It’s a powerful, complex mixture of antidepressants, benzos and sleeping pills.
It’s weeks of waiting to find out side effects, withdrawal symptoms and maybe needing to start all over… again.
It’s baring my soul to a counselor, diving into painful childhood memories then needing to find another because we just don’t mesh.
It’s being unable to work, but feeling “lazy” because I also don’t have children.
It’s time passing by with too few accomplishments.
It’s caring too much and not caring at all.
It’s like right now… 7 a.m., eyes burning, head pounding, panic escalating, no sleep at all yet because the sleeping pill didn’t work… again.
It’s finally falling asleep. Peace! Just kidding… then it’s the recurring nightmares, clenching my teeth and sometimes scratching my face.
It’s sleeping too much or not enough.
It’s no rest, whether awake or asleep.
It’s wanting, needing to live my life, but feeling incapable of taking a shower.
It’s dreams on hold, pressing in, but feeling too empty to care.
It’s all or nothing.
It’s feeling like a disappointment… again.
It’s having tense, painful muscles. Always.
It’s begging my brain to let me socialize with friends, to be denied… again.
It’s agonizing over what those friends think about me when I have to cancel… again.
It’s hopelessness, guilt, exhaustion, racing thoughts, pounding heart… all rolled together in a vicious cycle.
It’s being so thankful for an understanding husband, but feeling so bad for adding to his stress.
It’s being paranoid about others and second-guessing myself, but feeling powerless to stop.
It’s knowing others don’t understand, think I’m just weak and don’t have enough faith.
It’s a panic attack ruining… everything.
It’s knowing the goal of the right combination of pills isn’t to get high or “feel good,” but to just feel like me.
It’s looking irresponsible because I can’t keep that commitment… again.
It’s simply someone knocking on the door to deliver a package, but triggering so much more.
It’s feeling a sense of dread, even though it’s a beautiful day.
It’s hard to be vulnerable, so it’s putting on a smile and saying, “I’m just fine.” Again.
It’s praying for a miracle, but knowing it may always be this way and having to accept that.
It’s knowing despite all of this, I am still blessed.
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I am 42, from Alabama, married to a wonderful man, and living with Borderline Personality Disorder, Dependent Personality Disorder, Double Depression, multiple anxiety disorders, and infertility. I want to use my experiences to help others know they are not alone.
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