assesment

Last week my doctor raised my Lamictal to 150 mg. He keeps telling me that things will magically improve once I get to 200 mg and now I'm starting to believe him. I still feel as blue as a plate, but I have been able to do the dishes, I find pleasure in little things, and I can make the bed. These are big steps. I still don't have the energy to do the laundry or smile regularly but today I imagine it will come.

I'm extremely depressed though. I don't see the point to life, in fact I hate living, but I have no other option but to continue. When everything hurts so bad it is hard to keep going. My mantra is "keep moving forward" and I have been reminding myself of that constantly. Things feel blank yet muddled. I feel like I am standing in a white room full of people and screaming as loud as I can but no one hears me. I ache and ache with it. I feel nauseas all the time. I think it is self induced as I constantly imagine and long to wretch out my insides and cut out this disease. I know its a matter of synapse and seretonin, but I wish it were simpler.

I do find comfort in simple things like the way it feels when I start to fall asleep; that restful I can feel my heart beat feeling, getting slightly lost in a book, going window shopping when I can get myself out the door, and making the bed with our soft white fluffy blanket. I have also been loving little things like my pillow, all my books, the dogs sleeping next to me, the feeling of his skin, and the smell of the lotion I put on before bed.

I can't wait to get cooking again, creating again, feeling excited about something (anything) again. I used to cook and listen to sultry old music and drink wine while waiting for him to come home, I miss that. I miss feeling ok/stable and like I won't do something rash. I miss feeling comfortable in my own skin. I miss laughing (really laughing). I miss feeling like Catherine.

I fake things a lot because I think I have to. I fake in emails, in relationships, in social situations. I smile even if I'm thinking the worst thought because I see everyone else smiling, I laugh when they laugh. I ask questions because they asked the question. I hide things, hide that I am in the cave, hide that I am chained and being beaten by my demon. I think I am good at hiding and I hate that but at the same time need it, otherwise I wouldn't stop crying.

I'm glad I have this place, this soft safe place to tell the truth.