For the first time in a couple weeks, I was alone in my house today on a non-work day. Most of the time, I relish these days. I am a person that needs time to myself. It’s nice to be able to do whatever I want to do.
But today I just fell apart. I went from feeling pretty good and relaxed to feeling utterly empty. Drained. Monsieur suggested lots of things to help me—getting out of the house, going someplace new, taking my meds, masturbating, writing, getting food from someplace I don’t go often. I didn’t want to do any of it. I didn’t want to feel better. I didn’t want to feel anything. I just wanted to wallow in my empty numbness.
Now, I have been here often enough to know that this is the depression talking. Don’t get up. Don’t shower. Don’t try to feel better. Just stay here where there’s nothing. So I did at least take my meds. I ate. I masturbated a little. But it’s hard to try to feel things. Every little thing feels like a major exertion.
I hate how I can go from feeling fine to being like this. But I suspect that I’m never really fine; I’m just busy. I just move from work stuff to kid stuff to boyfriend stuff, and as long as I keep moving, I don’t feel the numbness. Until I don’t have that stuff, and the numbness hits me like a tsunami.
Sometimes I really feel like I’m getting better. My sex drive starts to come back. I don’t feel as worn out by every little thing. But it’s a process. Two steps forward, three steps back.
I should have seen this current collapse coming though. My office is a disaster. I haven’t been tracking my habits at all, or really writing anything in my agenda, or even turning the page to a new week. I have felt increasingly lonely while also wanting to be alone more. I have stopped wanting to really engage on any disagreements. I just want to acquiesce and move on, because nothing matters enough to argue. The collapse was already here, but I’ve gotten pretty good at keeping myself functional through it. It’s harder to notice, as long as I keep moving.
Maybe…maybe I’m just not good at being happy. I can do it, but I can’t sustain it. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s just not for me. But I used to be more functional. I used to have more of myself to give. I want to know where that went. I don’t even want to be one of the Happy People. I just want to not feel worn out all the time.
Ugh. Even writing all of this feels stupid, because I felt fine yesterday. Maybe I’ll feel fine tomorrow. Maybe I just have to keep moving.
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