Exhaustion. It feels like a tsunami coming over me before anyone even had the chance to teach me how to swim. It feels like being tied to a bed and then having brinks to make sure you can’t move, as if being tied to the bed wasn’t enough. Every morning is a a constant struggle to get out of bed, or even just to sit up. Most morning’s I remember how to swim when the tsunami comes at me, but sometimes I don’t quite have the strength to swim to safety. In times like that, I am at the mercy of the tsunami.
I admit that there are many mornings that I struggle greatly to be able to even sit on the side of my bed, but what about the mornings where I forget how to swim? The mornings when I am being held down by brinks reminding me of the strength I need just to be able to move at all. These mornings don’t happen nearly as often as they used to, but they never fully go away. They are the mornings that remind me that everyday I am fighting against depression, and if I don’t give myself a break, eventually I will lose my strength, and exhaustion will take over. Yesterday was one of those mornings. The morning where I lay in bed, unable to move as if there are hundreds of brinks on top of my body, making it impossible to even roll over.
I stare at my coral color wall, unable to move the curtain to see outside. Somehow my mind is going every direction as I stare at this blank coral wall, with no details to distract my mind. I close my eyes, hoping that my mind will silence enough to let me simply go back to sleep, however I know that will never actually happen. Its 8:30 am, and I need to leave by 9:30am in order to make the meeting with my piano professor, or leave by 11:30am to make it to work on time. I open my eyes and find just enough strength to move my arm far enough to turn of the alarm that continues to go off on my phone. 8:40am, alarm number two goes off, reminding me I have ten less minutes to find the strength to get out of bed. I reach to turn it off. 8:50, alarm number 3 goes off, reminding me I have now twenty less minutes to find the strength to get out of bed. I reach to turn it off. This continues on repeatedly every 10 minutes until 9:30, when I lay motionless, allowing my alarm to continue to ring as I stare at my white ceiling knowing I didn’t have the strength to get out of bed on time, and now I will be late.
“Why am I like this? Why can’t I simply force myself to get up and go to work/school? What is wrong with me?”. This repeated over and over in my head until I realize my alarm is still going off and it is now 10am. I reach to turn it off. I accept the fact I am not going to be able to get the strength to get up and go to school/work, and reach to the side of my bed to grab my laptop, emailing my professor and boss that I won’t be in. Every time I hit send, more disappointment floods over me, almost as strong as the tsunami of exhaustion. Both my professor and boss respond saying it is okay, neither of them knowing that I am laying in my bed, filled with frustration directed at myself.
I got out of bed once to use the bathroom, and returning to my bed immediately after. I didn’t get out of bed until 3:45pm after that. These are the times I want to talk to someone and tell them everything I feel as I lay on my bed almost in tears, over disappointment with myself. These are the times that I am reminded just how much I lack of a support system. Granted, I am no longer completely alone, but somethings I don’t necessarily want to say to someone who I am not really close with. Those I were close with reminded me just how replaceable I am, and how often people leave. After all, everyone leaves at some point.
It is now almost 6pm and my parents walk in and ask what I would like to do for dinner. I say I have no preference, not really having any appetite at all. Twenty minutes later my mom walks in to tell me they decided on Papa Johns, one of my favorite places for pizza, yet I don’t feel any emotion towards it this time. She also says I need to stop living in my room and to come to the living room. After laying in bed for another ten minutes I hear my dad yell at me because I didn’t come out, and I literally slide off of my bed. I walk into the living room and sit on the couch, only a few minutes before our food got delivered. Pizza and bread sticks, such a healthy dinner I know. I ate two slices of pizza and two and a half bread sticks, drinking water about every two bites. I finished eating and felt my test get tight the second my parents said “You can’t eat like that if you aren’t going to exercise, you don’t want to gain more weight than you already have.”. I quietly get up and walk to the bathroom, kneel on the floor and start to cry, knowing I am not going to be strong enough to fight this feeling. I sit there, hoping maybe this feeling will go away, but knowing realistically that will not happen. I purge three times before I start to feel too lightheaded to be able to do it one last time.
Once I leave the bathroom I go right back to bed. Not surprising, I know. I wish I wasn’t born so that I wouldn’t have to deal with life. I watch everyone around me being productive and making something of themselves, as I try and repeatedly fail, wondering if there will be a time when I will actually succeed. I am numb, and I know that this means if I self harm, its not going to hurt nearly as bad. I don’t have the energy to get up and do it, so instead I just continue to lay on my bed, staring once again at a blank coral wall. I didn’t end up falling asleep until 2am, so I basically stared at a wall for way too long.
Today I went to work, although I haven’t brought myself to eat anything yet today. I don’t necessarily feel hungry, just having a desire to eat out of boredom, which I refuse to do right now. I don’t know if I am more upset and scared of myself for what happened yesterday and now slightly today, or scared of what the people I actually respect are going to say to me about it. I can’t be that worried, what I am doing isn’t that bad, I know it could be much worse than just this. I think I am more bothered by the fact I once again broke a promise to myself, and I hate breaking promises more than words can describe, especially if it is to another person.
I keep thinking about this: Does god have a plan for us? Does everything happen for a reason? Honestly, I feel like god is punishing me for something that I don’t even realize I did however, I know that’s not how god works. If anyone is punishing me, I’m punishing myself. If I could manage to let go of my control issues, life would probably be easier, however I don’t foresee that happening over night. Everything feels fake right now and I honestly wish it would stay like this so I don’t have to deal with the fact that life is real, as dumb as that sounds. Everything sucks pretty bad when everything actually feels real. Not really sure if this dissociating thing is necessarily good or bad, so I am just going to continue to kind of ignore it when it happens. I guess this is just one more feeling that I am really good at ignoring. Although around 1am last night, while staring at my wall I actually let myself feel a little bit of sadness and let myself cry for a few minutes. I think that little bit was what finally chilled me out enough that I fell asleep. Everyone says that they see I have a lot of sadness inside, and I’m not really sure how they see that. They’re not wrong, but do I really show all of this so clearly? Can everyone read me like a book?