I've really been fighting the blues.
Desperation, suicidal thoughts, feeling the urge to self-harm, feeling isolated and angry, lonely and sad, stressed and anxious; my life isn't what I want it to be, not at all. I'm fighting every day to make it better, but the struggle is starting to feel like it's defining me. Is this all I am anymore, pain and strife?
It doesn't help that I feel disapproval all around me. If I can smile, why can't I work? Only one class at a time, I'm obviously not trying very hard. People who are negative, people who discourage, people who look bored when I try to explain how hard I work to be only a little productive, they wear me down. As much as I try to be a honeybadger, we are social creatures and being told that I'm not doing it right, or well enough, can be defeating. All this effort, and I'm still a disappointment. All this fight, and I'm no closer to happiness.
I've been told that people just don't understand, that I'm so private about my pain, that I put up such a front, that people can't see what I'm going through. So, I reached out on Chronic Migraine Awareness Day and posted a status update on facebook. I said, "Today is the first Chronic Migraine Awareness Day. [Posting a serious, personal status] isn't usually my kind of thing, but I happen to have chronic migraines. There is no cure, and for many of us, no effective treatments. This neurological disorder, which is most closely related to epilepsy, is disabling and life-changing for the 2% of the population who are affected. If you'd like to donate to migraine research, here's a good place to start: http://www.migraineresearchfoundation.org/."
Not a single person commented, liked or shared it, besides my partner, and not a single person liked or commented on his post. Maybe they didn't know what to say. Maybe they didn't care. Whatever the reason, being ignored hurts.
Exercising has been difficult. I wake up stiff and sore almost every morning, and the tiniest overexertions trigger my head faster than grandma's perfume. Light yoga, some easy weights when I remember I have them and short, slow walks are about all I can manage lately. Unfortunately, moving my body and getting my blood pumping is my favorite form of therapy when I'm feeling down, so my inability to really move is affecting much more than my muscle tone.
I just finished up my nutrition class and I've been beating myself up because I got a B. I worked as hard as I could and still couldn't reach my goal, which was an A+, of course. I'm aware that perfectionism is self-defeating, I'm hoping my perspective on this will improve whenever this depressive fog lifts.
I'm tired, physically and emotionally. It's exhausting trying to be happy through pain and the limitations of this disease can make life so boring. It's tempting to simply give up, let the darkness take over and let go of this life turned awful. Sometimes I just wish I could get a break, a vacation from the stress and pain. I'm tired of being so poor it's impossible to feed ourselves healthfully, I'm tired of wanting more from my life.
All these stresses, big and small, add up. When my head gets bad, when my burdens seem too great to bear, the only thing that keeps me from killing myself is the toll it would take on the people I love. I'd rather live the rest of my life in agony than leave the scars of suicide on those I care about. I keep pictures everywhere to remind me, on my bad days, of what really matters. They help bring me out of the dark and back into the dim. I may be having trouble shaking this depression, but I'm sure as hell not going to let it shake me.