The Journey of a Survivor

At least, at the moment, I am not whacked out delusional. It does seem like every time I fall into a depression, it gets worse. I get a little bit crazier each time. That is a good reason to do everything I can to stay out of the depression. I am doing everything I can possibly do to get better–therapy, shrink, meds, reaching out, journaling, volunteering, being there for others in my support group…I still feel like I have a wet blanket over my life. I don’t feel happy or joyful…I have very few good feelings. Eating is about the only thing that seems to be pleasurable. Life seems like a task I have to get done. I keep pushing myself and keep doing things, but in some ways none of it really seems to matter. I print because it occupies my mind, I can’t say it really feels good. It just feels better to print than to sit around doing nothing. There was a time, I really did enjoy printing. Now, I am not so sure. I keep turning the radio on because I know I should like music, but really, it does not matter. It is just noise–none of the music makes me feel good. Sometimes it is difficult to be with you because I have to talk–I have to interact with you. I really have to push myself to do that. It is not because I don’t love you. It is because my world is this gray nothingness. I know I should be having feelings when I am with you, but they just are not there. It is like there is this big void inside of me. Sunday night I thought about your health and what if I lost you. I would be devastated. I don’t know if I could survive or not. You anchor me to reality. You keep me trying to get better. If it was not for you, I don’t know that I would still be here in Columbus. I might have given up by now. I want to get better because I know what it is like to feel that joyful love I have for you. I want to feel that, but it seems buried inside of me. It is difficult to know you love somebody, but to not be able to really feel it. All this frustrates me. I think part of the not feeling is the meds. The meds keep me sane, but they also flatten out all my emotions. Things just don’t matter. It is weird to not be real depressed, but to not really care about anything. Of course, I am just talking about feelings. My mind goes a million miles an hour. Sometimes, it is like a runaway train. I can’t sit and watch a movie because I can’t turn off my brain. I can’t lie next to you and relax because my thoughts just churn inside of my head. Even sleep does not stop my brain–my sleep is filled with dreams and often nightmares. That is where the printing is so useful–it requires me to focus enough that it distracts me from my thoughts. Printing may not feel real good, but it is an escape from the constant bombardment of thoughts. It does not matter if I produce any art. What matters is that it gives me a break. That is why I sometimes just have to take a night and print. I have to shut off my brain. I just don’t give a shit about life. I am not suicidal, but it does not really matter to me if I live to see tomorrow. I don’t know if there is an answer to all this. I know I don’t want to spend the rest of my life like this. I just can’t imagine what else I could possibly do to make it better. I guess I will just keep doing what I am doing…just keep getting up every morning and trying to make things better. Surely this can’t last forever.