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.