>And day. But that was yesterday. Today is just gray. Very, very gray. I have been feeling really awful since the doctor’s last week, and on Wednesday I managed to damage my leg somehow and have been hobbling in pain ever since. It’s times like these that I just want to crawl into bed and never come out again. I get so tired of feeling lousy. Sometimes it takes everything I have to keep a positive attitude and sense of humor. But if I didn’t, if I couldn’t, I would be lost. I don’t know that I could come back from the black hole one more time. So I am very aware of it all the time, because I have to be able to recognize the spiral before I reach my Rubicon.

Rubicon. I loved that show. They talked about Rubicon during the show, but I didn’t really understand it until I looked it up. Point of no return, is basically what it means. You’ve gone too far to ever get back, and the only way left is forward. When it’s forward into the black hole, you NEVER want to reach that Rubicon. Never.

How many people have been lost because they did, and there was no way back for them? That point where you absolutely believe that the only way to end the pain is to end yourself. I’ve been there. It wasn’t anyplace I ever want to be ever again. I was lucky I was saved. A lot of people aren’t.

It scares me, I admit it. I never want to feel that way again. It was worse than the worst thing I could imagine. Like I was being ripped apart by pain. Not physical pain. Emotional pain. Physical pain is different. I think it can reach a point where the only way to end it is to end yourself, but there are lots of pain interventions, and someone usually is aware you are suffering. Not so much with psychic pain. It’s much easier to keep it hidden. To put on the ‘good’ face. I’m fine, everything is fine, it’s all fine. I’ll tell a joke and make you laugh and you’ll believe it’s fine, too.

Life can be very hard. It’s harder for some than for others, and it’s really sad that so many people aren’t saved. Don’t get a rescue, an intervention of life-saving caring. Serious depression needs all-out emergency-room trauma-center type care, but I’m not sure that’s really available in the same way it is for physical trauma. No one will call the ambulance when they can’t see that you are dying emotionally. You have to be either very lucky and have someone be there and understand at the exact right moment, or somehow find the ability and strength within yourself to call your own ambulance, metaphorically speaking. Not really that likely when you are surrounded by the darkness. Life can be very hard. Very. I try to keep on my toes about it.

>
Having a little introspective moment here. Something occurred to me just now. I can be a real jerk sometimes. Consciously, I don’t mean to be, it’s just who I am, giving people a hard time, being a pain in the ass. However hard I try to convince myself that I am an okay person, just a bit strangely peculiar, slightly eccentric, but not malicious, I always end of feeling like shit about myself. Anyway…….it just dawned on me, I think I am subconsciously trying to drive people away before they leave on their own. I’m kind of surprised that I didn’t really think of that before. I’ve lost everyone I cared about in my life, from the time I was very young and my cousin and I lived with our grandparents. Her father came and took her away. She was my idol, a few years older, and helped me cope with a difficult world. Then, my mother wanted me to live at home when I started school. I was terrified of my alcoholic father and dreaded it, but had to go. From then on, life was hell. Then my grandfather died and my grandmother went to live with my aunt. This was all before I was nine. More losses followed, with the worst being the loss of my granddaughter, and then my husband, who left me and later died. I never see my children, and our relationship is sometimes very rocky, sometimes okay. I always have in the back of my mind that I just need to be alone all the time, because I am so bad with people and don’t deserve to have friends. So, the driving them away. I think I am one strangely peculiar, eccentric, crazy, and broken person. Mostly broken, and broken beyond repair. I know. I was in therapy for years after my husband left. Some things can’t be fixed, and I think I am one of them. I used to just think I was scatter-brained, dense, too stupid to know what was wrong with me that made everyone dislike me, but now I know that I am all of those as well as really, truly, broken. That’s it for today’s episode of self-indulgent feeling sorry for myself-ness. And a big boo-hoo, let’s all feel sorry for Jean from the world. Shit.

>Well, I think it is…..interesting that all I have to do is write about being depressed, and the depression gets better. Even if no one ever reads this, the act of putting my feelings on paper seems to make a big difference for me. It’s a good thing.

>I’ve noticed than I am getting more and more depressed since Simon died. I don’t think it’s because of that, but because he was such an in-your-face animal that he took up a lot of my time and energy. There was always something going on with him around. And now there isn’t. It’s really shown me how alone I am, how empty my life has become since I got fibro. Things I didn’t have time to think about when he was around. I’ve gotten more and more immobile because of the pain walking causes, and there’s my innate fear of being out in public by myself. That has been a life-long issue. I need to think about this. What to do about it, how to change my life some more. I’m feeling really, really sad, and I need to fix that. I just want to cry all the time, and that can’t be good. I don’t want to up my meds, because that just masks problems, it doesn’t help to understand or make them better. I don’t know what to do just yet, but I’m hopeful that I can figure it out.