Things have continued to go downhill in my head.
From my Livejournal, August 17th, 2012:
I know I can’t kill myself, because that is a permanent solution to a… not temporary problem, as this will never go away, but a transient one, because my depression is more like a creepy stalker that keeps showing up uninvited and letting itself in. I’ve never had the best relationship with sleep, but since the bedbugs, it’s been worse than ever, leading to even more wild mood swings. I don’t sleep more than about 5 hours a night on work nights, I’m late because I oversleep, I am constantly afraid for my job security and what I will do if this continues to get worse. My doctors both think I am doing quite well, overall, and for someone with my disorder, I pretty much am, but I have to work full-time to support myself, and at the same time I think that’s what’s killing me right now.
I can’t kill myself, but I want very much for the pain to stop. Please, make it stop…
I’m going back to bed.
Thankfully some sleep (fourteen hours!) helped, though I’m still a little bit depressed. Saturday I hung out with my sister most of the day. She is newly engaged, so of course the wedding is all that is on her mind. It’s strange; my illness keeps me in my own head a lot, and I’ve never felt much of a pull to be fashionable or follow trends. I wear what I want and what is comfortable. My sister is my polar opposite in that, and the better I get to know her, the more I realize she is full of her own neuroses about how she appears to others. This is pretty foreign to me, to be honest. I usually am so busy fighting my own demons that I don’t have the emotional energy to care what people think of how I look, or to keep up appearances. Usually my fear is that they are disappointed in me for something I’ve done, rather than how I look. We’re both worried about what other people think, but in different ways. We went to several stores and wound up trying on clothes in TJ Maxx, and she commented on how I can get away with wearing whatever I want.
Mind, she is a size six. I am a multiple of that. My clothing choices are severely limited. I’m just glad that I don’t have to wear a muumuu most days for lack of decent pants and dress shirts. For my sister, who can walk into any store in the mall (other than the one whole store that caters to my size range) to say that *I* can pull off more looks… I was a bit flabbergasted.
I guess it comes down to self-confidence, in a way. I’ve embraced my physical appearance and don’t really care what other people think of it, and wrestle with my anxiety and depression. My sister gets to wrestle with her anxiety about her appearance.
I took the bipolar bullet for her. I wish I could’ve taken the anxiety, too.