Is it time to call it quits? When do you know? What are the signs? I haven’t turned to my journal this week, which is quite unusual for me. I use my journal to clear my mind of clutter, figure out what I’m feeling, and to document my experiences. But I am afraid of my journal. I am afraid of my thoughts. I don’t want to know what I’m thinking and feeling. I’m trying to outrun my feelings, not bring them into the light.

It’s not that I am succumbing to and relinquishing myself to this depression. I’m doing what I can to fight it. I’m taking my medications prescribed by my psychiatrist. I’ve been exercising to try and relieve stress. I attended all my therapy appointments. But it’s just not working. When can one say it’s okay, you’ve done enough?

Today the desperation and fear hit me early and all at once. Normally the depression descends on me throughout the day, steady and consistent, but, today, it dropped on me unexpectedly. I thought I had a little more time today before it got this bad. 

The Viewmaster is at it again. Memories, flicks, images, and flashbacks slide into focus like a Viewmaster, and then the button is pressed and the next image on the reel takes its place. The images slide in quickly and erase themselves even quicker so that the picture is never exactly clear, but the feelings of desperation and fear linger, watching and waiting for me to crumble.  And so I do.

I’m exhausted. In my most desperate hours, I wonder if I should check myself into a hospital. I don’t think I want to die, but the thought I can end this pain when I want is comforting. I am afraid of what I might do. But what could a hospital do for me? I guess it could keep me safe. And right now, I’m not. 

I feel the urge to cry, but the tears get stuck behind my eyes, frustrated and unaccomplished. Numbness penetrates my ability to feel anything but desperation, and so the tears are unrequited.

I looked at my Pinterest boards for quotes about self-compassion, self-kindness, and hope in an attempt to show myself some grace and love for being so depressed. I wanted some inspiration to stay in this fight, but nothing helped. The quotes don’t resonate with me; they fail to reach my heart.

I’m sick to my stomach at the thought of the upcoming weekend when I’ll have no support. Normally, structuring my time is good for me. Keeping busy and distracted helps, but, currently, even the smallest task is overwhelming. I don’t know how paralyzed I’ll feel at any given moment, so making plans just sets me up for failure and even more depression.

I wish I had an answer for me. I am the question mark. Query me and you’ll find the definition of hopelessness. 

I don’t want to give up. I really don’t. But I’m scared, I’m desperate, and I’m running out of time.

I just need to find a reason to breathe.

Current Music Mood: Angel