In the time since I last wrote here I have had several thoughts but no gumpsion. As my father used to say, "My get up and go has got up and went". This lack of energy/drive has been missing my whole life or so it seems, though a shrink once said the depression itself started between twelve and thirteen. A lot of stuff happened that year including the worst beating of my life, and starting my monthly cycle.
Though that really doesn't explain this complete lack of drive I have. I worked at a job I liked because it was what you did at that age but when you change employers every few months it can be nerve racking, I solved that later by becoming a temp it was more in keeping with the ups and downs I experienced.
I got married at 27 because he asked and I didn't want to become an old maid. I managed to keep that going for five years but eventually it fell apart because I just had no interest in continuing to try.
For a few years after that I remember being happy and moving forward a little though I think that had to be as much the drugs they had me on for my depression as with my own attitude, more perhaps. My mother died and the world went to hell for three years. My kids left during that time and I near drank myself to death.
But then I got my first computer and suddenly all the things I had ever wanted to learn about was free and available. Also I made some friends in the chat rooms of the day called BBS. BTW one of those was the Professor. so you could say I found love there too.
I lived by myself for the first time ever and I liked it, I even lost a lot of the extra weight I was carrying around, when I married the Professor I was a good 30 pounds lighter than I was when I met him. :) That didn't last long though. When I entered his world I entered a world that was very different from the life I had led most of my life. After being poor for decades suddenly I was comfortably middle class, I had a good paying job that I liked and co-workers who were nice to me. Except that was the problem you see.
Everything was so great I was waiting and worrying. Waiting for the second shoe to drop as they say, too much good luck just had to be followed by some really bad luck. Worrying and eating, eating because I could and because I was worried, I gained back the thirty pounds plus a lot more. When I was let go and then the Professor lost his job all I felt was releif, now I was back to a level I understand, still comfortable but all the fancy dinners and life theatre four times a year were gone. The Professor found another job quickly enough and so did I.
Except that eventually I had to move closer to my work or be up at 4 am every morning to catch the bus to be on time for my shift. I left because it made sense at the time but I wonder how my life would have been different if I hadn't left that first time. When I came back he and his roundhead brother had taken over the whole house and from then on I felt like an interloper. I loved the Professor still, (as much as I am capable of anyway), but there was no room in his home and even less in his life for me.
Eventually I left again, knowing that there was no chance for me to ever return to his home or his life ever again. Well sorta, as you know we can't live together and we certainly don't have sex any more but still we talk every night and I visit about once every 30-60 days for a week or so at a time. It is a strange relationship we have these days. I still get mushy when I see him but when he is not around sometimes I wish he would just leave me alone.
There is a photo of me on my facebook profile, it is the last good photo I ever had taken, the me that sits here is beginning to show her age. At least the monthly cycle is gone, I'm willing to gain a few wrinkles for the removal of that mess. It was also the last time I remember ever moving about and enjoying it pain free. The Fibro set in sometime between that photo and my next yearly check-up.
The first thing I noticed was that I was tired all the time not just some of the time and that those five hour walks I used to enjoy now were fifteen minutes at the most. When I had to do running around to do I was only able to manage half the number of stops that I used to be able to do and that after a couple of hours out I would come home and take a nap. Naps slowly but surely from being an occasional thing to being an every day thing, Finally I found myself buying Tylenol much more often and taking quite a few more in a day than the two I used to take to help me sleep. Not only that but my back still hurt even after taking the maximum recommended dose and then some.
Since my father died depression that the pills can't help with has set in and I am sleeping 12 to 15 hours out of every 24, I eat constantly and my I don't care attitude has in fact become a way of thinking. I do not have the energy any more to worry about how my actions might affect those around me. And once more it doesn't matter, I am dealing with my misery, they can deal with their own problems
When I go to see the doctor on the 14th I'm going to tell him the truth, that the pills aren't helping and that they haven't helped in several months. I will tell him about dad but I also plan to tell himthat I quit. I'm quitting controlling my diet, I'm quitting worrying if I am getting enough exercise and that generally if I had my way I would quit the human race completely except that I can't commit suicide instead I will die the day I get so fat my poor heart gives out and I'm not going to even try to prevent it.
I am tired, tired, tired and I want to be able to rest as long as I need to without feeling guilty about it.