What do you do when you find out that every wish on every birthday candle, every wishbone, every shooting star that your husband has had for the last 5 years has been for you to stop having seizures, and that’s what’s finally happened… but you don’t think you can keep going on without antidepressants, which are what were bringing down your seizure threshold and causing them to happen more frequently?
It’s only 10:20 a.m. – I have only been awake for an hour and a half – and I’m already feeling deeply morose and panic-stricken because all that I have left to do today are dishes and laundry, which won’t even take me an hour. I am already freaking out about how every weekday is exactly the same in its loneliness, emptiness, and ultimate lack of purpose. My level of distress is intolerable and physically icky.
All that I want is to feel like I am not a waste of space and resources. I want to have activities to do. I want to feel like I make a positive difference in the world.
I know that I matter to Adam. I know that I matter to my family. I know that I matter to my friends.
I know that being depressed like this doesn’t help anyone. I feel like I’m fumbling around in the darkness trying to find my way out and am constantly knocking into walls.
I wish, more than anything, that I could stop panicking about it all. The sense of urgency to end the anxiety over the whole situation, I think is what drives the suicidal thoughts.
It’s like “AAHHH! OMG! THERE’S NOTHING GOING ON!!! THAT’S NOT OKAY!!!”
It makes me sick at my stomach. It makes me want to hide. It makes me wish I could sleep all day. It’s embarrassing, not to know what to do with yourself, and to realize that you’ve gone for so many years having constant seizures that you didn’t notice you weren’t doing anything and were okay with it.
I’m ashamed to say that part of me wants the antidepressants back because I had accepted the seizures as my lot in life and had become accustomed to living that way. It’s a lot harder trying to fill your day with activity and purpose when you had convinced yourself that you couldn’t do things.
Last night, Adam had me cook him an egg. That was something I hadn’t done in years. And I know that if I can cook an egg, there are probably a lot of other things that I can do too. I’m just scared. So I’m paralyzed by my mind, and that’s… well, terrifying in and of itself.
I’ve got therapy tonight, and I’m glad for that. I feel fundamentally broken and completely lame. Maybe the doc can help me put myself back together. Right now, I can’t even get on a bus to go to the gym by myself.
There are some things that I’m trying to do at least. I’m warming up vocally again, even if I don’t have a band to sing with or a chorus or anything. I’m dancing to music when no one’s around rather than just sitting around, to try to shake off the blues… I’m really trying to not be sad.
Maybe if I try long enough, it’ll start to work…