Well, I believe I’m depressed again. That’s why I haven’t been keeping up with the blog. But I’m back now because not writing here is all part of isolating, which only makes things worse.
I finally finished the preventive medicine rotation. And I’m never going back to that, thankfully. I really wasn’t expecting to not like it as much as I did, but oh well…I learned something new about myself, I guess?
And depression, well, it’s been kicking my ass. In a weird way. I’m sleeping a bit more than usual, which is the norm for me when I’m depressed. However, what’s really bugging me this time around is anxiety. It’s really screwing up with my head. And that’s why I say the depression is kind of weird this time around, because I had never really felt so on edge during the previous episodes I’ve had.
I’ve found myself thinking about death and suicide all the time again. I’d never before had such a long period of time where I didn’t think about these things, so now that I’m back in that little hole I’m a bit frustrated. But whatever, it’s all part of this thing called DERPession.
So far I’ve had two days where I truly felt I was going to do something. One of them was the day before I saw G last week. I ended up telling her “I don’t know how I made it to today, and now since I didn’t kill myself I have to take the preventive medicine final exam in two days.” She chuckled, and so did I. Priorities, you ask? Yeah, I don’t know what those are anymore.
I had G give me a good slap in the face this last week (figuratively speaking, of course). I was so angry during therapy with her, angry at her and angry at everything, really. I’d given up on everything for the one-hundredth time in my life and was just a bouncing ball of anger. She confronted me, put me back in track. It lasted a few days, but then I had a horrible nightmare that made the shit hit the fan again.
The nightmare was about The Ex, and it felt very real. It was as though these past 4 years had never happened. I was back in the abuse…him touching me, blah blah blah. The horrible part was how it felt so real in the dream, how I felt exactly as I did in real life. What I felt was the horrible mix and confusion of having my body react to what he was doing but having my mind going haywire and screaming I DON’T FEEL COMFORTABLE WITH THIS, THIS FEELS ‘BAD’, GET AWAY FROM ME. I don’t know if anyone who’s never experienced this could ever truly understand just how horrible that feels and the deep shame you feel afterwards.
And so, I woke up feeling an intolerable level of shame, I was anxious and I felt unreal. I felt I wasn’t part of the “real” outside world, but actually part of the world encompassing the nightmare and that that was reality, not what was around me. Another horrible feeling. It was my last day of the preventive medicine rotation, and I had tears streaming down my face as I was getting ready in the morning, knowing that I had to go to clinics but not knowing how the hell I was going to make it. I felt so horrible I didn’t even know if I was capable of driving in that state.
But somehow I made it. And somehow, I was able to distract myself at clinics. Then later at night I was afraid of going to sleep for fear of having another nightmare. Thankfully, I didn’t.
I swear, this had never happened to me before. What does it all mean? I tried to manage that day after the nightmare on my own, without contacting G or R, but shortly after midday I realized I needed help. And so I texted G for help. But she didn’t answer. Ouch. She probably saw the message but forgot to answer or whatever. It still hurts, though.
I don’t want that to happen again. Ever.