second-rate heart

Every Tuesday and every Saturday, I am lost in depression.

Is it that these days are bad for some intrinsic reason in my lifestyle right now, or have I noticed a pattern and then convinced myself it would happen? Is it self-fulfilling?

This past Saturday was the first one since my loss that I have not felt it. I got out of bed and didn't immediately want to lie down on the floor underneath the couch. I could get out of bed. I could get something done. I went out of the house and went on a walk without feeling like the weight of the earth was crushing me.

I suppose that experience made me think that I would no longer have to waste my Tuesdays and Saturdays convincing myself that living is a better idea than dying.

In case it's not obvious from my talking so far, today is a relapse.

I have not written about these days much over the years, because for me this feeling is beyond words. Not only can I not bring myself to get out of bed, much less write about it, it's emotionally numbing in a completely overwhelming way. When I can't feel anything, how can I describe what I feel?

But depression a sick heart. It's my heart feeling physically like it's dying of a wasting disease, with a painful sour taste. It's my heart pumping poison through my veins instead of blood because it is unhealthy. I am unhealthy. I feel it in every inch of my body, this sludge being pushed around by a dying organ.

And I am sick of this sludge.

second-rate heart
blog archives	Tuesday, March 13, 2007 Every Tuesday and every Saturday, I am lost in depression. Is it that these days are bad for some intrinsic reason in my lifestyle right now, or have I noticed a pattern and then convinced myself it would happen? Is it self-fulfilling? This past Saturday was the first one since my loss that I have not felt it. I got out of bed and didn't immediately want to lie down on the floor underneath the couch. I could get out of bed. I could get something done. I went out of the house and went on a walk without feeling like the weight of the earth was crushing me. I suppose that experience made me think that I would no longer have to waste my Tuesdays and Saturdays convincing myself that living is a better idea than dying. In case it's not obvious from my talking so far, today is a relapse. I have not written about these days much over the years, because for me this feeling is beyond words. Not only can I not bring myself to get out of bed, much less write about it, it's emotionally numbing in a completely overwhelming way. When I can't feel anything, how can I describe what I feel? But depression a sick heart. It's my heart feeling physically like it's dying of a wasting disease, with a painful sour taste. It's my heart pumping poison through my veins instead of blood because it is unhealthy. I am unhealthy. I feel it in every inch of my body, this sludge being pushed around by a dying organ. And I am sick of this sludge. Labels: me-gazing posted by m 0 comments 11:27	i am the ghost of who i used to be. contact me: leave a comment. i apologize but want to remain anonymous and posting my email address here would make me unduly anxious about my privacy.