Running on Fumes

I'm worn out and exhausted.

My day today would have qualified as a "long, draining, stressful day" for anyone not suffering from an illness. It was just extremely hard for me to carry through it all today.

During a brief period I did have to sit and reflect I was doing some of my reading on depression and I had a moment where I was almost screaming because I found someone I could relate to in a book through a personal testimony. The author writes:

Unless you are rich, and can convalesce in a sanatorium estate, you have to keep going when you're depressed. That means phone calls, appointments, errands, holidays, family, friends, and colleagues. For me, this is where things got tangled. Depression brought me to a new rationing of resources: for every twenty-four hours I got about three, then two, then one hour worth of life reserves- personality, conversation, motion. I had to be frugal while I was hustling through a day, because when I ran out of reserves, I lost control of what I said. 


To a sense, that's me. I only really have a few good hours every day, and most of the time they're used up by noon and I either need to sleep to regain myself or pray and meditate a really long time. Nights are especially hard. That's when I want to be out. To be active. To enjoy myself. To have fun.

But, I in a sense, don't have the energy or the patience or the desire. Even though I know that is what is best for me, I cannot bring myself to do it. I would rather sleep or sit and cry.

When I run out of my own "life reserves", I lose control not only of what I say, but what I do. I have had crying spells in public. I sometimes start to shake. I don't really know what to expect. And any little wrong thing someone can do at that time can set me off. It's not their fault. They're innocent, mostly. But, my depression blows everything way out of proportion.

If you want to see me at my best, talk to me in the mornings- preferably before lunch. I seem to go downhill after that as I lose desire, interest, patience, etc. as the day goes on and my supply of hope and optimism drains.

My tank is still running on fumes, the needle is at the "E"and I only get some fumes every time I sleep. I really hope we can get this figured out this week- me, my counselor, and my psychiatrist as we move forward and try to figure out what really is best for my recovery, and if a new trial on a new medication is the right solution.

Please do keep the prayers and encouragement coming. Please. I appreciate it. Whether it seems like I recognize it or not, I do mean to. And every little thing that someone does to help is a tremendous booster and aide to me. Whether you realize it or not.