Not long ago, I suffered from a depression. Last year, most of it, anyway, was depression and a struggle to get out of it. Medication helped at first, then a lot of rest, fresh air, sun and exercise. Around September I was starting to feel like my regular self.
When my mother passed away, in October, I was sad but didn’t feel depressed in the same way as earlier. In fact, I felt better than I expected to feel. But that started to wear off after a few months. In February I noticed that the old lack of motivation and energy had started to return. Also had more trouble sleeping again. In March I felt really depressed at times but I hoped it would not last. Then at the end of March and into the start of this month, I noticed how the lack of motivation increased at the same time as I had more trouble sleeping. I started to worry about going deeper into another depression.
So, today, I went to see a doctor, instead of waiting too long to get some help, like I did the first time. It was good that I did. After talking to the doctor I started to feel less worried about the depression developing further. Now, I have a place to go for support and some treatment that will probably help me avoid more problems. I had forgotten to send in the proper forms at the time of my ASD diagnosis, but now I will sort it out.
The past week was a tragedy. Ok, perhaps it’s pathetic to feel sad about the loss of a car but I do. Feel sad. I liked to drive. The car worked very well up until the weekend before last. Then the cold came and first it seemed only the battery needed charging. Then after a few days there was a strange sound coming from the engine. Not all the time but it kept returning and the last day it was there all the time the engine was running. Still I could not imagine it being a serious problem. Not until he car suddenly died. Then it was over.
To repair would cost a lot more than what the car is worth and that’s not an option due to my situation. So, no more driving.
Of course, for many years before I learned to drive I got by with walking, biking and public transportation but it will be hard to adjust back to that now. Being able to drive was freedom – pure and simple. I will miss that freedom a lot.
Valentine’s Day was on Tuesday. I didn’t get many greetings but a few. Sent out only a few too, and only one card. In the evening I had some fun seeing a friend for a chat.
On Wednesday I worked from home. Went to get a much-needed hair cut, so now I no longer look like a heavy metal fan or hippie anymore. Now I look like a respectable person.
It snowed a lot on Wednesday so I had some to shovel. Wouldn’t be much of a chore if it weren’t for the pain from my kidney stones. I know I ought to see a doctor about it but I’m still hoping it will be ok by itself somehow.
I know that’s stupid but I still remember how I spent years trying to recover from my leg problems without the doctors being able to do much about it. In the end they healed without any doctor even knowing why and without any help from the treatment.
Today I feel tired and should probably try to be productive and get some of my writing done. Make some effort to solve this limbo I find myself in. I’ve almost spent a year at the office and although I’ve made some results I’m still without employment and not getting any younger. The more time I spend out of work the harder it will be to find someone willing to employ me.
What still gets me to get up in the morning is the feeling of not having any other option than to keep on trying. Keep on living. Keep seeing my few friends and keep hope alive. It gets harder to do though.
In a few weeks there’s a convention in town that I will probably visit. Maybe it will give me some new ideas about how to move forward.
Yes, I have no life. The post I wrote today about my weekend ought to prove it to you all.
I am happy even without having a life. It could be worse. I could be dead. That would be terrible. Probably.
Still feeling sick/ill and having pains in my stomach. Should go see a doctor but I’m scared of what they might find. That makes no sense, I know, but that’s how it is. Every time I’ve seen a doctor has been the beginning of some extended period of treatments, pain and suffering. The problems with my legs lasted for years and it was not thanks to the treatment by the doctors that they finally healed. Nobody even knew why they healed. Much less did they know why the problems started. So I am scared. I know I have to go sooner or later but I’m still scared. I have no need for more problems right now.