Like lima beans, only totally different

My depression has a way of sneaking up on me. I’m dysthymic like a mothereffer, so it really isn’t surprising to me that sometimes, I “wake up” and realize that whoa, things are kind of bleak at the moment. Lately, “waking up” has taken the form of pants that no longer fit comfortably (sadly, I’m not one of those people who stops eating when depression hits – I eat more, which makes me more depressed, which makes me eat even more), realizing that I no longer have the will or energy to deal with work, and for the past three days, cultivating my own garden of facial bacteria more commonly known as zits.

For the past two weeks, I’ve done just enough to get by at work. I’ve taken more sick time and flex time than normal, I sleep until afternoon on the weekends and stay in bed for as long as possible during the week. I feel the edges of my mind fraying and I’m wrestling for control just about every second. Right now, I would like nothing more than to just sleep for days and days and days, in a dark, cool room full of nothing but me.

When I was younger, I had absolutely no problem telling people how I felt. I’d be all, “Blahddy blah banana cakes!” and not really think much of it. I’d cry a lot, go through an entire box of tissues, and emote my way out of whatever situation I found myself in. These days, I don’t much like to talk about myself or how I’m feeling, mainly because I hate the sound of my thoughts while they’re in my head and I can only imagine how much I would hate them out loud or even in print, so I keep them to myself.

I wish there was an easy way for me to acknowledge the mind-numbingly astronomical range of thoughts I have throughout a given day. I go from being apathetic to compassionate to angry at the assailants to blaming the victims. I can’t really decide if I truly care about other people or if I only care about other people when I don’t feel like stabbing myself through the face with a tape dispenser.

I can’t stop believing in a number of things I would be better off forgetting ever existed or that I ever thought existed. Each day that passes, another layer is added to my face and I have to laugh because who am I kidding? This is the face of my reality, not my fantasy. I can give in, give up, or sell out and I don’t want to do any of those things. I want to force myself into the earth and fight my way back to another time when maybe life was easier: stay quiet, stay home, die.

But for now, this is how I’m feeling. Hollow and tired and a little like the setting sun.


Posted on November 10, 2006, in Adventures with Sparkle Pants, All about Sparkle Pants, Bullet In the Brain-Pan, Fat Pants. Bookmark the permalink. Comments Off on Like lima beans, only totally different.

  1. *hugs* I’m so sorry you’re sad friend. I know how it feels to be down in the dumps, but somehow I’m still not very good at cheering other people up. I think you’re a wonderful and caring person, and this world would be a sadder place without you in it.

    I wish I could be there to see you in person – I feel like maybe I could do a better job of comforting you. But please know that you mean a lot to a whole lot of people, and you are a beautiful and kind person.

    I love you, friend.

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