I saw life turn into a tv show
It Was Totally Weird
The person I knew
I didn't really know"
I'm sad today. Nothing has happened to make me sad, nothing recently anyway. I'm feeling the weight of loss. I have endured more loss in my 27 years than I ever would have imagined. Wrongful, gruesome, unnatural loss.
I've written about the loss of my father, so that is not new to this blog. The part I leave out is that... I'm an intelligent person here, and well, I think, or rather part of me thinks, he killed himself. Part of me thinks he got his affairs in order, saw that both his kids went to college, and then swerved head-on into a truck on the highway. My dad was sad, and he was lost. I could tell by our semi-drunken conversations we had the summer before he died. My favorite summer. My last summer as a girl who didn't know what this overwhelming loss felt like. This feeling that makes it hard to breathe when I think about it. This feeling of tears being ready and waiting to fall for my father at any given moment.
He was stuck, and he was alone-ish, but I know how alone he felt because I feel it too, even with people who love me surrounding me, I feel completely alone because not one of them understands me. The one who understood me died nearly 10 years ago. And I am still sad, and angry, and what seems like eternally depressed.
I guess what it comes down to is... well, I have lost my hope. I've lost all hope for good things in the future. I was ALWAYS a dreamer with big dreams for the future. And suddenly, I've lost that. I don't have big dreams. I don't have small dreams. I'm going through the motions of life without feeling alive. If you met me, you probably would never know it. I'm a wonderful actor. What people see on the outside of me is so very far from the dark emptiness inside of me. On the outside I can appear happy, cute, fun, and playful. And NORMAL! Sometimes I almost believe it myself... until I think about it. Then I remember.
I know I need to figure this out, to change it, but I'm almost at the point of not caring. Barely being a person is almost enough for me. If I don't have dreams, I will never be let down. I mean what the fuck?! I'm almost 28. Do you have any idea what I thought I would be doing with my life at 28? Not this. Astay-at-home-mom? are you kidding me?! I love my boy more than anything on Earth, but I had so much more to offer, or I thought I did at least.
And now I know how my dad felt before he drove into that truck. Don't worry, I'm not going to kill myself. Those ideas stopped after I had a child. I certainly wouldn't want to ruin my child's life like that. I know all too well how much it messes a person up to lose a parent too early. But I also feel like I want to be done, just done with all the trying. I'm tired. I'm so tired of trying, and I just don't see it ever getting any better for me.
I have a wonderful life, but it is not mine. I live on a beautiful lake. People pay thousands of dollars a week to rent vacation houses on my street. I have all the material possessions a person could want. I spend money like it's nothing, so we can have a boat and a jetski, and cute clothes, and well, I even bought myself some nice boobs a few years ago, and in this economy I should feel blessed to be able to spend so much money and not work right? I should be enjoying my life?
It has been sunny, and warm, and beautiful outside. We have a dock and boathouse basically in the front yard. But here's the thing... I don't leave the house.
So in about a week, I'll go tell all of this to my psychiatrist, and she'll add more meds on top of all the meds I'm already taking. I already know how it goes. I'll get back on the mood stabilizer, and the anti-depressant. I might even get an increase in Klonopin. It's probably about time after 8 years. I'll stay on the amphetamines to battle the ADD which contributes to the depression. I'll stay on the anti-anxiety medication which I swear doesn't work, but the other options are all habit-forming and I'm on enough habit-forming medications. I'll stay on my beta-blocker to take my blood pressure back to normal after the rest of that garbage puts it through the roof. And every time I see my psychiatrist, she'll size me up to see make sure I've been eating. I'll wear baggy clothes to hide the fact that I haven't been so much, she'll keep doling out prescriptions and I'll keep analyzing how well they are working, or not working, and life will go on. So is this what I have to look forward to? Taking 6+ drugs several times a day every day for the rest of my life just to attempt to make me function as a "normal" human being? And that's where I start thinking Fuck it. I'll never be happy, I might as well get used to being this sad zombie. Except it makes me a less than perfect mother, which kills me.
I would have to make a major life change to change this all, and I'm not ready, and I'm not stable enough, and I don't have enough support.
But I'm bi-polar, and tomorrow's another day. I'll Hope its a manic one because at least I feel like doing things when I'm manic.
This isn't quite what I meant to write about today, but "Ah, fuck it, I'm gonna have a party."
Yes, I'm completely crazy.
And sorry, for subjecting you to reading this self-analytic crap that probably should just stay in my head.
Don't worry about me, I seem completely fucking nuts today, but when I hit rock bottom and realize it is always when I reinvent myself, so maybe this is a good thing that I've realized I've gotten way too comfortable and cozied up with my depression. It's time to let it go, and that's what I hope to do with this post. Inner peace, here I come.
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