seven

Been noticing classic signs of depression and anxiety. Anx: I seem to have stress tummy again. Trying to isolate/identify possible external causes but things seem otherwise the same so yeah. I think it might be stress about moving back into the house in Toronto. Or leaving my friends andcetera. Dep: am bored. Restless. Search for an hour for something to watch or listen to and start many, abandon, nothing holds or really engages my attention to begin with. Torpor. But this from someone who yesterday a) left the house dressed well with makeup and b) went to a bookstore and then cafe and then even talked briefly to a guy who played banjo in said cafe and then c) went to last minute meet up at late at night early morning having to dress and makeup again. But I feel it as a form of the wandering. The empty, the lonely, the dark streets at night to pass the time to pass the time. And almost 30.

Read an old journal from high school, the June before university. The same shit as now: I feel bad. This is my theory as to why I feel bad. Maybe it'll get better. I think maybe I'm getting better. Well, I feel shitty again. This is my new theory. Why am I so...? Look, my childhood. Can't stop thinking about x. I hate myself. Want to die. Feeling a little better. I should do x. X will solve some but not all problems. It will or will not get better, probably soon. I hope. I give up.

Only, I could wake up early then, and also concentrate on tasks. So it seems like I've gone backwards in ten years but I can't think that way. Things seem dark. Also I beat myself up a lot in that journal. As I still do. I wonder why.

Oh and bingeing again. The sly way. But swallowing too much. During the day and at night. Every day. Feels desperate. I'm worried.

six

Hey it's almost three years later.

So the mistake I always seem to make is thinking that I have any control in my mental wellbeing. I've been eating healthy, feeling okay for a couple weeks. It's spring, there's more light. Been looking forward to wearing some new warmer weather clothes, sandals, shopping, etc. Been going to the farmer's market the past 4(?) weeks every Tuesday. It's Tuesday today and I am just so fucking sick and tired. I want to sleep all day. Fuck you, depression. No, seriously, fuck you.

So am I even bipolar anymore? Doc doesn't think so. Misdiagnosis. 8 years of it. Well, christ.

I learned this year that nobody knows anything about anything. Mental health-wise specifically but in lots of other places. It's not so much the doctors and scientists, maybe their only fault is pretending they do actually know what's going on. Truth is that things are so big, so much bigger and bigger than we think. Just balloons inside balloons big big sky cosmos big. And so so many smalls in the big, that all we have are best guesses.

Current best guess on my head: atypical depression (treatment resistant), ADHD. Fun fun fun in the sun!

It's just that it's been so long - 13 years - so WTF, you know?

Can't write.
Can't sleep.
Can't wake up.
Can't hold a job.
No consistency (see market day above).
Unreliable (been working/unable to work on a resume for L for weeks).
Can't concentrate.
Can't read.
Can't can't can't cannot cannot.

Oh, there are things I can do. And I do them. And I have the structure of a life, the supports. Semi-comfort. Love. I mean, Amen! Like really. But not good enough.

Constant beating of myself up. Can I ever not be a liability, something to be carried? Capital S Someone? Up-fucking-hill, you know? Just always.