And the walls kept tumbling down….

yesterday i had to ask my best friend to walk me to the chemist.                            

it’s two streets away, but i just couldn’t do it on my own.

my friend is wonderful, but i still felt pathetic. 
today i had to get some blood tests. just routine tests that i have done regularly. 

but, it felt like an impossible feat.

i took a double dose of diazepam & was still overwhelmed.

i began to cry when the nurse was taking blood 

i found i could not stop 

and, so spent a humiliating half hour trapped in waiting room toilet,

desperate not to share my fragile state with strangers. 

now, i am home. Hating myself for all the things that i haven’t done. 

from housework to commissions. 

i don’t want to be back here,

frozen in panic

gobbling pills to survive another day.

i thought I was closing the book on blood

&

stitches

&

shame. 

not so. 

here i am once again mired in it.

even more frightening this time as i have more to lose.

and

because it’s a brutal reminder that there is no cure

this illness can crush me at anytime 

control is an illusion. 

what the hell am i doing here ?…..

therapy was another cry fest.
i have been struggling recently
and
as soon as I sat down in that room, it all came tumbling out

i am so frustrated with my current situation
my slide back into deep depression is soul destroying
and
incomprehensible.
why am I back here when I was making such progress?

nothing has changed.
all the recovery boxes were getting ticked
until it all started to fall apart again.

it’s such a cruel illness
there is no explanation for the sudden blackness crowding my head
i am trying so hard to fight it
but
every tiny little step is exhaustingly hard
it’s so difficult to believe I will ever emerge from the darkness

my psychologist believes that part of my problem is my inability to give myself credit
i do not feel that I should be congratulated for washing & dressing
having tea with a friend does not strike me as deserving of applause.
i struggle to connect with my compassionate mind.

i am critical
i consider myself pathetic for all the things I cannot do

guilt is another struggle
i don’t believe that I am allowed to have happy moments
it seems to me that if I can feel good for a short period of time,
i should be able to make myself ok
all of the time.

the only thing I see worth in
is my voluntary work
i have been donating some time to a children’s & youth initiative
engaging in an activity that is not about me feels good
however, my decline has interfered with this
overcoming me fear & anxiety to even manage the journey has become increasingly difficult
the pressure of Interacting with the other group leaders crushes me
hence, I am able to attend less
and
i am robbed of the one thing that allows me to consider myself a worthwhile member of society.

the battle goes on
i am cutting, but much less frequently
i feel i still have a modicum of control.
forcing myself to see friends & family continues to be a focus,
engaging in voluntary work has become a priority,
i have also begun a new anxiety med until I can see my psychiatrist.

i refuse to give in
with increasing frequency,
i want to.