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That Deep, Gaping Hole

Hello, love,

For a little while, the ache simmers in the background, barely noticeable. But inevitably, it ignites again, intent on devouring me whole without mercy.

It feels so weird to feel good. Not in an unsettling way, but because I always feel like I’ll never have a debilitating day again, that whatever I’m doing will keep the avalanche from starting. It’s like I’ve appeared on an island of wellness and can still see the dark island, but can’t imagine being on it. Then, it’s like I get teleported and can’t imagine the good island anymore.

I’ve been a little more self-aware this time around. I noticed a couple of days ago that I had a panic attack that didn’t seem to have a source. It was just a small one, over in a minute or so. Then I had a little episode of that horrible euphoria, like a panic attack but from excitement, not dread. Still extremely unpleasant and unhealthy.

I’ve started avoiding my finances again, mostly because I don’t have any to speak of, but still. I’m avoiding dealing with my bills even though I know they are important. I’m also avoiding meal prepping, which I swore I wouldn’t do like last time. It’s those little warning signs that let me know I’m slipping into dysphoria again, when all I want is to be happy and feel good and be productive.

And yet, it’s like I don’t want that when I get this way. Something in me really wants to be depressed right now. Whenever I think about doing something productive to get my mood up, I feel blocked by thoughts of what I could be doing if I just stayed down.

Part of it is that I haven’t been sleeping well again. I had a few good days, but lately it’s bad again. Yesterday it was so hard to get out of bed because I’d woken up at 4 and been unable to go back to sleep. I lay there staring at the ceiling, feeling frustrated. I could feel something coming on. I wasn’t depressed yet, but it was like a sort of pre-depression hovering at the edges. I managed to haul myself out of bed and had a fairly decent morning, but I kept dipping throughout the day.

Last night I couldn’t sleep for quite a while. I was too anxious to wait to fall asleep, and that clawing feeling inside was too much to sit with. What made it difficult was feeling utterly exhausted but unable to fall asleep. It felt like I was sleepy, but I kept hovering on the edge with my brain on fire and ants under my skin.

I’ve noticed my sleep gets worse when I try to stick to a routine. When my life is regular, my body wants to sleep only a few hours at night and then nap during the day. I know that about myself. I’m trying to build a life around that fact. But my nap yesterday left me feeling exhausted. I’m worried that I’m starting that slow descent into fatigue-madness that gets me every year. When I’m being unhealthy, I stay up until I crash, and then I can at least sleep for several hours straight. I still feel exhausted the next day, but at least it feels deserved. When I feel like I’m working so hard to sleep well and yet it doesn’t pay off, there’s burning frustration on top of the exhaustion, and that feels worse.

I kept trying to reach out and connect with my circle, but everyone was too busy, and I couldn’t have the deep conversation I needed to sort through this. And of course there was the feeling that I shouldn’t bother them anyway, because it’s always the same things bothering me. In any case, I’ve been feeling distant from them. Not only because of the physical distance, but that’s been getting to me, too.

Isolation is a tough thing. I keep longing for my old life, even though I objectively know that I felt like this back then too. Even when I had a million church events to go to, I still had stretches of sucking, gaping emptiness and deep, black melancholy. And I know that I could try to make more friends here. I did try joining a writer’s group, and that was nice for a couple of sessions, but I felt like being myself made me stick out like a sore thumb since everyone else was a senior. I got it in my head that I need to bake every time I go, and since I didn’t have the energy last week, I didn’t.

The group meets again tonight. I’m so embarrassed for skipping last week that I don’t particularly want to go tonight. And so the cycle continues.

Still though, I wish I had a friend nearby that I could actually talk to in person. Someone who doesn’t dismiss my turmoil and can give me a fucking hug. I’m all for learning to be alone and appreciate myself, but damn. I only touch another human being every two or three weeks the last few months. I go days without having a single verbal conversation. I know I did this to myself, and I am usually too anxious to try and do something about it, but still.

Honestly, I am trying, though. I did meet someone that I thought could be my friend. It started long distance, like it is with all my closest friends. After a while, I even met up with him and we had a fun time. But since the meetup things have fizzled, and I have to wonder what happened. I was so starved for touch I might have been a little overboard. I keep playing it over in my head and wishing I’d made different choices.

At the same time, not, because the memory of a hug from someone who seemed to understand and accept me has been keeping me going lately. It’s not about having just any random person. When I have to constantly “be on my best behaviour” to keep things polite with someone who doesn’t really care about the truth of me, it’s so draining that I’d rather just be alone.

In any case, it’s so difficult being in this place where I know I could do something to improve my situation, but being so sure that it’s not going to work for long. This is the cycle that makes my life feel pointless. I’ve achieved a few pretty big goals in the last month, but still the emptiness comes for me. If I’ll be empty whether I stay in bed, binging on junk food and watching TV, or if I try and make something of myself, is there really a point in trying?

I know there’s a point. The point is that I don’t want to be this way forever. I have to believe that these wins are leading me toward something better, even if it feels like the opposite right now. I know my hormones are destined to destroy me once per month, and the seasons are destined to pull me around on a yoyo. I’m destined to absorb emotions from the books I read and the things I watch, and be hypersensitive to everything coming from the people around me. I’m destined to be paranoid and doubt myself. But I know I’m destined to have moments of peace, wellbeing, and connection, too. Even if sometimes it feels fleeting and rare.

I hope things are feeling better for you. At least if nothing else, my writing might help someone one day.

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