No rest for the de-pressed

We had an outstanding 3 hour argument on Thursday about everything. And I mean a PROPER argument. Me crying so hard I couldn’t talk, him screeching at me, the works. As a rule we are not a couple that argues.

Let’s just say I had a lot to talk about at counselling.

I had a panic attack that day on the walk home from the shops. I got back and had to change my phone background from him to one of my dog. I felt… betrayed?? The more I sat and worked it out the more I realised that it was because he’d triggered the big red “abusive dad” button in my head. The dog chewed something of his that day and I was worried about telling him because I had a fear he would hurt the dog. He never would but my dad once threw my childhood dog over a 6ft fence because it wouldn’t stop barking.

I think it was that feeling of fear that I resented him creating in me and it was probably the shock of seeing that anger in him come out. He hadn’t realised the true extent of how lonely I am and how much I am struggling right now as essentially his life hasn’t changed a great deal. He is still going out to work at the same job and most of his hobbies are unaffected.

I’ve been trying to work out with my counsellor why the prospect of moving house is fucking me up so badly. Like to the point while boxing things up I leant on a wall and cried.

1 – almost every reaction I have comes from a place of fear and worry

2 – this house is probably the safest space I have ever known: I own it, it currently has no debt, my family home is full of horrors from my dad and my 2nd home was rented and never felt secure to me. This house has been in my name from the start. It was a consistency when my ex left, when I was suicidal, when my mom died..

3 – I do not feel like this sacrifice is acknowledged. I can’t say this to my husband without coming across like a bitch and making out he is a burden. There is a small, hurt part of me that wants recognition at the fact that I am giving up my security, going back into debt, leaving behind my comfort blanket for him and his kids. Specifically for his kids benefit. I don’t resent them, I walked into this relationship with my eyes open…. but I just feel like I am being made to feel bad about wanting to leave all these things behind.

Then tonight my husband had a text from his ex because one of the kids had made out we just leave them unattended while I am at work and he is asleep. My mental resolve is so low at the moment I just want to do a full confrontation but that of course would be the worst thing in the world. They can never remember what they did 3 hours previously let alone remember something shitty they did days ago.

I want a break from myself. I just want to hand my body over to someone and be like “tell me how to make this look good”. I feel like a fucking swamp witch.

I am so so so exhausted. I just want to give up but the motivational force of self loathing won’t let me. I am still alive though. The depression is back but the suicidal fantasies aren’t. Horrible waking nightmare intrusive thoughts about terrible things happening to the dog are apparently trending though

Am I worse or is the diet working?

I think my mental health at the moment isn’t good. I don’t feel suicidal just… flat. It’s no secret that my coping mechanism/addiction for everything is food and I want it but… I don’t. I don’t know if this means my mind has been weaned off it a bit or whether I’m just getting that bad that the depression is overtaking the food side of things now.

I’m buying chocolate when I see it reduced and just hoarding it like some sort of chocolate dragon. I think it’s got something to do with a panic switch in my brain about resource endangerment. I realised the other day that I’ve been off and on diets since I was about 17. My mom lied to weight watchers so I could join underage. Looking back now I realise that my mom (who admitted to me later down the line that she had had bulimia as a teenager) taking me to a diet thing she was paying for and constantly pointing out she was wasting money if I wasn’t tracking/losing weight is possibly the worst thing ever.

I saw a video online about not hating yourself and becoming your best friend etc etc. It’s fucking hard. Self loathing is what has been propelling me forward through my depression and kept me upright. As much as it makes me want to die it is also, in a horrific way, keeping me alive and functioning. I do exercise because I hate myself, I don’t let myself be off work because that’s being weak, I try and be the best person to my friends and family because otherwise they will realise how terrible I am etc etc…

My husband said to me that I like stress and not because I enjoyed it but because I didn’t know how to function without it and I know in my heart that it’s true. I look back on my childhood and all I can see in my environment was stress. My dad’s mental health, his epilepsy (the family secret, stress in itself), the money troubles caused by both, the fact my parents were in a loveless marriage…. The worst of it is that I was generally a good kid or at least I was at school. I guess I’ve just learnt to accept it as the default world setting.

Ever since we came back from the honeymoon I’ve been half sick and half not. I think realistically I’ve been running on fumes since March and now the wedding shit is finally done it’s like the car has finally been allowed to stop running. And now it’s realised it’s out of fuel and it’s been running a very long time and it doesn’t want to start up again. I remember reading an article that said that it’s a proven thing that people get sick before they go on holiday because their bodies have finally been allowed to relax. With the isolation, I haven’t even been allowed to go out to walk the dog. I’m stuck in the house with my own mind and with the most recent restrictions not much is going to change. My husband is going to go back to work and I’ll just be stuck here on my own for 90% of the day again.

The meme of the tiny raccoon on the road is where I feel at the moment. I just want to be small and have someone look after me.

I’m not right

Fatigued AF

What kind of mad person decides to try and still get married during a pandemic? Oh right, this crazy bitch.

Since March we’ve gone from having a wedding and reception with 100 guests. July we cancelled the reception, kept the legal bit but decided we’d make it small with a mini reception in the back garden. We were told we could only have a total of 15 people in August. In early September we got told we couldn’t have the small reception anymore. Another government update today with 4 days to go but thankfully I think they’ve only reduced it down to our numbers anyway. So now I’m owing sacrifices to some gods.

It’s weird how it has just focussed my mind on ‘we just want to get married’. The rules in England are so fucking ancient and inflexible it just seemed the sensible thing to do. Plus we couldn’t move it without restarting the whole process all over again.

These things have not done wonders for my depression. My fiance keeps having arguments with me saying that “you can’t control everything”. Well surprise! My traumatic childhood has created a strong desire to say otherwise. At one point I think I had about 3 different variations on plans depending on what could happen to us.

Back in the days of yore, I used to tell people “I’m not depressed”. How could I possibly be depressed? I exercised, I held down my job, I went to evening classes, I had friends and went to gigs, I didn’t need meds. All these things surely couldn’t be possible if I was depressed.

What I discovered, through therapy, was that my brain had become so adept at having to function in a horrifying warzone and ‘carry on’ that I have basically become utterly desensitised to my own mental health. I could, mentally speaking, be dragging myself through a desert by one remaining limb while I bleed out and I will still book gig tickets, run a D+D session etc. I have become better at recognising the signs that I AM NOT OKAY but it’s still hard. In situations like this I’ve realised I’m not even bothering to check in.

It’s only been this past week that I have realised just how exhausted I am. Mentally, I have checked out. I am still in bed. For some reason, this is also the week where work have decided to keep asking me to do things and engage my brain. Sorry guys but I have no brain to speak of.

Another interesting angle on why my depression was so good at hiding itself: my self loathing is my jet fuel. I will be so fatigued that I want to just lie on the sofa and stuff my face but my utter hatred of myself will make me put on a workout video and cry while I’m sweating. Not an exageration. And all the time I’m doing the damn thing I just think how much I hate it. People get frustrated with me because they say “it’s not possible that you can’t feel a buzz after exercise!”. I just don’t. My brain goblin doesn’t allow it. The entire time I’m exercising all I can hear is “you’re so fat, can’t you feel it all jiggling round?” “if you just stopped eating all the fucking time you wouldn’t need to do this” “feeling so overheated is awful, it’s better just to give up” “there’s no point in this, you’ll just put it back on anyway or won’t lose anything”.

I wanted to try and lose as much as I could before the wedding. I’m frustratingly 3 pounds away from having lost 2 stone. There is no chance in hell that I will achieve losing 3 pounds. You have to burn 3500 calories to burn 1 POUND which is fucking insane. Throwing myself around doing cardio and wanting to die burns about 200. The easiest thing is not to eat in the first place but unfortunately as well as numbing myself to my own mental wellbeing, the other thing I’m brilliant at is eating my feelings (thanks mom).

Every time I take five minutes to pause I can hear my brain, screaming and crying and saying how tired it is and how sad. Every time I try to cry I just feel so dead and numb that nothing comes out. For the past 2 weeks I’ve just felt constantly on the edge of tears that won’t flow.

I just need to hibernate and maybe I’ll be fine. I just need to find some pressure release valve on my brain.

I’m so tired.