Bleak. Discouraged.

Monday, October 5

Bleak.  Very discouraged.  Got up to shit. To tired to make tea.  Went back to bed, but totally unable to think of anything that would make me feel better.

Enjoying my life is not important.  Doing something meaningful or worthwhile is.

I see that what makes the biggest difference in how I feel — and how I can function — is whether there are people around or if I’m alone.  For a long time that didn’t make a difference in my life, I was in denial of my feelings of abandonment.

A friend called and tried to cheer me up.  Mistake.  Maybe I shouldn’t have answered.  I told her about Barbara not calling me back, but she didn’t get it, said I should have called Barbara again.  She could be right, but I needed someone to understand that I just couldn’t do it, that I was badly triggered by calling for help and getting no answer.  Too much like what happened to me as a baby.

I think that’s what’s being hardest and most discouraging is that I get cheered up, inspired, by a good conversation or a good book, and I have good energy for a day or two, but then I collapse immediately if there isn’t moral support to sustain it.  I don’t see what I can do about it, and that makes me feel hopeless and helpless, I get triggered into the state of an infant who is truly helpless.

I really don’t know what to do.  Lying in bed this morning, trying to find something that would hold me, I couldn’t think of anything — no poem, no prayer, no sense of God or Jesus.  I did have Fire & Rain in my head:  “Been walkin’ my mind through an easy time, my back turned toward the sun, doncha know when the cold wind blows it’ll turn your head around…”

Occasionally it hits me that I very selfishly want to stop being unhappy — there are so many people out there in the world who are having a much harder time.  Sometimes, thinking about them makes me realize that I’m not alone, I’m part of a huge group of people.  I think that the ones struggling with depression know exactly how I feel.

Of course the other thing that’s weighing on me is the question of how to find the senior housing that will be right for me.  It’s getting too hard just to get through the day, not to mention those extra chores that have to do with maintaining a house and car.  I looked at Kendal, which is in some ways ideal, but I’m not sure how easily I could find friends.  The idea of spending time researching places scares me.  Disappointments, like Cobb Hill, set me back.  Cobb Hill is an eco-community, which appeals to me, but all I can do is buy a small house, and I need a place that offers regular meals as well as community housing.  I desperately need a refuge now, not two years or more in the future.

I lost my TWLOHA bracelet, I can’t imagine where.  The only times I take it off are to shower and for massage.  At first I missed it badly, it connected me with a population struggling with depression and self-injury (nicer word than self-mutilation).  Now it’s faded into the greyness along with everything else.

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