>Quite awhile ago I posted about this book: “Animals in Translation” by Temple Grandin. I just read that HBO has a movie about her. I don’t get HBO, but I look forward to seeing the movie when it gets to Netflix. It was a very interesting book. Here’s a link to the post:
Now to illness. Good old illness. It’s always there, it never goes away. My pills all quit working so I am just doing the sleep when I can thing. Up all night and then sleep till 3pm yesterday, 2:30pm today. But I feel better. Hmmm. Allergies better today, too, but still taking allergy pill.
Sometimes it gets really hard to cope with all of this. My life is about what I can’t do, which is not what I want for myself. I never wanted my illness to be my identity, so I try to keep an interest in other things besides being sick. Politics, religion, humor. But I realize that the inner ever-present anger comes out pretty strongly at times. It’s been that way recently, I know. I’m angry at the world, at the politicians, at religious leaders who use religion to discriminate and even worse. But at heart, what I am really angry at is life. MY life. After my husband left, and I got over that hurdle, my life had such promise. That job I loved, going to the gym, signed up for classes at the local college. There was so much ahead of me. Then I got sick. With illness came more loss, lots of pain, isolation, loss of dreams and hope.
I was at Border’s the other day with a friend. I used to buy books by the armload when I was working. Before that, I would bring home armloads of books from the library, too. Now, no books. Nothing I want. Nothing that catches my eye. I’m never going to have a garden again, so why buy a gardening book? I rarely cook, so I surely don’t need a new cookbook. I don’t do crafts anymore, so no craft books necessary. I have lost hope. I can’t change anything, I can’t fix anything, I have no power over anything. It hit me in Border’s.
I have lost hope. This is it. This is all my life will ever be. Me, here in this little prison box of an apartment, with my invisible cat. Nothing to look forward to, nothing to hope for, nothing to get excited about. This is depression, people, and I haz it. I did not ask for illness, isolation, loneliness, but I have tried my best to accept and cope with it all. Right now I am not succeeding. There is so much to life, and I am missing most of it. At times like this, I just don’t know how to cope anymore. How to be accepting. How to pull myself up by my bootstraps (bootstraps?) and move on. I just can’t do it right now. I miss my life, my job, my husband, my dreams for the future. But they are all gone and I can never get them back.