Now, I’m in trouble. But I’m getting help. The months long battle of baseline depression had at first dipped then slid then plummeted me into my own grave which I’ve wanted to cover myself in this past week. Last night I politely nodded to myself while the rivers ran blood down my cheeks that I ought to check myself into a hospital, I was ready to kill myself. But all the methods seem so very painful for one’s last moments and hospitals are very expensive so instead I told my boss (who is like a friend as well) that I needed to get help and was wondering if I could get time off, just for a bit, to do so.
She, being one of my biggest supporters it turns out, arranged immediately to set a plan with me for the rest of the week off (this was my idea to go back to work Monday after speaking with my doctor tomorrow and hopefully getting pumped full of antidepressants and rainbows) and she’s even got my back if I need a bit more time than that to get adjusted and ‘get help’. I told a couple people what was going on, and even my folks, which was the hardest for me to do. Everyone has of course been supportive though for whatever reason I feared the opposite, and obviously I’m alive enough to spit out a few words while I’m coping with the ‘help/healing’ process. I spent my day being distracted by things I haven’t much joy in anymore, and sleeping (which was great until a split second after I woke up and I remembered reality was a thing). The screwy nap schedule has me awake right now, but I don’t work tomorrow and I’m so goddamn down that I don’t much care. I haven’t showered in days, I’ve been hiding in the same clothes, my best friend had no idea I was so sad and struggling to this point, and I’m glad I could keep the face up I suppose.
I was reminded very seriously of Robin Williams this evening during my 2 hour sob in bed and at my computer watching cute animal videos and counting my blessings. I found this little picture online that summed up when I first started to stumble how very much I felt exactly the same:
I see in myself that goofy friend, colleague and family member putting others first and doing my best to be my best, but struggling so low that I just want to shed the emotional pain which has in fact turned into a very physical thing as well. Honestly it seems ridiculous to say, but there’s a comic that also has kept me from pulling that trigger (so to speak, no I do not own a firearm). Here it is:
My heart is broken, I can’t pinpoint one or two or three reasons why, I can just assure you it’s broken and it’s hurting me very badly. I’m not looking for an outcry of support, though I know at least my long term readers and blog family will be there with something nice to say, I just feel it’s important to me to get it out on paper. Or, screen paper. Whatever you’d like to call it.
I’ll survive…I guess. But I don’t much feel like I want to. I need saving for once, instead of doing all the saving, which I’m really very good at.