17 June 2020: Backslide

12:18 PM

I have 100 things to do sitting here on my desk, and I can’t focus, I can’t seem to get unstuck, and I feel like I’m suffocating.  I’m not exactly sure why…so maybe by pounding out a few thoughts it’ll come to the surface and get resolved so I can move on to take care of crap.  

I’m not even sure where to start.  There doesn’t seem to be any one thing in particular that is weighing me down, and yet I feel like I’m moving in slow motion…like there is a huge weight sitting on my chest making it next to impossible to breathe.  I feel exhausted, anxious, depressed, nervous, and really just plain shitty.  I wonder when the darkness will go away.  When will the light come back and when will I not be so fucked up?  

I feel like everything is falling apart.  Like my life is one hot mess and there’s nothing I can do about it.  Nothing has even happened, but it feels so big, so hard, and so incredibly difficult.  I just want to curl up in bed and stay there forever.  I don’t want to keep doing life.  I don’t want to keep waking up and living this same shit show day after day.  

I have tried so hard since being in the hospital to just make things okay.  To be okay.  To be the good soldier who was fixed because she got some sleep.  And I think back and it was easy to say that my problem was that I wasn’t sleeping.  That that was the sole cause of my distress and my problems.  That was easy.  Nothing else is easy.  

But today I have come to the very real realization that it runs so much deeper than just sleep.  And the scary and shitty part about everything is…I can’t exactly put my finger on what’s wrong.  

10:43 PM

ANDDDD…I’m back here in the office, after 10 PM, no real desire to go home…or sleep…or really do anything healthy.  I feel like if I leave the office now, I’ll end up getting drunk.  Because all I really want right now is to get super fucked up to the point where none of this stuff matters.  And yes, I know that in the long run, it won’t be helpful and that it’ll actually be a real shitty feeling and do a lot of damage…but there is this unreal pull and desire to just get shit faced drunk (which is a lot of beer…).

So here I am, working-ish, trying to distract myself.  And things feel exactly the same as they did pre-hospital.  I mean, I knew a hospital stay wouldn’t cure me, or fix things…but it’s discouraging to feel like I’m in exactly the same spot prior to the hospital stay just one week after discharge.  It’s like a fucking joke.  And it feels like things will never change.  No matter how hard I try to make things different…it’s always just a matter of time before the shit hits the fan.  And I’m not quite sure how to combat that.  I’m not sure how to make it different.  

I have been so focused this week on proving that fucking resident wrong.  That I was ready to discharge…that I’m not broken…that I don’t need medication to survive and thrive.  I’ve been trying so hard to be “normal”.  To be productive at work, to go to bed at a reasonable time, to hold my shit together.  And while I’ve been avoiding, and distracting, and putting on airs…somewhere along the way I lost sight that things actually are not okay.  It’s like you can paint stripes on a horse and call it a zebra…but that doesn’t actually make it a zebra.  And here I am…saying I’m good…saying I’m cured and healthy and moving forward…but just because I’m saying it doesn’t make it true.  No matter how desperately I want it to be.  

As I’ve been thinking about today and what possibly could have set the tone for the day day, I’ve traced it back to what I think is likely the source of the anxiety, depression, discomfort in my own skin…and I think it’s because I had sex last night.  And at the time it was okay…and I even slept through the night, okay I think…but I woke up exhausted, anxious, and in a terrible mood.  I know I’d been grinding my teeth because my jaw was sore…and that happens when I’m under a lot of stress.  

I don’t know if that’s it, but it’s really the only thing that I can think of (besides just being fundamentally damaged) that would be different and outside the norm of things this past week.  But I’m not sure which is more fucked up…just being inherently damaged, or being emotionally damaged in such a way that everyday things will never be normal ever again?  I feel like things will never get better and it will constantly be this struggle just to maintain.  What if I can never have normal feelings after sex?  What if I have to focus every day on just keeping my shit together?  What if I have to worry every night if I’ll be woken up by nightmares, panic, fear?  And what if after I try all of these things to fix myself…therapy, meds, meditation, structured sleep…and none of it works?  

I don’t know…but what I do know is that this life is fucking hard.  And I’ve been trying for so long and I wonder each and every day whether or not I’ll have enough fight in me to get through the day.  I wonder each and every day if today will be the day I finally just give up.  And it is exhausting not knowing…it’s exhausting trying to fight every day. 

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