letting go, and failure...
Today, I feel like a failure.
I saw my psych doc yesterday, and my therapist this morning. Both are pretty worried about me.
I left my therapist's office feeling like a total failure.
I am at this point in my useless life right now, where I can barely function. I go through the motions, mostly in physical and emotional pain.
I am just existing.
I can't even work full time right now, let alone, the part time work I am doing seems to be too much. We talked about that today in my session. I told her I want to stop working, because I am not handling it well, physically or emotionally. But I can't afford to not work. But the stress it is causing me, and the physical difficulties I'm having making it through any day, let alone a work day, make me want to stop. Right now.
And what goes through my mind, consistently, is, I do not want to live like this anymore.
And...I do not want to live.
The failure part comes in because I am not living. I am reduced to someone who needs to be monitored. I can't cope. And on and on.
My session this morning, if things were normal, I would have said was painful. But right now, I am so consumed by my depression, that even the painfulness of my session didn't really touch me. Sounds weird, I know, because I am in great pain. We talked all around my depression, and my suicidal feelings. And when I left, I had "homework", if that's what you want to call it.
Dr K knows I have had a stash of pills at my house. Meds my doc prescribed me that, when I got home with them, I checked to see if they had lactose in them. Which they did. So, I never took them.
So, here they sit.
Anyway, Dr K kept asking me what we were going to do. Yes, we devised a safety plan for me. But, she was also concerned with the pills I have had here at the house. So, my "homework" was to come home, throw them away, and then call her and let her know.
Sad, that I have to call her and check in with her. Sadder, that I can't just be left alone, and keep my pills. Sad, that I am reduced to having to be monitored this way.
So, I threw them away, then called her and left her a message. They are in the garbage. But I really want to go and get them out of the garbage. And I can't guarantee that I won't.
Throwing them away, is like letting go. And I don't know if I want to or am ready to let go. And I told her that, not in so many words. I told her that throwing them away is like losing an option. If they go into the garbage, that option isn't there. I don't have the option to take them if I want to. Which is what she is worried about, I think.
Letting go is scary. You leave your comfort zone, in a way. I have left my comfort zone. And I don't want to. And, honestly, if I want to try and take myself out, I want to have the means readily available.
Which only leaves me angry. And now feeling like I have no control.
Which is not helping my depression.
I need to stop writing now.