Okay, this one’s not about depression. This is about how I am a mighty tool.
I am losing my grip on reality more every day. My dreams become my memories, my real memories fade and seem like stories I’ve written or wished for. I upset my boyfriend asking if he has seen or done things, when we’ve done them together and I have just forgotten. But the sun is shining today, so hey.
Last night I punched my ear in my sleep, where a fresh piercing is healing, and made it bleed, waking myself up. Somehow I manage to live full days in my sleep, getting no rest but instead acting exactly as I do when I’m awake – moving, talking, figuring things out, practising conversations which then never take place because, in my head, I’ve already done them. Last week I stayed at a friend’s house and had about seven wake-ups within dreamland, each time having less and less energy to convey what was going on to her when she walked into the room, still feeling uncertain when I finally woke up for real, and merely giving a brief synopsis of what had been such dramatic and emotive scenes just a few minutes before. I guess I was waiting to wake up again.
I feel like I have so much feeling in me, so much to say to everyone I love, and yet I can’t access it because it ekes its way out in dreams and then I am tired in the day. I haven’t written anything since the last blog because I haven’t had the energy or the interest. I still feel a little void. Counselling starts tomorrow, and I think perhaps it has been such a long wait that I may have nothing to say. We will see. I know it may be wrong to rely on meds and I can’t do it forever, but I have come a long way since October. I still have unresolved issues, but am starting to wonder if that’s just my style.
I want to thank all my friends and family and everyone who has sent me encouragement and support through the past few months. You all do more than your bit. I love you all.