mercurial scribe

One can safely assume I’m not in a great state.

I’m currently living on a diet of Coke and sunflower seeds. My activities are exclusively researching for a few articles I’m querying online and watching rather bad daytime television with the occasional stint of a Halo 2 campaign. Sylvia Plath would be shaking her head upon hearing my inner monologue and telling me to lighten up. Granted it took half of the month to pass before I hit the infamous May blues. For those of you who don’t know, May tends to have the highest suicide rate of the year, especially among we bipolar mentally interesting people. Something about the brain being unable to handle the sun and season change, like depressed youths and SSRI antidepressants.

And this is not good timing.

Today makes T-minus 17 days to moving day. It’s the first time we’ll be moving and I won’t be able to help one bit. I can pack the lighter items, label boxes, even point and be bossy on moving day. But I can’t actually lift, pull, push or move anything except my fat ass. I HATE being sidelined.

Also, tomorrow I have a doctor’s appointment which may turn into a acupuncture session. Why is this bad, you say? Because I’m insanely, irrationally terrified of needles.

Top this all off with the fact that I have just swallowed the last pill of Wellbutrin XL in my possession, and of course, we can’t afford the next refill since pretty much all of our financial resources are tapped. Did I mention there’s only a week left of my other prescriptions? Oh yeah, that’s an important little detail, isn’t it?

So why write about it? I don’t know. I really don’t. It seems necessary somehow. I have to write about it if I’m not to drill a hole in my head to relieve the pressure. The words don’t come easily, but it’s all I can do to keep myself out of the cuckoo’s nest - pound the keys until at some point, I feel even the slightest bit better.

Judith Guest said “…Depression is not sobbing and crying and giving vent, it is plain and simple reduction of feeling…People who keep stiff upper lips find that it’s damn hard to smile.”

This is the depression I dread. Next will come the apathy, then the deep and untouchable numbness, the kind of numbness that hurts because you know you should feel. Like a phantom limb or a lost loved one… there should be something to move you, to stimulate, to feel and yet, there’s nothing there. Nothing left to feel. i really hate that stage, which is why I’m trying my best to stay in the nervous energy state. It sucks, I hate it, but nearly anything is better than the Deep. ANYTHING.