Feeling marginally better today. Actually did my pilates workout. Cats are not driving me quite so crazy. But now it's one and I don't have anything to do for the rest of the day. I know some people would think that's bliss, but I don't. The problem isn't that I can't think of things to do or things that need doing. It's that I can;t get motivated because none of them hold any...I want to say meaning, but that's not quite it. I want to say there's nothing I WANT to do but that just sounds like complaining about my lot; I mean, in adult life there's lots of things you have to do that you don;t want to do and I get that. I don't really want to do the dishes every day but that's part of my job and I do it.
No, what I mean is that nothing has a hook in me. Nothing really affects me. I don;t feel anything. I know I've said this before. But somehow it's easier to do something you really don't want to do--like doing the dishes or even my Pilates sometimes--than to do something that has no value (and I mean value as in colour, not as in worth) because at least you;re having a reaction to it. And you know if you do it and get it over with then you won;t feel such revulsion anymore.
But this flat grey place just seems to go on and on forever.
I've been thinking about drawing again sometimes. I have a pad of paper and oil pastels sitting on the coffee table staring at me every time I sit on the couch. But I feel fear of it. I don;t feel at all inspired to draw; I think about it in my head, not in my heart.
I think that's what bothers me most about where I;m at: everything is in my head and nothing is in my heart.
But anyway, some kind soul gave me advice for getting drawing, about just experimenting with colour. And that's part of the problem, really. I feel no colour. I feel grey and dead inside. If I were to pick up the pastels and the pad, I would just colour a whole page as grey as I could make it, I think. I wonder if I should do that.
I know there's something more than this. I stay in this grey place because it's safer in a way, than the place I was in last night. I don't want to hurt myself here.
But it's also...I feel it as being underneath the black place of self-harm, like a sinkhole in a mine. I feel that in order to get to a good place I haveto come up through the black place and that frightens me. What if it hurts? What if I don;t make it through?
I don;t trust in drugs to make my condition any better, really. I hear and read so many stories about people getting on antidepressants and their whole world changing and it's just not been like that for me. I go up and down and all around, but never really happpy, never satisfied, never in a place where I feel I can accomplish anything. Maybe my pdoc just hasn;t foudn the right combination of stuff, but I'm So tired of trying different things...it's been over a year now, almost 18 months I think, and I still don;t feel well. Well, every time he raises the level on one drug I feel great for about a month, but then I sink back as my brain chemistry adjusts.
And I don;t think it's my fault. I work so hard at this. I go to therapy. i cooperate. I do what I'm told and it doesn;t work.
I'm beginning to think nothing will work and I'll just be stuck here in this grey place forever.
So maybe I'm not better, maybe I'm worse. I don't know. I really don't know.