November 2, 2015

It's 2:30 in the afternoon and I feel like shit.  

And yesterday was such a good day, too.  Was going to plant bulbs and "decorate" Mom's grave but Niece was with me and after I warned her that I might cry, she decided not to accompany me.  And knowing how bored she gets and because I love her company, I decided to postpone my planned task until today.  

Didn't sleep well last night.  Kept waking up and then falling back to sleep.  I'm out of Ambien so I have to get my refill today.

At the moment I am anxious and depressed.  The ends of my fingers are cold and my chest feels tight.  I hate the anxiety.  The anxiety is new within maybe the last year.  Prior to that it was just (!) the depression, sadness and hopelessness.  Now I have bouts where I get a knot in my chest, a trembling stomach and the rest of my body quivers.  Butterflies but not in a good way, more of a terrifying way.

Watching Night at the Museum and seeing Robin Williams as Teddy Roosevelt.  I think a lot of us who suffer from mental illness were hoping that his suicide might bring the topic to "the surface" so people would discuss it but I'm not optimistic.  I hope that at least it shows people that even the funniest, smartest, most successful and, in Williams' case, sweetest people get to the point where dying is better than living.

The other day I was on YouTube looking at suicide stuff and a girl did a video about killing herself.  One of the comments from a viewer was, "Don't write about it, just kill yourself if you're going to do it."  Asshole.  Which makes me wonder if we (the mentally ill) can't win for losing.  If we want to share the fact that we're feeling so hopeless and the pain is so great we want to leave this planet, we're met with impatience and disdain.  But yet we're told by the professionals and other mental illness sufferers that we need to "reach out" and "share" and "express our feelings."  

I've been looking at houses for sale up north near where Gramma and Grandpa used to have their cabin.  Some I could pay for outright with money left over for updates Of course, the conundrum is getting my therapy and such in a very small town.  Sure, there's a National Forest but what good is that if I'm laid up with suicidal thoughts 24/7.  There's always the possibility that if I did buy a house and lived there it may help my depression. 

So I guess I will get up and get the Foster Dog and go to the library and the post office and the pharmacy for my Ambien.