By the time you read this, I will officially be 29 years old. I never expected to live this long, to be completely honest. Especially not eight years ago when the depression was so bad I was contemplating suicide during my every waking moment. I didn’t necessarily want to, I just figured it would be inevitable. How long can you hold out against that sort of assault?
Longer than I ever believed possible, I guess, because I’m still here. So far, the illness hasn’t won. So far, I keep fighting, even when I’m miserable and tired and just want it to be over. The sobering fact that it mostly likely will never be over is even harder to take. Somehow, I highly doubt there will ever be a cure for most mental illnesses, only new medications, maybe new ways to get those medications. Maybe someday we’ll finally get a single-payor system put in place here in the States, so I can get access to those new medications without going broke. As it is, I had to switch to Celexa from Lexapro because Celexa is $4/month and Lexapro is $100/month, and my pharmacy just informed me that they had to switch manufacturers for my Lamictal so the price went up a bit. Generic or not, insurance or not, it’s still expensive as hell to need to take multiple medications for a chronic illness, not to mention the cost of actually seeing doctors for treatment. Maybe in the future it won’t be so cost-prohibitive. Maybe I’ll be able to get the treatment I need so I can stay well and stay in the workforce without going broke to do it.
There’s still no movement on the job front, despite my throwing applications at anything that moves. I’m about halfway to D-day here, and it’s hard to keep up hope. Hell, I haven’t put on pants in two days, because I haven’t even left the apartment since Tuesday. I was going to go to the nature preserve today but the weather was iffy so I’ll go tomorrow. It’ll be my birthday present to myself. I did talk to my mom about it and she seemed pretty excited. My sister and I are going out for dinner Friday and then to go see The Hobbit in the cheap theater, as I’ve not been able to convince someone else to go with me and I’ve not been able to afford it, either. Saturday we’re going to one of the huge thrift stores around here to see what we can find, and a cupcakery. I’m pretty excited.
I keep reading other, far more successful blogs than mine and wondering how it is they are so successful. Most of them have been writing longer than me, for one, and they’re also funnier. The Bloggess, for example, is hilarious. While I’m weird and so are my friends, nothing quite THAT funny happens to me. Or I think it’s funny but I don’t end up writing about it. A lot of the bloggers out there also suffer from some sort of illness, and so I wonder if I could be one of the greats, maybe write a book (finally!) but I think I’ve got to get some more time under my belt, first.
Ah, well. Happy birthday to me, and hopefully we’ll see thirty after all!