Keeping it together feels more difficult lately. I know I'm running a fine line by not being on antidepressants, but I know I'm just trading one kind of unhappiness for another. I'm not me when I'm on antidepressants, not entirely. I feel detached enough as it is, and I found that sensation just increases with medication. But is it better to suffer through and have a mix of dark and light or live with the detached grey that came with antidepressants. Maybe on a different medication, things will be different, better. I have no way of knowing until I try. I just don't know if I see the point in trying.
Okay, no scratch that. I can see the points for trying, but I feel unmotivated to do anything about it. I'm starting to feel peripheral in my own life again, ghostly, half here. For most people that usually inspires the drive to do something about it. I just feel sad and tired. I can feel the part of me that's frustrated and downright angry at my lack of action, but even that anger can't get me to drag my feet any faster. I'm doing what I can with what I've got. I'm keeping up my visits to the Good Doctor and I'm trying my best to keep my head on straight, to remember... to remember who I am and why I am where I am right now. The decisions I've made, why I made them. I check and re-check myself, trying not to let doubt consume me. It feels like I'm still putting myself back together. I never thought it would take this long, but apparently the damage done by previous relationships and my own neglect have left me more splintered than I thought.
There's nothing for me to do but keep moving. I can't look back. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming... Sharks die if they stop moving. Is that a fact? I remember hearing that when I was young, but maybe it's crap, like dogs can't look up. I want to sleep, forever. I know I can't let myself do that. I have to pull myself from one day to another. If it keeps being too difficult to bear... well, maybe it is time to go on medication again. If only to tide me over until I can see the point again.
Okay, no scratch that. I can see the points for trying, but I feel unmotivated to do anything about it. I'm starting to feel peripheral in my own life again, ghostly, half here. For most people that usually inspires the drive to do something about it. I just feel sad and tired. I can feel the part of me that's frustrated and downright angry at my lack of action, but even that anger can't get me to drag my feet any faster. I'm doing what I can with what I've got. I'm keeping up my visits to the Good Doctor and I'm trying my best to keep my head on straight, to remember... to remember who I am and why I am where I am right now. The decisions I've made, why I made them. I check and re-check myself, trying not to let doubt consume me. It feels like I'm still putting myself back together. I never thought it would take this long, but apparently the damage done by previous relationships and my own neglect have left me more splintered than I thought.
There's nothing for me to do but keep moving. I can't look back. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming... Sharks die if they stop moving. Is that a fact? I remember hearing that when I was young, but maybe it's crap, like dogs can't look up. I want to sleep, forever. I know I can't let myself do that. I have to pull myself from one day to another. If it keeps being too difficult to bear... well, maybe it is time to go on medication again. If only to tide me over until I can see the point again.