In Need of a Reboot
Feeling suicidal lately, which is never a good sign. I get these moments of simply feeling down, depressed, and thoughts of death begin to swirl in my mind. It’s consistent with brief moments of rest. And even when I’m not preoccupied with thoughts of death, they seem to linger in the back of my head. Yes, I’ve told my wife about it and it’s another round of worry. This is the time when my wife becomes very vigilant and I don’t like the strain I put her under. The fact that I put her in this state makes me depressed.
These fucking cycles. One thing spilling into another and vice versa. I am angry and depressed. So, my days have been semi-productive and looping. Therapy in two days. Looking forward to that. Praying for some instructions, interference, and relief.
So, what have I been doing while feeling the death on the doorstep?
Trying to distract myself by planning ahead. Things I can accomplish throughout the day. It gives me some purpose. Gives me something to look forward to. Getting up for work helps, even though, I don’t have the motivation to do so or seem any particular purpose or happiness about it. But, it’s a day that keeps me away from my thoughts and makes me concentrate on things I need to do for other people, completing the requests. I mostly work alone, so there is not much social contact. There are pros and cons to it. But, I like the calm.
Here is how I start my workday by rolling out of bed and dragging my feet to my home office, which is basically the next room over. Lately, however, there have been a few late mornings, starting work 30 to 90 minutes late. Good thing, my employer allows flexible hours. I am still somewhat functional. My brain hasn’t shut down completely yet. It might be simply stalling.
The hours pass quite quickly during workdays and then five o’clock hits and I’m back making friends with death. Truth is, the thought of it throughout the day never ceases, but as I said before, lingers in the back of my head. Sparsely it manages to pop into my front cortex but I manage to push it back to the back of my head. A constant battle.
So, five o’clock strikes, and I set to make dinner, as my wife returns from work around six. Handling a knife is perilous as the thoughts tend to stack up against me. And it’s easy to miss the mark, to miss chopping the carrot and aim for my hand. A slip. I won’t paint the picture of what cruises through my mind but it’s not friendly and kind.
I kiss my wife. I tell her I love her and then I sit somber unrecognizing the flavour of my meal as everything tastes bland. I tell my wife about my thoughts and then an hour turns to two as we sit and catalog my thoughts. A library full of them.
A warning sign blinks red.
They say when you make a plan is when things become real.
So, I try to plan for a different reality. Feed the cat. Sort my office papers. Water the plants. Go for a walk. Comb my hair. Smile.
Two days. I’m counting. A talk with my therapist. A goal to look forward to.
I apologize for my shadows and the gloom.
Yes. I tend to apologize a lot. But that’s a note for another day.