Saturday, February 19, 2011

another tired saturday

Today, I bought Friedrick, my guinnea pig, a harness so I could take him outside or something. It's too big, though, but I didn't want to get him the pink one. So I'll have to see if the big one works or if I'll have to return it.

Yesterday I saw Mr. Psychiatrist again. He told me I needed to sleep to get better. Novel thought. So I'm taking Lorazepam at night to slow my brain down so I can sleep. Somehow last night was plenty restless even with Lorazepam. What am I doing wrong?

I asked that in tears over the phone to a friend. What am I doing wrong? And she said, nothing. The thoughts that jump around my brain aren't there because I'm sinning. I wonder if I could quite believe that. Surely it is evidence of deep and rebellious sin that my brain thinks such thoughts (typical of moderate or severe depression). Or maybe not.

I just read someone else's post about being compassionate to ourselves. That's hard.

Do you know how exhausting it is to be afraid to be in your own home? Not conducive to getting my laundry done either; I'm on week two without doing laundry. I'm so ready to fall apart, but once again, afraid of being at home. And out side of the home, I kind of keep it together. I'm not too interested in crying in front of the entire library. Besides, crying would require too much effort.

I was supposed to see Mr. Psychiatrist again next Friday, but our schedules were at odds, so I'm now set to go a whole week and a half before I see him again, and that just feels long. I don't want to think of feeling this bad for a week and a half.

So back to my coping skills. Dealing with the world a little tiny piece at a time. Calling a friend, having mercy on my very sleepy self.

Ms. Therapist talked about short term supplamental disability income so I'd only have to work part time (which is pretty much what I currently work - well, maybe half the days I work. Other days I work more like 3/4 time). I feel so discouraged. When my therapist is talking about such options. Why can't I be doing better? Meanwhile, I'm feeling half asleep. Gotta love medication and/or lack of sleep. This will get better. I know it will. I believe it will. And for now, I'll just keep putting one foot in front of the other, with a few (or many) pauses where I turn into a statue. I wonder if that's a side effect, my muscles tensing up and just freezing. But I can move, just as soon as I work up the mental strength to do so.

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