Kidding Myself

Last week I tried to check out of my life. I just couldn't deal. I pretended, even here in this blog, that it was healthy.



It was not.



I am not sad. Nor can I muster happiness. I am empty.



I feel like I'm slogging through soup. Really thick soup. All the time. I do the bare minimum to get through my life.



I put on a bright face with people. Remember, I'm the ultimate chameleon - I can be whoever you want me to be. And I do that very, very well. If you aren't one of my readers you may never know how profoundly depressed I am.



I look for a trigger for this bout. And there is none. And that sucks. I have nothing to relate this to - nothing to work through. (not to say there aren't things to work through).



I just really can't manage my life right now. I flirted with the idea of asking my therapist to commit me. Seriously. I just want to run. To escape everything.



I am so disengaged from my life. I look around and I see people laugh and I wonder - how can they do that? Not to say I don't laugh, I do. But it is hollow.



I wasn't like this when I was married. Not to say I was happy, I avoided any kind of negative feeling. I felt nothing. I wonder now if that was better.



But as both my therapist and S have said - you can't unknow something after you know it. I can't undo the self-exploration, I can't be ignorant of my feelings again.



But damn. This sucks.



I have worked so hard to get, and I have gotten, the love and approval of others. This is a double edged sword. I feel like an impostor in my life. That and I have forgotten, or failed, to get the approval of myself.



Last night I stood in a room full of people who like me. And I cried. Not out loud. I wanted to crawl under the carpet.



I am going to close by asking you not to worry about me. I know this won't work. You will. So I will only ask forgiveness and understanding if I cancel on you. I'm trying really hard to get through something and I'm just doing the best I can.


Take care, dear readers.