Yay.

I have nothing profound to say, but I feel like I need to write. Sort my thoughts and get something out there. This may be a rambling mess - just a warning.

I'm not sure when the last time I wrote was and, quite frankly, I'm too lazy to look right now. Monday I think. It's been a long week. A rough week. I've had a very difficult time mood wise. I think it's safe to say the depression is back. Full force. So much so that M suggested hospitalization on Tuesday (more to nip it in the bud rather than letting it get worse). I didn't go, and I'm not going. I'm seeing Dr. C on Monday so we can figure something out.

But I feel like crap. I broke down crying 3 times at work on Wednesday. Thursday was a little better, but I avoided everyone at work as much as possible. My first half hour with Chance yesterday was crying - the rest of the day was a little better but I filled it with sewing and nothing else.

Today . . . I'm withdrawn. I'm flat. I want to hide in the office. I don't think I'll cry today . . . but I really don't want to exist. If I'm doing something (like teaching the discharge class), I can ignore for a bit how I feel. When I have to interact with people, I can put on a believable enough facade (though it falters - and it's obvious I'm more withdrawn). But when I'm not doing something where I'm actively engaged . . .

I'm so hollow and empty. There's nothing there. Nothing. I don't want to be anywhere. I don't really feel. Well, frustration, anger, sorrow, emptiness, lonliness . . . those emotions I can feel. I'm so done with this. I'm so tired of this. Why can't I get better? Why can't I be stable? I do everything right. I'm the picture perfect patient. . . it's not fair. And no, life isn't fair.

I'm tired of struggling through the day. Anything I can do to make it through. Because at night, I can sleep. When I sleep I don't have to deal with the pain and emptiness. If I can make it through the day, I can sleep. What a way to live. If I could just go to sleep and wake up when this was all over. . .

I don't know what to do anymore. I want to be strong and brave and fight the depression. But I don't see things getting better. I see me being like this for the rest of my life, which makes me think, why bother? Why spend so much energy when nothing is going to change? That fatalistic thinking isn't healthy nor helpful. But it's not something I can really control. It's there, and it's how I feel.

I'm so frustrated and tired and braindead. Recovery seems like a hopeless endevour. I want to give up. It's too hard. And if I didn't have my hubby and my son, I probably would.