Wednesday, November 28, 2007

continuing... this depressed state. I had hoped that once I got off teh anti-depressant I was on I wouldn;t have to try another one but it looks like I may have to. Everything just seems too hard. Getting up is hard. Getting dressed is hard. here it is noon and I'm still in my jammies, not wanting to do anything at all but go back to bed.

Major Suckage.

I don;t know if I should write this here because I really don;t know if I want potentially the entire internet world to know about it, but I have no where else to put it and it keeps circling in my mind and I need to get it out. My therapist yesterday told me I was showing "increased suicidal ideation." I don;t know if I agree with her. Partly because the idea of my own death has been with me for so long that it seems...almost boring to me. That doesn't scare me. When I lie in bed thinking about what it would be like to bring it about, what upsets me is not that I;m thinking that, but the thought that no one would be there to stop it. I could just wait 'til my husband was asleep and I was awake, for example, and cut my veins in the bathtub and no one would notice until the next morning. And that's a grief to me--the loneliness of that thought. The loneliness of being with any of these thoughts and not having any way to get out from under them. It's a great pain to me: one of the only pains I feel, actually, because most other thing are just flat. And maybe I cling to the idea because of that: because it's something I can feel. I think about suicide, sure. (And in my mind I think, "doesn't everyone?") But it's a distant thought, like a sweater you keep in the back of the closet because it's too ugly to wear in public but you can;t get rid of it because it's really comforting to have it there somehow. Maybe it's fuzzy, or maybe someone you value gave it to you, I don;t know. Maybe you wear it around the house, but you wouldn;t take it out and display it.

I don;t even feel like my suicidal thoughts are really suicidal thoughts. Just sitting around, thinking of death, as Moaning Myrtle might say. But I don't think I would ever DO anything about it. I know it would upset people and I really don;t want to do that. And mostly, I don;t really want to die, I just want not to be. I don't know exactly how that would come about. Maybe I'm accomplishing that now, but not getting up and getting dressed; by not being excited about the day. Is that a choice or something I have no choice over? Some philosophies would have it one way, some the other. I think, if there is no meaning in my life pretending will not make things have meaning. "fake it 'til you make it" is a big lie. A big lie that puts still more pressure to accomplish on people who don't need that.

The kittens are being holy terrors today.

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