I Am So Tired of Myself

I look at people all the time and wonder if they like themselves.  It seems as though they must because they are out having fun, interacting with others, living their lives.  Why can they do that and I can’t?  Why is it that I have to FORCE myself to  interact?  I have friends.  I have GOOD friends. And those times that I do happen to make myself get out there, I enjoy the interactions – up to a point.  But, it’s just so dad-gum hard to make myself get out there.  It shouldn’t be that way.  I know it shouldn’t be that way. But, knowing and doing are two different things in my mind.

A couple of months ago, I thought I had made a breakthrough in therapy. I thought I had it figured out.  But, I’ve thought that before.  Sometimes after a torturous session, that well-known light bulb will seem to go off and things make sense.  I understand how and why I do the things I do and I think that I will be able to pick up and carry on.  And sometimes, it works for a while. But, it seems as though after a bit of time, those same old doubts, fears, recriminations, and dislike of myself creep back into my thoughts and I’m back in the same old hole.  Oh, how I hate those times.  I get so disappointed in myself that I can’t seem to maintain the positive outlook that I thought I had grasped.

I’ve had an excuse this time, though.  For the past six weeks or so, I’ve been just plain sick.  Not sure if it was the flu (I guess I would have known if I had gone to the doctor), but whatever it was — it had me good.  For the first week, I just felt bad — headaches, achy, yucky.  Then, it jumped on me BAD.  I spent three solid weeks of high temps, aching, feeling like crap and just not being able to function.  Sleeping and just burrowing in my bed was all I wanted to do, and I did it well.  The next week, I thought I might live and then it hit again for another 10 days of fever.  Still didn’t go to doctor because by that point, I just didn’t care.  (Plus the fact that if I had gone to the doctor I would have had to have gone in my nightgown because I didn’t have the energy to put clothes on.)  After those 10 days, the fevers stopped and I still felt drained, but it was evident that I was not going to die.  I did learn one thing through the sickness, though.  And that is this — it ought to be against the law or be a sin for God to allow a depressed person to get that sick.  Depression + high fevers just don’t mix well.  It is so easy to reach the point where you just don’t give a flying flip if you live or die.  I almost felt like Jerry Clower in that routine of his where he’s up in a tree with a coon and he hollers, “Just shoot up here amongst us.  One of us has got to have some relief.”  That’s exactly how I felt.

I’m finally feeling a bit better and I did finally go to the doctor for my regular 4-month follow-up.  And, yes, I did get chewed out — big time. And I have found out that I kinda, sorta have a reason to not feel so good. Seems like internal body parts are just plain wearing out.  But, with new meds, I’m hoping some of this crap will get better.  We shall see.

Author: alightatthetopofthehole

A mother, a grandmother, a retired teacher, a sister, a daughter, a friend, and a troubled soul. A woman working on understanding her depression and finally overcoming the feelings of inadequacy, emptiness, failure, and not being whole.

2 thoughts on “I Am So Tired of Myself”

  1. Betty, if I sound tired and confused its because I am. I wish I could tell you how many times I have thought the exact same thing. When the “label” is PTSD (a word I’m sick of), we react by avoiding. Contact, interaction, the known, the unknown. It is easier to stay where it feels safe. Hell. Did you know I have been to 1 movie and not one sit-down, nice restaurant in going on 2 years? Or anywhere else where there are crowds I can’t escape? Sleep 3 hours a night? Fight food issues? Cant see **** sometimes. And folks send me messages and thoughts littered w/damn smiley faces and exclamation points like I’m 5. Or. I found another has been taking my pics without the courtesy of asking and putting them on her page. My neighbor threatened to kidnap me this week. Police came. I now need another place to live. To some neighbors–his friends–I did something wrong. I, otoh, push myself beyond sometimes human endurance because, I told my therapist, I find peace–and myself–in the mtns and, more important, in my interaction w/others. But I can’t sit still and watch a movie or enjoy cooking. It’s TIRING. I’m now doing an audio book (have the book) on a new way of looking at suffering. Pop psychology does not work. The I’m ok you’re ok method. As the book says, we don’t flourish despite suffering and merely focusing our thoughts on the positives. We don’t flourish mired in our traumas either. We flourish by approaching those traumas in the best way possible for US. That we actually lose sight of who we are unless we stop minimizing our limits, struggles and weaknesses. Our very real suffering. I get so damned tired of the struggle to, as one “friend”advised me, “STAY POSITIVE!!! IT HELPS!!!☺☺☺” (No. Those WORDS dont help. He meant them. Moron). It’s every day. Some days it’s nonstop. Body and mind and spirit get TIRED. And when they do, and I wonder how I can take one more minute cuz my heart hurts so damn bad, I don’t need hyperbole or cheerleaders. I need REAL. And you just gave me that. You shared what is real. And I hurt for you and I cry as I read it. But I also think–and here’s the damn point–if you can keep going when your heart is all torn up, and you can write these words to help someone else, I can keep going too. And your words speak to my heart as they always have. Now I’m gonna go back to lying here or crying or being pissed off or just plain lonely. But. I’ll remember what you’ve written here. And read it again. And it will seep in. And soothe the hurt and fatigue. When you share yourself, Betty, you help someone see him or herself in you. And that is a damned fine thing for you to do. I joked yesterday that God loves me cuz my ice cream was on sale. Truly. God loves me because He gave me friends like you.

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    1. Deanna, I always feel better when I read anything that you write. You truly speak to my heart. But, you know that, don’t you? One of the things that amazes me about you is how open you are. And, of course, the fact that you are a dad-gum mountain climber. You go, girl.

      The fact that you can utter “PTSD” so freely also amazes me. That is one term that I still shy away from. Each time Roz says it, I cringe. I’m not sure why, and the day that she explained why I was diagnosed with PTSD, I agreed and understood it. But, for me to actually come out and SAY it is something that I just can’t do. Perhaps if I could accept it, I could deal with it thoroughly.

      Oh, and I hate, hate, hate, those emojis, also. Why are words so hard to use for some people? Just say how you feel and leave off all the cute pictures!

      Anyway, thanks for the kind words and for always being an inspiration to me. I love you, dear sweet Deanna.

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