I hope that whatever happens to me and my shitty life that no one will say “She didn’t even try”. I have tried; I’ve tried hard to either fit in or make the best of the shit cards I’ve been dealt.
I eat right; loads of fruit and vegetables, a balanced diet and I only eat chocolate or candy occasionally. I drink almost nothing but water (regularly). I don’t smoke and I hardly ever drink, despite being a former alcoholic and drug addict. I exercise, albeit a conination of power walking and running for 45 minutes a day. I take my happy pills as prescribed and I go to therapy once every 2 weeks. Physically I am healthy; my blood pressure, pulse and cholesterol levels are all comfortably within the normal range (and then some). I left England and left a few demons behind in the process. I am living authentically, not as a transgender woman, but as a woman.
But I am still depressed out of my skull. If sometimes lets up for short periods of time, where I’ll delude myself into thinking that my life is salvageable, but then the wrecking ball known as ‘reality’ hits and knocks down my brief wall of optimism.
I’m very envious of people who can distract themselves from the torment inside their head. My friend and roommate watches YouTube videos all day, or watches anime. I have no interest in either of those things, but I wish something would take my mind off reality for a while. I can’t read books. The information fails to sink in and I can’t follow the story. I can’t even focus enoogh to watch a show anymore and defintely not a movie.
My days consist of drowning out external noises with music, though music often fails to drown out my thoughts. I go out and run/walk for a bit at night, mainly to help me sleep. If I have therapy of an appointment with csre management at the clinic I attend, that can consume me for an entire day. I like to cook, but it isn’t always worth it just for me and I feel like I’m in the wqy if I use the kitchen too much.
Sometimes I feel completely empty, which is as bad as any pain. Other times I’ll cry to myself, or I’ll go and lock myself in the bathroom for a while so my crying doesn’t bother or trigger anyone else here. The suicidal thoughts are constantly there. I know how I’m going to do it and I visualize it in my head over and over. I find it comforting to imagine dying.
All I wanted was to be normal and to have a normal life. But there is nothing left that I want that’s actually within reach. I’m just taking up space, and oxygen. I’m so insanely sick and tired of hurting.