Wednesday, November 08, 2006
 

Warning: Major self-pity parade ahead.

Okay, I'm tired of this day to day living thing. I mean, I always resent it, but now I'm just plain stinking tired of it, and if my prof were around to shove me in her car again, I'd get into it.

Maybe for the wrong reasons, I don't know. I'm certainly not as completely nonfunctional as I was before, that's for sure. I keep my work situation more stable. But dreading every second of every day . . . I don't want to get up, I don't want to eat breakfast (but I stuff my fat face anyway-- I currently weigh far more than I ever have in my life), I don't want to go to work, I don't want to interact with employees or coworkers (I often fantasize about locking myself in the supply closet), I go to sleep when I get home, then I get up relunctly, only because I can't sleep from 5:30 ish until the next morning-- otherwise I would.

None of my clothes even begin to fit. I've quit showering except under duress. I don't brush my teeth anymore (but I don't go to the dentist, either). I don't put on makeup anymore, one of my favorite little rituals before. Fat ugly faces do not need makeup. I'm still living at home-- no house, no independent life, no exciting career. In fact, with the degrees I have (master's, partial PhD and all), I've already advanced as far as I can at the library without getting a MLIS. And can I go back to school and expect to remain sane??? It's only an online program, but still . . . it sure pushed me right over the edge before.

I got a new pdoc, like her more than the previous one. I miss both Nashville docs terribly. I'm still on a pile of pills. Sometimes I think I should just quit taking them. Then sometimes I run out of something or the other and I'm then reminded of what a stupid idea that might be. Seroquel, the high dose I'm on, is probably at least in part responsible for the weight gain, but even taking a lower dose produces shakiness, hyperalertness of the most uncomfortable kind, and the music and voices which I'm told aren't there are no longer muffled.

I feel like poison to be around. I feel like an intruder in my family's home. I feel inadequate and frustrated in my job, and that MLIS is always hanging over my head. And I wouldn't even be getting the MLIS for job advancement; I wouldn't want to be an administrator. It's just job protection at this point.

I've gotten to the point where I can't even keep up with what season it is. So many things are confused in my mind. Yes, drugs. But I never do anything to stimulate my brain anymore, and I think it's just shrinking away like old Jello. I've always felt like an intellectual fraud anyway.

I'm too tired to write more, and it's past my bedtime. I can already feel the acid reflux gearing up for the night.

Thank you for coming to my Pity Party. I hope you enjoyed yourself. Do come again.

Labels: depression, drugs, fatness, whining

Elvisette philosophized at 11:31 PM