Just Like Living in Paradise

I get frustrated with myself for letting this turn into an infrequent depression blog, but I need an outlet and I never seem to have the motivation to write at any other time at the moment. I may well disconnect Nevermore from my facebook account, because I know that I’m more timid than I used to be owing to the fact that so much of my audience comes from people I have to look in the eye these days.

Anyway, the reason I’m saying this is because tonight is looking like a Bad Night. In fact, I’ve started doing regular PHQ9 and GAD7 tests in the last couple of months, and my scores from this evening confirm that it’s been a bad fortnight as a whole as far as my brain is concerned. I get this a lot – euphoric feelings crossed with depression symptoms leaving me happy and smiling when I’m actually at breaking point. And tonight I’ve crashed. That voice is whispering in my ear, trying to tell me that my whole life is pointless, despite my protestations that I’m clearly achieving something (and I’d achieve it a damn sight more quickly if you’d just shut the fuck up).

The thing is, I am alone right now. Or, in many respects, I may as well be. I live with my mum for reasons discussed in previous posts, but I genuinely can’t talk to her about a lot of my psychological shit. (Or shouldn’t, though I do have my moments of weakness.) In an nutshell this is because a lot of my problems boil down to things from my teenage home life, and she’s damaged by this stuff as well because culprit A is my dad. So any discussion about my problems tends to turn into a depressed monologue from her. This isn’t helpful to either of us. So when it’s 2 a.m. and I feel completely unloved and unlovable, I have nowhere to turn to but here – where I can cry in the dark and not feel like I’m imposing myself on someone. If somebody reads it, that’s a bonus. If somebody even gives a shit, that’s a bigger bonus. At least I have the satisfaction of getting the words out in a place where nobody has to listen if they don’t want to.

So here goes, and forgive me for babbling: I feel paralysed. There are things I need to do, and things I want to do, and I’m too fucked up to just prioritise them and get on with it. I feel agitated and restless, but I can’t bring myself to actually do anything because if it’s too important I can’t bear the sense of responsibility and if it’s too trivial I keep thinking about all the important things I need to do. I need to fucking SLEEP and get my life in order because my whole day goes to buggery if I’m tired, but here I am tired but too scared of not sleeping to be able to sleep. And to put the top bloody hat on it, I’m having trouble believing that any of the people I deal with on a day-to-day basis at the moment would give a flying fuck if I died tomorrow.

There. It’s done. I think I’m going to finish writing one of those songs I’m still working on and bollocks to it if I’m a zombie tomorrow.

~ by Scary Rob on 22 April, 2013.

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