Am I really still alive?
A page in the diary "A Day in the Life Of..."
Written by babz 27. Jan 2008 05:23 PM
Yesterday was an OK day. I bummed around most of the day, went off to my yoga class for the first time since the last crisis started in November/December. I surprised myself with how physically strong I was. I was angry at myself, so I forced myself to push through the pain - the results of what I could achieve just by that hate was amazing - I did stuff I hadn't done since I quit gymnastics 9+ years ago. I organised a BBQ as a half-hearted attempt at being patriotic and so Andy and his partner Chris came over (they've just gotten back from China) then Mum came home and joined us. I had a nice night, it was pleasant sitting outside and talking with my friends.
Watched Edward Scissorhands and finally went to bed in the early hours of this morning.
Today was a bad day. I woke up and just couldn't face the world, so I took my morning medications and cried myself back to sleep. Woke up an hour or so later and took PRN Seroquel and Valium, screamed into my pillow for a while and went back off to sleep after the pills kicked in. Woke up at 4:30pm and dragged myself out of bed. Forced myself to go for a walk to try and loosen up the muscles that are hurting from pushing so hard in yoga yesterday. It didn't work, but every step was agony which I took a little too much satisfaction in.
I'm not depressed. I'm numb, empty, completely void of anything. A black hole if you will. It's times like this when I just can't see the point in fighting. This is why I don't like taking my medications, I'd rather be manic or depressed than a zombie like this - at least then I'd know if I was alive or not.