she has more in common.

Or, you know, people whose company she enjoys more.

I think she had a Christmas party and didn't invite me.  B is outgoing, kind and inclusive so when I think about that I get that roller coaster suck in my stomach.

Perhaps she didn't have one.

To other people, Mike, Frank, V, I'm the sometimes pitstop on the way home, after dinner and drinks with friends -- I can't do 11PM, 12PM, 1AM (my meds make me tired and I'm trying to sleep on a regular schedule) -- so it doesn't materialize. I don't want to anyway. Being the maybe-later or the I-am-not-doing-anything-anyway?

I'd like to be someone's first choice.

With other friends, contact is either sporadic or I have overshared about bipolar and depression to the point where it feels like I just keep making the same excuses over and over.
With Deb and Sam things are sporadic, but easy. I've not yet made to them the desperate, shameful, manipulative appeal: "I'm sorry i haven't been in contact. I've been struggling, Christmas was awful, but it feels like I'm gaining control. It's getting better. The dips are not so low anymore. It's on the up and up, I feel like a normal person."

Do you remember how great the distance is to other human beings?

You can't make another love you or like you or want your company first. I've had that at times, I was luckier than I realized.

Untimely, changing things is too exhausting. A onetime effort, a painstakingly prepared afternoon tea with friends talking about books, well, it's not enough, you have to keep at it. You have to maintain your friendships or they die. Let's face it, I'm not an Energizer funny.
I'm not even a Store Brand Battery Bunny.

And work, well.

I haven't put in an eight hour day this year. I've done a few 12 hours, but they have generally been unproductive. I get distracted and go down the associative path so far it makes the work meaningless, often I have had to discard it and start over.

I presume my employer will figure this out at some point. I'm not delivering. How long can it go on?

And my docs, JW & RR, what can they do, truly? They're not there making me get out of bed. No one is, no one can do that for me. It's a financial arrangement. And it feels like _I'm making it up_. This feeling sick and tired and endlessly hopeless, I make it up as an excuse for all the stuff I don't get around to doing.
You think I'm feeling sorry for myself.

This is my life: I live with my cats. I try hard to take my meds, use the CPAP, get to sleep and get up the same time every day. I go to a coffee shop some days and sit there for hours knitting or reading. I rarely get in to work, sometimes more then once a week, sometimes not at all. I do some work most days. Sometimes that work consists of reading and replying to emails. I don't hang out with anyone, I rarely have plans for the weekend, and if I do I rarely follow through. I text with people some days. I call my mom, my dad and my brother each once a week. I read my Facebook feed and I Like stuff, comment and rant.

I don't feel lonely, this is just the way it is. I have conversations in my head with imaginary people. I talk to Kanye West a lot (who knows why) and to Frank.

When I get anxious, about work or unpaid bills or auto renewing memberships to websites or Patricia (a story for another day), or taxes, I crawl under the blankets and watch season after season of some insipid TV show.
Or I shop for some project I'll never do, I might not buy the stuff, sometimes I only do because I'm desparate to get out of the trance, but I keep at it and at it, looking for the best alternative at the lowest price.

My cat is sick. She's so... I should take her to the vet, but I feel so guilty about all the money I've spent and the work I'll miss (which I'll probably miss anyway). So, I cry in her fur and hope that she'll forgive me for making her sick.
And you know, I can't say to myself, tonight I'll watch a movie and pet the cats and drink coffee and take it easy because I owe that time to all the things I have neglected.

It's my responsibility to eat, to sleep, to take my meds, to ask for help, to work, to make it to my doctor's appointments, to exercise, to stay in touch...

.. And this, this _state_, I caused that.

I have moments, sometimes weeks of vitality, of contentment, but they're not different, I'm still what I am to my friends and I don't get any work done and I don't pay my bills and I watch TV all the time, I just don't feel so bad about it.
And I'm hopeful, it _seems_ like I can change. And that makes it worse when I realize -- again -- that I haven't.

Evil Albino

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