I don’t want to do anything, I tell myself and anyone who asks. I want to go to bed, I tell myself and anyone who asks. But I’m not so sure any more that it’s true. I’m worried that my truth is a lie, that I’ve been lying to myself each and every day. I think I do want to do something, I know I do – I want to do lots of things. I want to do things so badly it hurts.
It is rarely Big Dreams that I allow myself to have -but the dreams of the every day and often, the mundane. I want to meet with a friend and laugh – god I want so badly to laugh. I want to go to the shop and buy paint , and then I’d use that paint to decorate the hall, and the steps and the front door. I want to get my hair cut, and buy shoes for the winter. I want to make my sons’ beds and tidy their room. I want to pick up the phone and chat freely and energetically to my sisters and my Mum. I want to go to the corner shop and buy broccoli to go with dinner I’ll have to cook.
I won’t though, I won’t do any of those things. I can’t focus my thoughts or take control of my limbs. I’m rigid in my fear, foggy in my low mood and I’m compelled to stay still. When all actions and interactions cause pain, I am compelled to avoid them. Tricky, as it is, to do anything with lead weights deposited in my head. Sleep becomes the only appealing option left. But then there is the depression of sleeping my life away…
It’s too much , IT’S JUST TOO MUCH – I want to shout, no, scream those words out loud. I’m trying to stay composed but I don’t want to. Fuck composed ( I don’t swear lightly ).
Who’s going to show me where they’ve hidden the spade to dig myself out? Who’s going to bring me out into the daylight that I’m aware still exists? Perhaps armed with a spade right now I would dig only deeper, accepting my prison and making it a burrow. For home is safe – it is dull and boring and lonely and painful, but it is safe.
So what to do? Do I take the pills – will they affect my brain chemistry to the point of re-invigorating the lost motivation and shedding the pounds of the bleakness? Do I talk/exercise/eat my way out of it? A combination of all those things perhaps?
I want answers , I want action. I want it to be different, I want to be different. I want it all to be so different.