But March isn't really far behind, in my book. Both months have been difficult for me for the past nine years. They're the anniversaries of my last nervous breakdown, which, for the most part I have put behind me, (except when the anniversary comes about) round, and round...
Ugh.
Nine years ago, my life unravelled. I was in New York, alone, dealing with a dubious relationship. My dad was dying, I'd just lost my job, mom was refusing to let me come down to Florida, I'd lost my disability and my apartment was a disaster.
On April 23, 2004 I wound up going into the hospital, on the the Fifth floor locked ward(the irony of that being that there was a movie of the same name made in the '70s)-
Look-http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Abum4viDlaI
My experience was only slightly better. :P
Amazingly, I can laugh about that now.
On April 27th, 2004, my dad passed. I wasn't allowed out of the hospital for the funeral. Nine years later, around this time every year, the guilt comes back full force. Even though I know he understood. Even though I went to his memorial service a few months later, when we buried his ashes. I never really got to say goodbye, and I needed to. I suppose I'll always feel badly about that until I get to see him again, and apologize in person. If I'll even get that chance, doubtful, with the type of fath crisis I'm having now.
I've been told God doesn't give up on anyone. More credit to Him then, I feel like I'm a lost cause, and I'm just waiting for Him to realize the same thing.
Bottom line, living with major depression is a bitch. I hate talking about it, I hate feeling like this, I hate everything about my life right now.
The only thing that's changed in the past nine years is that I may just have better tools to deal with it.
-I use my sarcasm to make fun of myself.
-I don't lash out and alienate people as much as used to
-I basically retreat from everyone, rather than cling on to people as much as I used to(for the most part anyway)
-I channel the bulk of my crap feelings into writing, or going for a walk, or singing at the top of my lungs, or actually, managing to distract myself from the garbage for a while.
-I remind myself that I have the most awesome social media (and real) friends ever, most of whom I don't deserve, and two that I will never understand why they stick around, but they do.
And all this is good, I understand that. But the thing is, that I'm alone most of the time. I've been trying to remedy that for the past six months, and everything I've tried, has fallen through. For the next six weeks, I don't know if I have the energy to try to do anything at all.
The other thing is that my year is rapidly developing into a series of doctor and dentist appointments, trying to get my sugar stabilized, trying to get my teeth fixed, trying to get my eczema under control.
Most of the time I want to stay in bed. I'm longing for warmer weather, because then I'll be out more, walking, and feeling better. I know once my teeth are fixed, and I get on the right dosage of diabetes meds, and everything else, I'll continue to feel better.
But there are times, especially during these next six weeks when I just want to find someone, anyone, lay my head their shoulder and cry until I can't anymore, while they hug me as tightly as they can.
I know this will pass. It's the waiting that kills me.
Thanks for listening.
