How's it going?

I talked to my best friend from college last night and she asked how it was going. I started out by saying the same, but probably worse.

Hell, I know I am worse. My sleeping is effected by all of this. My eating is effected by all of this. I am crying again. There are times when I am filled with such incredible rage for no real reason at all. My face is a complete mess from the broken blood vessels of purging up what I have eaten.

I've taken two 1 mg Xanax pills today plus 450mg of Wellbutrin XL and it feels like the second Xanax is calming me down a bit. I just dyed my hair to rid the grey and made a big mess while doing so. I cleaned it up but everywhere I look in this apartment is another mess. Papers and books and crap piled around for work and bill paying and stuff that needs to be sent out.

I threw out a bag of stuff last night for the man who goes dumpster diving in our apartments' dumpster. He literally climbs in and opens up bags. That is so disgusting and a clear message that you should shred anything with your name, address and any other pertinent information on it.

I am going to start bagging up crap in my bedroom because I cannot wear most of my shoes anymore. I can easily throw out purses and shoes so this guy can take them and do what ever it is he does with the stuff he claims.

Last night I cleaned out another area and shredded lots of medical things that needed to be shredded. I feel caged in my apartment and the walls are closing in. I want stuff out of my apartment. All these stupid cutesy knickknacks and crap must go. No one ever comes here, except delivery people and maybe two or three other people a year.

My apartment is not a "let's hang out and do something fun" place. I used to feel safe here but I don't anymore. The agitation continues to build and my anger (at what?) is growing. I keep punishing myself, maybe because I can't be the good teacher I used to be. I can't hold a thought like I used to be able to do. I can't generate any more fake happiness until it's time to go to work on Tuesday.

I think Denver Refashionista (a reader and great blogger in her own right) is correct in saying that controlling one's breath can be helpful in trying to stay calm. I will try to focus on the breaths I take and hope that there is some way through this mess. I do not know why it is here now, why this depression is so deep, why it involves such deep anger and self-punishment.

I feel like a freak compared to others. I remember the last two times I clearly felt this dead inside: the first was in 2000 when I was starting a new job after having left my husband, moved, and started divorce proceedings, and the second was in December of 1999 before I left him for good. I moved out and stayed in a hotel for a while without telling other people. When I returned home I was doing so only out of financial necessity. That Christmas I recall seeing my parents shopping at the mall. I looked and felt like this, not knowing what to buy, not caring.

I recall that dead feeling. That heavy load of shame on my shoulders all the time. The desperate need for help but not knowing how to fix things. Those were times with specific plans and an almost guaranteed ticket to the psych ward. That's something I can't have, that chance to be away and try to just focus on me. I have to work and will work and I will pretend that I love it. Then I will come home and continue to find ways to punish myself because I cannot snap out of this depression.

I hope things are much better in your world.