Maybe this won’t come as any surprise, but I’m not doing well these days. Things are extra busy for me at work, and I am (once again) cracking under the pressure. I’ve been more depressed than I’ve been in a while.
Basically, I wake up at 5am, I get to work between 645 and 7, I workworkwork and stressstressstress until about 11am. At 11am (or thereabouts), I scarf down my lunch in less than 10 minutes, while still working. Then I workworkwork some more, until about 430 or 445. I battle traffic on the 805 South. I get home and make some dinner, prep the coffee maker for the morning, do some cleaning, watch some TV, and by 8pm, I’m about to collapse. I manage to sleep until about 2am. I wake up, I pee, and then I can’t fall asleep for at least another hour, because I’m stressing and worrying about work things. Maybe I fall back asleep around 3 or 330. Then I wake up at 5am, and the cycle repeats.
I am worn out and I don’t like to talk to people. I’m neglecting my friends. Not due to anything that THEY’VE done, mind you. It’s due to the fact that I just…am done. I don’t have the energy to talk…or do anything. I’m withdrawing. It’s gotten to the point where the ringing of the phone gives me panic attacks. Please don’t make me talk – it’s going to be bad news, or someone asking a stupid question or a demanding client or just something I don’t want to deal with.
I’m working, working, working and getting no where. It’s the nature of the industry. Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. I take on more than I should, because if I don’t, I could prove myself to be dispensable. If I lost my job, I’d fall further into debt, and royally screw up not only my life, but the life of my husband. I can’t let that happen. I won’t.
But the fact of the matter is, that I’m slipping backwards into my depression. I don’t want to do anything. I don’t care about anything. I’m pretty much just….meh…about everything. I took a double dosage of my Wellbutrin today (my shrink said I could if I needed to), and that seemed to help a little bit. I wasn’t on the verge of tears in my office all day. So…that’s a plus.
I wake up, and an hour later, I’m tired again. My limbs feel heavy. I’m so lethargic. I’m so tired, but yet my sleep is restless.
This post probably seems disjointed. No funny quips, no videos or pictures. Well, who cares. There are approximately 2.3 people who may or may not read this blog regularly. So I can say what I want, how I want. I don’t want to bother people with my endless whining. Hell, I do enough of that on twitter (and facebook, less so). NO ONE CARES. So fuck it. I just need to get out that I am sad and I am tired and I am stressed and there is very, very little that I actually give a shit about right now. I’m plugging along. Because that is what you do. You don’t collapse. If I can still function, well then by god, I’m going to. I’m not a fucking slacker.
Since I taken on the new/additional responsibilities (which, as my boss keeps reminding me, makes me more money), I have:
- Been put on medication for high blood pressure
- Gone back into talk therapy
- Been put on anti-depressants after several years of being off them
- Been given a prescription for meds for my anxiety and panic attacks
- Been given a prescription for medication to help me sleep
This is not coincidence, I’m sure. But what else can I do? I have to keep going. I have to keep working. But man, it’s hard.
I want to be happy again. I want to have…something. I don’t know what.
In other news, I’ve lost about 8 pounds so far since the new year on Weight Watchers. That’s something. It’s not enough to make me all happy again, but it is something I’m proud of.