Sometimes I just don’t want to feel. I don’t want to feel good. I don’t want to feel bad. I just want to be numb. There’s always so much going on in my head that causes so many different emotions all at the same time. I just don’t want to deal. I just want to be.
Over the course of the last 5 years, my depression has progressively gotten worse. It has totally changed my life. I’ve been unable to keep a job for longer than a maximum of 6 months. I’ve been through 6 jobs. I’ve been in the mental hospital 3 times for a total of 18 days. I’ve been out of work probably longer than I’ve worked. I owe about $30,000 to credit card companies and $5,000 to hospitals. I just can’t seem to get my stuff together.
I’m a 333-year-old mother of 3, wife of almost 14 years, and I can’t get myself straightened out to live life.
People ask what I have to be depressed about. I have 3 wonderful, healthy children. A supportive husband. A totally awesome family and support system. I have a bachelor’s degree in nursing; I can work anywhere.
Well, you know what? That just makes it even worse. I know I have all the wonderful things going on. I know how wonderful my life should be. I know how great it looks from the outside, but I wouldn’t wish my life on my worst enemy.
The daily internal torture that I feel. The realization that I’m 33 years old and can’t get my life together hurts me daily. The fact that I’ve put my family in the situation where who knows how the bills are going to get paid or how we’re going to eat kills me.
Then, your great husband tries to tell you that it’s not just your fault that the family is in this situation. I’m just not buying that one. No. I didn’t ask to be this way, but in the end, this is me. I’m the one with a sickness that I can’t get a control of. I’m the one that has been through so many jobs that nobody wants to hire me. I’m the one that ran out credit cards up. It is my fault. I’m the one that has to pay $400 a month for crappy insurance, and then turn around and pay $300 a month for just one of my medications to make me functionable. Can’t you see? This is all my fault!
My girls have worked so hard playing softball. They eat, sleep, and live softball. We’ve reached a point that we can’t afford that anymore. It’s my fault that my girls’ passion is fixing to be taken away from them.
I totally get why there are so many mentally ill people that are homeless.
It’s hard to get out of bed most days. How am I suppose to hold a job down from my bed? No job equals no money. No money equals no mental help, no medications, no food, no home. All this negativity makes the depression even worse. It’s a vicious, never ending cycle. It’s a roller coaster that won’t stop no matter how much you want it to. It’s that nightmare that you can’t wake yourself from, but it’s not a nightmare. This is my life and so many other’s life.
I know that I can’t possibly be the only person out there going through this. I guess I want you to know that you’re not alone. I know how you’re hurting. I know how you feel. I get why you just want to not feel anything, good or bad. I understand. You’re not alone!