I feel like I'm in water, and I'm trying to walk upstream. Every tiny movement takes planned effort, I can't even type very fast. It's hard to think. DH is making my dinner as I write. He's making Progresso tomato basil soup and grilled cheese; comfort food. I feel numb. I am having a hard time connecting to other humans mentally. I feel as if my world is shades of gray emotions, and at the center there's a black hole.
My Journey With:
Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome (hEDS) ~ Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS) ~ Focal Impaired Awareness (Complex Partial) Seizures ~ Fibromyalgia ~ Chronic Myofascial Pain (CMP) ~ Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) ~ TMJ Dysfunction ~ Bipolar Disorder Type I Rapid Cycling ~ Migraines ~ Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease (GERD) ~ Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) ~ Keratosis Pilaris (KP) ~ Complex-Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD) ~ Panic Disorder ~ Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) ~ Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD) ~ Nonsuicidal Self-Injury (Self-Harm) ~ Piezogenic Pedal Papules ~ Hashimoto's Thyroiditis ~ Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) ~ Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) ~ Specific Phobias ~ Chronic Headaches
Thursday, September 22, 2016
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
The only person I know I can depend on is DH, yet he's been going through so much stress lately that I don't really have the option of spilling my heart and mind, and all the madness inside, to anyone. I'm an excellent actress, most people will have no idea I'm depressed if I don't tell them. A pdoc (psychiatrist) can't even read me when I don't want them to. I don't think I've ever met anyone who can tell when I'm depressed when I'm trying to hide it. Not even DH or my mother can tell if I'm trying to hide my depression.
I wish the terrible thoughts always running through my mind would go away. I wish I wasn't either angry, numb, or depressed all the time. I wish mental illness was something people had no problem talking about, without becoming the "other" for talking about my experiences. I wish the shame I feel would stop. I feel like I have to put on a show for the world, then quietly wipe my eyes before anyone enters the room, or softly cry myself to sleep again. I wish people noticed Amy's not doing good. I wish there was a way I could find help that didn't mean start a medicine, wait a month, see if it's made a difference,
I'm not suicidal, but I do often wish I could go to sleep and never wake up. I often wish I could just cease to exist. I feel guilty because I have DH and that means I shouldn't want to cease to exist, and I hate myself for it. Shouldn't I be satisfied? I'm with the love of my life but all I can think about is ceasing to exist. What kind of horrible person am I? This bipolar beast inside of me that hungers for causing me pain, constantly rages at me, telling me I don't deserve love, or nice things, because I'm a worthless human being who only steals oxygen that could be used to give a more deserving person that air to breathe.
I feel rambling, lost, and my soul aches. I feel like I'm experiencing my childhood nightmare that I had all the way into my early 20s. I'm stuck, surrounded by fire on all sides. There's nowhere to run, nothing to do except accept the pain coming to you. You're going to burn alive, and there's no way out of the mind. Insanity envelopes me, reaching it's tendrils into me, burning, constantly burning.