Down-n-Out

I wish I could say that during my blogging hiatus (almost 3 months now) that things have cheered a bit for me.  Unfortunately, my doctor is still playing around with my medicine and doses.  I feel like I've been under a consistent fog of depression since October.  Some days I feel fine, cheery, and like my normal self . . . whereas, the next day I'll wake up with crippling anxiety and stress (over nothing & everything at the same time).  I'll hide in the dark bedroom, covers pulled up trying to protect myself against the world it feels like.  The overwhelming sadness is crippling, sobs will rack my body until I shake with shock, my eyes and face will become swollen, I'll cry for hours until I feel completely and truly drained.  I'll cry until I feel like I don't have an iota of emotion left within me... till I'm numb.  The other emotion I feel (with more rarity) is a raging anger.  I'll fly off the handle at the least provocation (intended or not).  My anger is such that I feel I can't possibly bottle it up anymore least I emplode, so I explode instead.  I'll scream (never realizing how loudly I did it until I realize my throat is sore later) and throw things.  I almost feel like I have to physically show how much I'm hurting for someone to listen - to hear me - to notice me.

For example:  My husband and I have been sharing a Queen bed for going on 4 years.  He knows I get irritated when he takes more than 1/2 of the blankets.  I have asked him not to do this, I have pleaded with him not to do this, I have tried to explain logically that 1 whole sheet shared equally between 2 people equals each person receiving 1/2 of the blanket.  However, nearly every night, he will get into bed and pull the covers more over to his side.  He says he can't help it (bullsh*t).
We have been in many many many tiffs over this during 4 years - so you think he would get it by now.  However, he did it about a week ago, and I flew into a rage.  Our normal tiff started, and I snapped.  I threw the book I was reading out into the hallway from where I was laying on the bed.  I jumped out of bed, went into the hallway, and screamed back into the room, "YOU KNOW IT PISSES ME OFF WHEN YOU DO THAT, AND YET YOU STILL FUCKING DO IT!"  I stomped down the stairs and sat on the couch.  My heart was beating wildly, and my body was in a flight-or-fight mode.  After a few minutes, he followed me downstairs and resumed his side of the argument.  I jumped off the couch and went into the kitchen, "FINE.  I'll solve this right now for you.  Since you can't figure out where half of the blanket is, I'll use a Sharpie and draw a line on it!".  He yelled at me that I'd better not grab a knife and use it at him (#1  I've never grabbed a knife.  #2  It bothers me he even THINKS I would grab a knife).  His comment was, "You'd better not f*cking write on those sheets!".  I ignored him and went upstairs.  I divided the bedsheet in half, and made a little black notch mark at the top to signal where 1/2 of the sheet was.  I then proceeded to throw the Sharpie into the spare bedroom on the floor, picked up my novel in the hallway, and laid back in bed to continue reading.  My heart was still hammering by the time he came back upstairs, and I can't say that I was really able to concentrate on reading.  He said,  "I never know how to act around you because you freak out over the slightest thing.  I have no warning at all."  I said, "I've been pretty patient.  I've been asking you to not do this for 4 years, and I finally couldn't take it anymore.  At least now, you know where 1/2 of the sheet is, and you can't claim that you don't."  He laughed... and like that, the argument was completely over.

My rage/anger scares me, but at the same time I feel like other people deserve it for walking all over me.  I bottle it up so long until I just can't take it anymore.

My doctor says I should get out and interact with more people, as it would help me not feel so alone.  However, whenever I try to look up activities, groups, or interests I become overwhelmed by the sheer amount of crap I have to sift through to find anything of use.  I become overwhelmed by the thought that I'll spend a lot of money.  I become overwhelemed by the thought of spending money and still flaking on the activity.  I have all these good intentions to get started with something, but I am so daunted to get started that it cripples me from even trying.

I feel like an ambitious person trapped by anxiety and stress, so I never do anything.  Then I berate myself for being "lazy".

Like I said, I've been in this fog since October.  Some days good, most days 'eh, some days terrible...  I can't remember the last time I didn't shoulder all this weight of depression.  I can't remember the last time I had true unaltered joy.  I feel like the only responsibility I can shoulder right now is the depression itself, and it feels like I'm drowning.  I bob above the surface occasionally, but it always drags me back under.  I'm tried of struggling, I'm tired of fighting, and I wish I could just give up.

I told my husband that the only hell there is must be here on Earth because I don't know how I could feel much worse than I do now.  I told him that death would be a relief.  I could stop fighting.  Mind you, I didn't say I wanted to kill myself.  I merely said that if I happened to die it would be a relief.

I feel like I'm screaming on the inside to be let out.  If depression were a physical part of me, I would literally take a butcher's knife and hack it off of myself like an amputated limb.  It is debilitating, but it is so melded within me that I can't peel it off - like a layer of skin.

I wish it were as easy as "Don't Worry, Be Happy".