Where to start ? You already know my suffering; complex grief, Bipolar Disorder, PTSD, and so many other glitches and random ailments. I am exhausted already just listing this. In fact, I am exhausted. I live exhausted, and it is hard living. So much so that I am dropping to my knees here and asking you, dear Reader, to help me. Help me, please, to remember the tools I have to deal with this inertia, to loosen the chains and push off the weight that nails me to this couch. This horrible lack of will to dress, to eat, to clean-even the inability to step out into the glorious sunshine .
. How can it be depression ? I smile at every person I see, I am quick to tell my friends ,”I’m fine, thank you…” Then I come home, too tired to even get out of the car. When I finally do come in, my happy dogs meet me hoping that this day I will walk them before sleepiness overtakes me. Nine times out of ten the couch sucks me in, and they dejectedly lie down also, with a sigh of frustration.
. What will become of me if I don’t get over this? I see myself buried under unwashed laundry and dishes, unopened mail and empty cookie packages. As the sun lovingly slants thru wrinkled curtains onto a scene of utter disarray, spilled paint, dirty brushes, half filled cups of blue paintwater. Am I still in here? Will I ever be out there again, in the real world?
. My blog here languishes, as does all my other efforts to market my art and I just want to SCREAM and PUNCH something. :SOMETHING, ANYTHING TO SHATTER THIS GLASS PRISON I’m in!!!
‘ I am spent, withdrawing inward, tired of writing such hard thoughts, such bleak prospects. I believe I am “mad” in a way. Mad as a Hatter, locked in Wonderland .
. Thank you for listening to myntpoPo? oops! I dozed off…