I keep hoping that I will magically get better. I want to go back to my job. I want to be able to leave and do as I want. It isn’t happening. I go to group therapy, it doesn’t help. I have a chemical imbalance and the therapist running it doesn’t believe in that kind of anxiety. The group is more aimed at people who need to come to turns with their situation and to figure out why they are having this issue. A lot of people when they talk about their life it is clear why they have anxiety or depression. I keep getting told I am helping others in the group and they tell the personal therapist that I help them in group. Where is my help? I keep going just to get out of the house at least once a week. I want to help others and let them know that we need to demand a safe space always. Not to be ashamed or feel bad about it. That we are not burdens to our loved ones. But I want help too. I want to be me again.
I hate the weight I put on from my medication and depression. I work out every day and still I gain weight. I try to eat healthy (tons of fresh fruit and veggies) but some days I give in and just eat nothing but icecream all day to fill that horrible void. Eating healthy and working out doesn’t make me lose any weight to the point where my dr is now keeping track of my weight because I am that concerned. A healthy body would lose weight not gain. So after a few weeks of staying the same weight or gaining and being healthy I give into the depression that screams for icecream.
I am sparkly, strong, whimsical and determined. But now I am just determined to get better. The sparkle and shine are gone. My ambition is gone. I work out in the desperate attempt that it will help me feel better. It does not but at least it will keep me from becoming a blob of a person. I try so hard and fight for what I deserve and to be me again. I know you have to feel the lows before you taste the highs, but I know what low feels like. It isn’t my first rodeo. I just have never had it for this long.
I keep being told I am strong. I am just determined. I long to be free from my prison my brain has created. I feel like the unicorn in ‘The last unicorn’. Some days I am trapped in mommy Fortuna ‘s cage, others I can feel this body dying all around me, and the scariest is when I don’t care. I forget and am just too exhausted to fight or care to. Just a shell of a person with nothing of the real me inside.