I'm usually not effected by the winter. Of, course isn't tough to stay inside for months, but this year has been especially horrible.
Everyday I'm looking for a new way to distract me from my depression. Whether it's relatively harmless things like junk food and sleep, maybe Netflix shows over and over and over, or harmful things like alcohol or the urge to use smokeless tobacco (I've had a run-in with it before). Anything to help me forget that I'm stuck in this apartment that I've nicknamed the "box".
When Sara leaves for the day, my mornings are generally ok. When the sun is out, I listen to my records, and relax. But when noon rolls around, I find that I start thinking deeply about my situation and it scares the shit out of me. Writing, like what I'm doing now, helps a lot, but as soon as I finish the last sentence, I go back to my rocking chair and think about my health. It's the number one thing on my mind.
Days like today, I pray for a seizure because I know that most times after a seizure I feel tired and I go to sleep. I can finally relax. I've talked about interictal psychosis quite a bit on this blog, but I guess I can't reiterate it enough. The time between seizures for me is either a time when I'm in a great mood and I can celebrate the day, or it's a time when I can't even bring myself to lift a finger.
I've been talking to Sara about chores at home and the anxiety that builds inside of me. An example would be a sink full of dishes. I try to avoid the kitchen so I don't have to look at them. I use the same glass for days as to not make anymore dishes to wash. It could take days for me to finally get enough energy in my blood to fill the sink with water and spend the 15 minutes it takes to finally tackle them.
I can feel that right now, if I called Sara and heard her voice I would totally lose it on the phone. My eyes well up with tears and I curse myself for not being the man I wish to be. Even writing this now has got me a little emotional. I'm taking breaks while writing this to get the confidence to write the complete story.
Recently, I was asked to write an article to be published on an Epilepsy awareness website based in Europe. I wrote the article in a year-by-year format. I found that 2008-2011 was fairly easy for me to talk about, but 2012-today took days to write. When I cut my wrist in 2012, I remember laying on the floor of the bathroom with police surrounding me while I kept uttering to Sara that I was tired. I repeated it over and over. I'm sorry to say that those feelings haven't left me. I'm still just so tired even today... especially days like today.
I've been given tools be my psychologist and medications by my psychiatrist to help combat these feeling, and I use them everyday. What happened in 2012 will never happen again because I know how to recognize the warning signs, and ask for help. We were in the ER late last year because I told Sara that I was seeing some of these warning signs. It did very little. I was taken down off of one of my Epilepsy medications that causes aggression and anxiety when taken in large doses.
I don't think I even have the strength to post this message because of the possible fall out I may have with Sara, my family, and my doctors. Maybe writing this is just for me to get it written down. Again, I'm just so tired.
Monday, February 23, 2015
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