MY BED IS HELL
Yet I am practically never out of it.
When I wake up (too early, always) I keep my eyes closed. Heroically closed.
I push the plugs of blu-tac further into my ears. It might be possible to dodge the bullet...but once you've see the time, and it's after 8 am, then you're fully awake, bolt awake, fucking well awake no matter what.
Hopelessly, and knowing it's hopeless, I pretend that it's still possible to enjoy the "little pleasures" of lazing in bed...finding that cooler bit of sheet, turn that pillow,over ...stick a foot out into the cold, just so you can have the "little pleasure" of feeling it warm up again ...but it's all over, that kind of little pleasure... the pleasure is just altogether too little.
Waking self says: we used to have more fun, didn't we? Or at least a little fun. And we used to have things to do, too...
Waking self gets going and reminds me, just in case I've forgotten overnight, that people I've loved are, if not actually dead, just not very interested anymore.
No "accomplishments" for ten years.
No job whatsoever for nearly two years.
My life doesn't have anything approaching the dignity and meaning of a cat's life, or a dog's ...
And then comes this "MY GOD!" thing, the bolts of horror, the "oh God it wasn't meant to be like this but it IS! IT IS LIKE THIS! IT IS! OH GOD! OH MY GOD!
Shock, panic, desolation every single fucking morning - no amount of repetition makes these feelings more tolerable or even more familiar.
And the horror of this bed business is that the worse I feel about being in bed, the harder it is to get the fuck out of bed.
I have to go out to get food and booze and some pills if I am lucky. But I always want to get back into my bedroom as fast as possible despite my quite conscious hatred towards my bed and bedroom.
This appalling determination I've got to stay put in my dismal bed, even though I hate it...
Anti-depressants do nothing. Dex does, but I've just run out.
Is this anything anyone else has, and what can I do? It is insane but I CANNOT HELP IT and soon it will be just too late to start life again, even if I want to....
The only thing that I regularly look forward to - the high point of each day - is knowing that I'll eventually be asleep again. I love the ten minutes or so of falling asleep at night...if only one could be sort of semi asleep like that for longer ...
Yet I am practically never out of it.
When I wake up (too early, always) I keep my eyes closed. Heroically closed.
I push the plugs of blu-tac further into my ears. It might be possible to dodge the bullet...but once you've see the time, and it's after 8 am, then you're fully awake, bolt awake, fucking well awake no matter what.
Hopelessly, and knowing it's hopeless, I pretend that it's still possible to enjoy the "little pleasures" of lazing in bed...finding that cooler bit of sheet, turn that pillow,over ...stick a foot out into the cold, just so you can have the "little pleasure" of feeling it warm up again ...but it's all over, that kind of little pleasure... the pleasure is just altogether too little.
Waking self says: we used to have more fun, didn't we? Or at least a little fun. And we used to have things to do, too...
Waking self gets going and reminds me, just in case I've forgotten overnight, that people I've loved are, if not actually dead, just not very interested anymore.
No "accomplishments" for ten years.
No job whatsoever for nearly two years.
My life doesn't have anything approaching the dignity and meaning of a cat's life, or a dog's ...
And then comes this "MY GOD!" thing, the bolts of horror, the "oh God it wasn't meant to be like this but it IS! IT IS LIKE THIS! IT IS! OH GOD! OH MY GOD!
Shock, panic, desolation every single fucking morning - no amount of repetition makes these feelings more tolerable or even more familiar.
And the horror of this bed business is that the worse I feel about being in bed, the harder it is to get the fuck out of bed.
I have to go out to get food and booze and some pills if I am lucky. But I always want to get back into my bedroom as fast as possible despite my quite conscious hatred towards my bed and bedroom.
This appalling determination I've got to stay put in my dismal bed, even though I hate it...
Anti-depressants do nothing. Dex does, but I've just run out.
Is this anything anyone else has, and what can I do? It is insane but I CANNOT HELP IT and soon it will be just too late to start life again, even if I want to....
The only thing that I regularly look forward to - the high point of each day - is knowing that I'll eventually be asleep again. I love the ten minutes or so of falling asleep at night...if only one could be sort of semi asleep like that for longer ...
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