Elavator Going Down: Headed toward the bottom

I just came home from breakfast with my son. My children and one friend are the only people I really see socially. That's all the energy and time I have for being with other people. I know studies show people do better, live longer if they belong to a group. It's just not something I can possibly do. Even my extended family, the people I love very dearly are usually too much for me. It's not their fault. It's not mine. I stay in touch; I try, but it's too hard.

Now, I know I am heading for a period of depression, a lack of energy, and the need for more sleep. Knowing it will stop sometime helps me cope with it. It will be a challenge not to feel sorry for myself. I'd rather not be this way. It reminds me forcefully of all the things I cannot do that I still wish I could. I try practicing acceptance of the way things are. It's still not easy for me.

At times like this I withdraw. I don't want anyone to know. I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me or mourn, as I do, for my lost potential. I feel close to tears, but I cannot cry. I fear if I start, I'll never stop.

The hours spent with my son were so good. He had no idea how I was feeling. I am a great pretending. But, it was more than time to go home. I barely had the strength to walk home. I couldn't smile back at the people who smiled at me. I wanted to, but I just couldn't. Because I have spent so many years like this without relief, my face is drawn into a perpetual frown. I practice smiling, but often it looks more like a grimace. My face tells a subtle story about my life.

I take an antidepresant. It is working very well. I haven't been suicidal for quite awhile. I am grateful I don't have to put body and soul into fighting that urge anymore.

A few times I confided in someone the fact I couldn't understand why my life had to be so hard. I used to wonder what I had done to deserve this. There was a time people thought I had made such seriously wrong choices I deserved to pay for them. I know it's not true. The same person told me "everyone has problems." But, I know one person's hangnail seems like another person's broken leg. I am absolutely sure her challenges don't compare to mine. It isn't her fault she doesn't understand. How could anyone really know about another person's pain and loss unless they too have experienced it.

I am going to get my pajamas on and go to bed. It is four o'clock in the afternoon and I am exhausted to the bone. I wouldn't have missed that time with my son for all the money in the world. Truly. I summon up the gratitude to be thankful I didn't have to cancel, for the will to go and do with him despite how I feel. However, my will is all used up now. And I am helpless against what is happening to me.

Tomorrow my sister and I are supposed to go to the grocery store. I am out of most things, but I want to cancel. I wish I had the courage to ask her to pick up my prescription. I don't want her to worry. I don't want her to feel sorry for me. Maybe tomorrow, if I sleep long enough, I'll have enough strength to do something. I recall, as I have so many times, the words of Scarlet O'Hara - "Tommorah is anothah day." It has become my mantra.