Right now, I am staring at my computer trying to write 1000 words on Eating and Sleep Disorders in children, when all i want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep.
I have no idea why, but i just want to cry. I can either sleep or write a blog, these 2 things are the only thing that doesn’t involve going outside, that make me feel better. I don’t want to be the person who sleeps 24 hours a day, i don’t want to feel sick to my stomach after i eat something. I just want to be normal. I want to be productive. I want to get my writing flow back. Instead of these things, i am left with these. A big heap of useless shite. I’ve tried motivational videos, I’ve tried cuddles from my dog, I have no idea what will get me out of this depression fog. And the crazy thing is, i don’t know why. I don’t know why i want to cry, i don’t know why i want to die, All i want to do is hide away in my bed. The world just seems too harsh today, too overwhelming, too judgemental. All of this and i haven’t even been outside yet. The only person i’ve spoken to today is my mum, my sister and my other half. I just want it to be over.
I always think that depression will leave you when you’ve learnt all you can from it. I’ve spent 6 years, going to counselling, learning about what caused myself to turn into a monster but nothing has worked. I need to write this essay, but how can I, when all i want to do is cry into the warmth of my duvet. My bed is my sanctuary. It emotionally holds me together. Sometimes the warmth and love of a duvet is the only thing that can make anything better. My tutor told me that depressed people sleep to get away from the world. I somehow find comfort in it, to reminise about the past, and it is nice to not be in control of your dreams. I usually try and analyse them, and it helps a little.
I am just tired of not doing anything. I am tired of writing shit. I am tired of one day being okay, and the next feeling like i want to die. I know I have a purpose, but right now i feel like I’m worthless. Everything i write has no purpose, no structure. But writing and education is who I am. It is where my purpose and my strengths lie. And if i don’t have that, i don’t have anything bar a useless sack of uncontrollable emotions.
It’s a horrible downward spiral, you reject love because you don’t feel as though you deserve it, but then you don’t receive it so it reinforces the thought that you are unloveable. It sounds crazy but the only safe place is my bed and my duvet.
I think i may have to return to my duvet cave.