Remembering while you’re in the pit.

Sometimes we forget when we are down that there have been good times too. As you’ve maybe noticed, I haven’t been myself lately. Not to say that I am always a bouncy, bubbly, happy person, but I am more than I currently have allowed myself to be. Or I should say that I am more than my mental illness has allowed me to be.

In an effort to cheer me up (because she is the best), my friend asked me to draw my most loved/happiest memory of a time we spent together this year. This put me in a pickle. I had the same pickle when I was trying to do my Patronus test on Pottermore this year. Name a happy memory? Uhh… I will get to that… immediately. Fun times are totally right in the forefront of my mind.

I actually had to reach back and it made me feel horrible. I love my support circle so much. I get so much personal time with my mom and my brother, my best friends and my cousins. I hated that I couldn’t think of my happiest memory ever. Depression and anxiety rob you of that in such a strange way. It’s like all your happy times are muted a little bit. I KNOW that I have laugh-cried several times this year, both in person and on the phone with my best friend. We have had slumber parties, movie nights and museum trips. My mom and I have gone hiking practically every week since the spring, and it has given me great joy to share the forest with her. My dog is at the dog park several times a week, acting like a derp and running full tilt until I am in fits. I have been happy. I know I have. Why is it so hard to remember?

I know the Patronus test is like a kiddy thing to do. The computer code doesn’t care that you’re not remembering your best memory; it literally tells you that the speed with which you answer helps to determine the direction your results take. That being said, I was embarrassed. I reached back and remembered my own vacation to Hogwarts a couple of summers ago. It was literally perfect. My memories shine bright because I was in a pit then too, and it felt like a new beginning to me in some way. That’s when I started questioning if I was really happy then, too. Or my mental illness did. Wasn’t it too hot? Did you and Tanya fight at all, I can’t remember, Crystal. You ran out of money and couldn’t get all the fun stuff you wanted. Don’t forget coming back to credit card debt! It was awful. Remembering one of the best weeks of my life turned into me ruining it.

I didn’t want to do that this afternoon. I’m afraid of remembering happy times, because I don’t want to question them too. Of course I was happy this year. I know I was. It’s hard to remember when your brain is fuzzy and your mind is telling you that you are a piece of shit. I don’t know if any of this makes a ton of sense, or if people who suffer with mental illness just kind of get it, but it makes me feel like the worst friend. I didn’t want to draw a picture for my friend who was trying to make me feel better. Potentially tarnishing something that I have to already reach back in my memories for feels like something beyond that which I can handle at the moment. So I apologized and told her it was hard.

And I continue to feel guilty.

Where I’m at

Truly, the weird thing about depression and being unemployed is knowing about exactly how much time you are wasting, but not being able to motivate yourself to do anything about it. I don’t know how many times friends and family members crow about the amount I must get done in a day, and how I have all this time to really nail my job applications. It is a constant ache in my heart – pure guilt – that I can’t get up in the morning. I can’t utilize the time that has *so generously* been given to me to get healthy, read, learn new hobbies, practice becoming a better bilingual candidate, or craft a perfect cover letter. Thinking about cover letters has started to make me shake. I sit on the same three websites, trying to find happiness and motivation that I know probably won’t come. It hasn’t felt different in months. Days when I do get the motivation to bring up charityvillage or jobboard, I tend to open a bunch of promising tabs, only to find I don’t suit the qualifications at all. Not even close. One or two jobs do come up and then I’m shaking all over again, thinking about how finishing an application means another chance to fail. That’s when I bring up Tumblr again.

 

What hurts me the most, is that I used to hate people like me. Let’s be honest here, I still hate people like me. I hate that I can’t get to it and stop wasting everyone’s time and money. I hate that I force myself out of the house four times a day simply because my poor dog would never be able to relieve herself otherwise. Guys, I literally patted myself on the back yesterday for walking two doors down to take my garbage out, I can’t particularly say that I’m a capable human being. I hate that I am the kind of person who would turn to someone in my current situation and say: “ok, but you just need to do it. You need to start it, and work for ten minutes and then send it in. Done and done.” It’s really a statement I’ve heard multiple times from people I love over the past couple of months. It’s hard to say ‘I can’t’, when I ostensibly know that I have before. I’ve had jobs and gotten up for work and have been very successful. I’ve had compliments about my work from my peers and bosses. I’ve reveled in having more responsibilities, and then whined about having so much work to do for such little pay.

Can someone just tell me how to fix it? How do I stop disappointing everyone, even myself? I’m tired of my support group collectively sighing when I tell them that I’ve spent another day on the couch, if only because they have to come up with at least one more rousing motivational talk. They’re tired of it. I’m tired of it.

 

Help.

Amanda Lovelace

I want to kick my own ass (and other motivational words from me)

The thing I hate most about being in a depressive hole for so long is that I don’t give up hope. I’m one of those people who believes my life is eventually going to get better. Everyone has these pitfalls every once in a while… there’s going to be one small delight or accomplishment that’s going to get me back on track and I’m going to move forward, stronger than ever.

That’s why I woke up this morning so upset. Yesterday, I finally did something that I’ve been putting off for years. I went and did my first road test (my province has graduated licensing, so it’s one written test, followed by two road tests). I can drive by myself again. When I had lost my license (because I didn’t finish the last road test within the allotted five years), I had felt like an idiot. Doing the first written test again made me feel immature. Having to get a driving instructor to monitor me for a session made me feel ridiculous. That being said, I did all of this because months ago a very close friend who was concerned at my mental state then told me I ‘needed a win.’ I needed to succeed at one thing that I knew I could already do, that might be a little bit stressful, but that in the end would launch me out of the mood I was in and back on the path to winning. That for some stupid reason is what I expected out of yesterday. I was hopeful. I thought I’d finally be ok with job applications, and the stress of letting other people worry about me (which is a whole other post, trust me) and the need to find something good that I could build my life out of.

I feel like I’m kind of in the starting gate still and everyone else is getting their shit together. This is common – especially for my generation – but, I can’t seem to get my head to reevaluate my position. I’m stuck in this damned mood and I wanted this win too. I passed, everything is great, but I still feel like a failure and unjustifiably numb. I’m not better. It didn’t magically lift me out of shit. It’s small peanuts in comparison to being unemployed and not having enough money for dog food and groceries. It’s not an accomplishment if I still have to ask my mom for money or for my friends to pay for things. I should be an adult by now, right? There’s too much going on in my brain to let something like being able to drive make me feel better, maybe. I don’t even have a car. I can’t afford to rent a car or borrow one and pay for gas. I have nothing right now. It’s not a win at all.

 

This entire post reminds me of Live Journal. Did anyone have one of those as a teen? All my friends would use them as half-diary, half-quiz-collection catch alls. I just remember the need to emote a lot. Sometimes I had things that were actually problems, but I was soooo dramatic about it. I guess I need to put my drama somewhere, right? Let me inner-monologue here for a bit! I’ll be kind of funny again soon, I assume.

This is just complaining. Whoops.

I’ll come back to post something better when I feel like I can move again.

Don’t forget to be awesome. x