I’ve been feeling . . . weird lately. I’m not entirely sure how to explain it. For a while I haven’t felt like doing anything, which of course can be related to all the sad shit that has been happening in my life. But now I have the feeling that I want to do something and be productive yet I can’t think of anything to actually DO. I consider things I like to do to pass time or to even work toward my goals. Things like crocheting, reading, or writing. Even playing video games. None of them feel like they’re going to satisfy whatever itch I have. There’s things I even need to do like get rid of some clothes and books before we move. There’s this urge to do SOMETHING but it’s like nothing will fulfill it.
I’m not sure if any of this is related to depression. I am clinically/chronically depressed and have been struggling with it for most of my life. I’m on medications and I see my therapist once a month, so I’m managing it. I’ll have to manage it like that for as long as I live. Even though I manage it, it does sneak up on me every now and then. Sometimes I don’t realize I’ve had a depressive episode until I’ve come out of it. So, some of this feels like depression. I’ve been so tired lately and sleeping a lot is usually one of the biggest signs I’m going through it. I’m just not sure I’ve officially felt like this before.
I guess some of this can be related to two family members dying within two days of each other and two more having cancer/heart problems. Then there’s the whole trying to have a baby thing. I’m taking the steps to start IVF, and that has a better chance of me getting pregnant than the IUI I did. But, god, I can’t feel excited or hopeful about it anymore. I’m leaning more towards hopeless now. I don’t think I realized how much I wanted this until I kept failing. It makes me wonder if I’m not meant to have it. Because it’s not like adoption or something else is going to be any easier or less expensive. And it’s weird to feel bitter and feel like it’s unfair that it’s so easy for other people.
There’s always the thought that other people out there have it worse, so I don’t deserve to feel this way. Plus, in many ways, my life is going so well. I’m happily married, we were able to buy a house, I have a good support system in my friends, and while I’m fat I’m relatively healthy. The sadness that comes from my mom dying will never go away, but why can’t I think about the good things? And why can’t I just get off my ass and do something? Like, I’m even struggling to make blog posts, but that could be that my life just isn’t interesting.
I don’t really do anything all day. I’m not working right now because we can get by with just my husband working, and I left the last three jobs I had because for some reason or other I started self-harming again toward the end. You’d think I’d make use of the time I have to at least work at one of my biggest dreams of becoming a published author. But no. I sit here useless.
Maybe that’s what I’m destined to be. Just a lump who takes up space and gets in the way. Because it looks like the universe doesn’t want me to be a mom, and I’m too much of a depressed piece of shit to ever write. So, I guess I’m going to sit here only existing, never contributing anything.
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