When you are depressed, you don’t feel like doing things. When you don’t do things, it makes you depressed.
Bad weekend. The breakup is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Worse than the cancer. Aside from the sadness and the broken dreams and the realization that the rest of my life isn’t going to play out as I’d expected, there’s an incredible hit to the self-esteem and self-confidence. When you’ve essentially been dumped after ten years, no matter how amicably, there’s no amount of reassurance that can make you stop asking yourself “what the fuck is wrong me that made him need so badly to get rid of me?”
Add to that the fact that the second worst thing that’s ever happened to me has begun to transpire just as I’m dealing with thing number one and you have my current really bad state of mind. The “Mom with dementia” thing. This will eventually have a bigger and longer term impact than thing number one.
I could have dealt with either of these things individually. I could have coped. But both at once is just too fucking much. I feel hopeless, and I find that I don’t have anything to look forward to but misery for the next few years. And I’ll be experiencing it all alone.
Shrink? Anti-depressants don’t seem appropriate.
Help keep me focused and keep after me to keep on living my life. I used the cancer and the year of unemployment in Charlotte as a catalyst to chnage my life. I hope I can do it again.